The Trial

Would you believe that an old trunk found in an attic could change a person's life forever?

My name is Karen Davis. I'm the daughter of Raymond Davis and Donna Champion Davis. My grandparents on my mother's side were Victor and Ellen Champion. My mother always told me that my grandma passed away before I was born and my grandpa went off the rails after her death. So much so that he didn't associate with anyone in the family anymore. Being a kid, I never questioned what she told me. I just accepted that I had only one set of grandparents; grandma and grandpa Davis.

My father died in an industrial accident a year ago. Mom had been suffering from early-onset-frontotemporal dementia for several years. Her condition went down-hill fast after his death. We put her in a nursing home a few months ago. She is nearing the end now and is under hospice care. Lately, she has started saying "Daddy" over and over, day and night. Her brother, my Uncle David, heard her one day and tears ran down his cheeks. I wondered what that was all about. My Grandpa has always been a forbidden subject in our household, and now she seems to be calling out to him every hour of every day!

We are in the process of getting her house ready to sell since there's no chance she will be returning home. It fell to me to clean out her attic. It was there that I discovered a dusty box containing a treasure- trove of information about my mom's parents.

First, I found the box in the most hidden and unreachable location in the attic. It was labeled "Daddy." Not "Victor Champion," not "Father," not even "Dad;" but "Daddy." It contained six books written by Victor Champion, my grandpa. All of them were written about casino gambling. All but one of them were instruction books. The outlier was a novel. It featured fictional characters that were involved in gambling back when the mob ran Las Vegas. It was an interesting book full of information about that era. All of the books were well written. I looked them up on the internet and found out that they had all been best-sellers back in the day. My grandpa was, at the very least, semi-famous! As interesting as that information was, I found much more!

Let me begin by saying that I had never questioned the full-ride scholarships that both my cousin Bruce and I had received from the KU alumni association. Since both my mom and her brother, my Uncle David, had attended KU and were members of the alumni association, both Bruce and I bought the story that our parents used their influence to obtain those scholarships for us. Wrong!

There was a binder in the box that detailed how Grandpa Champion had paid for the scholarships and arranged for them to be granted to us if and when we attended KU. Now it made a lot of sense why my mom and Uncle David had been so insistent that Bruce and I signed up to attend KU.

Then, there were the new cars that both of us received upon our graduation. Once again, we thought we were indebted to our parents for those cars. Wrong again! Grandpa had footed the bill for both vehicles with the stipulation that we would get them if and when we graduated from KU.

Then, most importantly, there was a document that mentioned a trust fund to be split between each of Victor's grandchildren if they fulfilled a stipulation that he had mandated.

Next, I read a document that referenced Grandpa's Will. Both my mom and Uncle David were listed as being present at the reading of the Will. Much of the Will was dedicated to explaining why neither Mom nor Uncle David would get a penny from their dad. I read the words but I didn't understand the "what's" or "why's."

I did, however, understand the part specifying that each grandchild (which turned out to be just me and my cousin, Bruce) would get an equal share of the trust, if and only if, they met the specified requirement. Grandpa stated that he never wanted to see or talk to his children again since they had abandoned and vilified his wife, their mother. Having said that, he had no such feelings toward any grandchildren that he might be blessed with in the future. What he didn't explain was the requirement that had to be met by those grandchildren.

I was aghast at the amount of money that was involved. The Will was read nine years ago. The value of the trust at that time, in round figures, was ten million dollars! Grandpa was super-rich! Bruce and I were going to inherit his money if we fulfilled the specified requirement. How could we do that if we didn't know what we were supposed to do? We should know within a year!

The biggest question in my mind was why my mom and Uncle David kept all of this from Bruce and me? What was the secret? Why would Grandpa put a secret stipulation on our inheritance?

I was torn between calling Bruce and inviting him over to see what I had discovered, or continuing to look at the rest of the papers in the box. I decided to continue emptying the box. Maybe something remaining in there would solve the riddle and let me give Bruce more answers than questions.

The next folder was labeled, "Transcription of Court Proceedings." Upon reading those papers, I understood much of the mystery that had always surrounded my grandpa. For one thing, I found out why both my mom and my uncle were estranged from their father and why I'd never met my grandad. The transcript was informative but also sad and perplexing. I had tears in my eyes as I read it and I cried openly when I finished reading it. Yes, I read the official court transcript, but I couldn't believe what I'd read. Surely this was just one of Grandpa's fiction books. No, it wasn't. It was exactly what had happened, and it was awful.

Why didn't I seek more information from my mom about her parents? Now that I know the highlights, or more accurately the lowlights, of their lives; I wonder about so many things.

Now that my mom doesn't even know who I am most of the time, I would like to talk to her about the trial and especially about her devastating testimony. Timing is everything, and it's too late now.

The first pages of the transcript were dedicated to explaining the agreement between the prosecution and the defense that allowed a single jury to try the cases against the two brothers that were being accused. All of the charges stemmed from one incident and the testimony for each case would be inherently related. I won't bother you with all of that except to say that the jury would be deciding three separate-but-interconnected charges, as you will see.

I have extracted the testimony of the major players from the court papers and presented it without all of the procedural stuff. I've arranged them in an order that makes sense out of everything. I've presented it more like a story than a legal proceeding. I've left out all of the objections by attorneys, instructions to the jury, remarks by the judge, and other forms of legalese. None of that is important to the story.

I intend to give a copy of this story to every family member that has any interest in what happened back then. I also intend to give it to my own children when they are old enough to handle it. Right now, my kids like to hear stories from my old, handed-down books. Those books always end with, "and they lived happily ever after." This story is not like that.

Without further ado, here is the extracted testimony of Victor Champion, my grandpa, at the trial.

TESTIMONY OF

VICTOR CHAMPION:

It all started when I was driving my car on the interstate and received a phone call. I answered it using the vehicle's Bluetooth. It was from our new neighbor, Mrs. Worthington. She's an elderly lady, but she's sharper than a tack. One of the first things she did was join the neighborhood watch program! Her house is straight across from ours on the cul-de-sac. She has an excellent view of our front porch from her front window. Anyway, she was calling to tell me that she had just watched a couple of "young thugs" breaking into our house. She said they fumbled a few minutes at the door. They appeared to be picking the lock. They got in and she didn't hear our alarm go off. That puzzled me. I knew the alarm system was on this morning.

She had already called 911, but she considered it her duty to let me know too. She got my number from my business card. Both Ellen and I had given her a card the day we took her some freshly baked cookies to welcome her to the neighborhood.

I thanked her for calling and told her that I would be there in a couple of minutes. It so happened that I was speeding down the interstate and was just two exits away from the road to our house.

It took me a few minutes, but I got there before the police. I ran to the door and found it unlocked. I ran from room-to-room downstairs and found nobody. I raced up the stairs. As I passed the guest bedroom, I heard voices. I tried to peek in the door. It was locked. Without even thinking, I stepped back and gave it a hard kick. It flew open. Then I got the surprise of my life.

My wife was on the bed with two young guys. All three were naked. The thought running through my head was that one of them was raping her while the other one restrained her by holding a handful of her hair. In his other hand, he held a gun. It was obvious that he was holding her at gunpoint.

I instinctively knew that I had to de-escalate the situation. I raised my hands as if surrendering. I attempted to convey a calming message using a non-threatening demeanor. I urged him to lower the gun. I begged him not to do anything to make things worse than they already were. I assured him that I meant no harm to anyone. I told him that, at this point, it was fixable. He just sneered at me. Then he yelled, "Fuck you, wimp." The next thing I saw was a bright flash. I don't remember hearing a bang or feeling the bullets hit me.

I do remember that somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered why my wife was at home. She should have been at work. She always packed a lunch and ate at her desk. I speculated that she must have left something at home that she needed at work. Perhaps her phone or some papers. She must have come home to get whatever it was and surprised the intruders. Seeing her, their priority switched from robbery to assault. After all, she's a beautiful woman. I don't remember anything else. I don't remember the police coming or the ambulance ride. It's all a blur until I woke up in the hospital.

When the nurse told me that I'd been in a coma for six days, I was overwhelmed. It had been six days? Six days of my life were completely missing!

I remember asking her if my wife was alright. She said she didn't know since she didn't normally work in that area. She would ask the regular floor nurse. There were flowers on the windowsill and cards on the table. There were even some balloons floating at the foot of the bed.

I noticed two more nurses and a doctor talking to someone near the door. The doctor came closer and told me not to try talking until they removed the tube from my throat. There were all kinds of tubes hooked up to me and I was surrounded by medical apparatus. He explained that I had restraints on my arms and legs to keep me from accidentally hurting myself. He assured me that everything would be removed soon.

I could feel something on my face. It felt like it was wrapped up somehow. My face was hurting. It was hurting a lot!

I think they kept me somewhat sedated until they came in and removed the tube from my throat. At the same time, they removed a catheter, an IV, and a tube that entered my stomach. Finally, they removed my restraints.

My throat was so dry that I couldn't speak. They gave me small sips of water that I swallowed with difficulty. After that, they gave me some ice chips. Next came some juice and a nondescript warm liquid. It was a long, slow slog to solid food. My throat continued to hurt, but it improved with each passing day. I haltingly returned to something resembling normal.

Then came the day when I finally got to see my face. A doctor came in and removed the gauze, or whatever that stuff was, from my face. He explained that one bullet had struck my lower-left jaw, traveled up the side of my face, and exited above and behind my left ear. I had lost a lot of blood. There had been numerous transfusions. Multiple units of blood had been donated at the blood bank in my name. Unfortunately, a second bullet had grazed my brain and caused several bone fragments to become embedded in a dangerous area.

While I was still in a coma, they performed surgery to remove as many fragments as possible in an attempt to alleviate the swelling. They also performed some preliminary reconstructive procedures, thus beginning the repair of my jaw and face. The rough work was over. Next would come plastic surgery and the beginning of some much more precise restoration. Many more surgeries would be required. With each surgery, I would take another step towards normalcy.

I will never forget when the doctor handed me a mirror. It revealed a freak looking back at me. It turned my stomach. I wanted to vomit. I nearly fainted. It was much worse than I could have imagined. I knew right then that I would never be the same. After several doctors observed my face, a nurse re-wrapped it. I was glad that she did.

I faintly remember friends coming in, amid police officers and others that I didn't know. Even now, it's very foggy.

The first visitor that I remember with any clarity was Mrs. Strong. She introduced herself and told me that she was the prosecutor assigned to my case.

I remember asking her if they caught the guys that had attacked my wife. She responded that they were currently in custody. I asked her how much time they would get for raping Ellen. She surprised me by stating that the young men were not being charged with rape. Seeing my bewilderment, she told me that the older one was being charged with Ellen's murder. He would be cited with murder in the second-degree. Both young men would be charged with my attempted murder.

I remember yelling, "That's bullshit! They were raping her!" It took a minute for the magnitude of what she had said to register in my still-foggy brain. She had used the word, "murder!" It hit me like a ton of bricks. "My God, you're saying that my wife is dead?" I screamed.

She looked shocked as she responded, "Oh, crap! You didn't know? No one told you?"

I replied, "If they did, it didn't register in my foggy brain."

She grabbed my hand saying, "I'm so sorry, Victor. I had no idea!" She immediately shifted gears and made a major effort to console me.

After I calmed down, she explained some things about the upcoming trial. She said that an agreement was made to try the two defendants together since all of the charges emerged from one incident. There would be three separate verdicts, one for each charge.

After Mrs. Strong left, the nurses were pointing out all of the flowers in my room and telling me who sent them. I read all of the cards. They were from colleagues, neighbors, friends, and family. There was nothing from my kids. Nothing from David or Donna. I assumed they had probably visited when I was in a coma. Maybe they didn't get the word that I was awake.

I asked a nurse about my kids. She dodged the question saying that no one kept a log of visitors, so she didn't know anything about their visits. All I knew was that they hadn't been to see me since I'd been awake. That seemed strange.

While I was contemplating trying to contact my kids, Mrs. Strong came back to tell me that she had just received the scheduling information for the trial. The initial court proceedings would begin in two months. She said that I would be released to a rehab facility before the trial started. She wanted me to remain in the rebab facility throughout the trial. After that, I could probably go home with visiting nurse care.

I responded by telling her that I was beginning to believe that my kids hadn't visited me when I was in a coma. I knew they hadn't been to see me since I woke up. I needed to know what was going on.

She informed me that Donna and David were being called to testify for the defense. She stated that the defense attorneys had advised my children not to visit me. I couldn't believe my ears. I asked why the defense would call my children since neither of them had witnessed the incident. They were both away at college. She replied that it was because my children knew the two young men involved. They had been classmates and were good friends.

I wondered aloud how that should preclude them from visiting me. I was flabbergasted that they would comply with such bullshit advice. I mentioned that my children had lost their mother due to the murderous actions of those 'friends.' I screamed, "They might have been classmates, but surely they aren't friends anymore. Does the defense expect my kids to side with those 'friends' that killed their mom? Give me a break."

Well, here we are and the dreaded day has finally arrived. Today, for the first time since the incident, I'm looking at my kids. Sure enough, they are sitting over there on the defense side of the aisle. They won't make eye contact with me. It breaks my heart.

Is this the way the justice system works? Since the defense chooses to call my kids as character witnesses, or whatever, they can't have any contact with me, their father? My God! How messed up is that?

I guess that about does it. I still can't wrap my mind around what happened. It still seems like a nightmare to me. I keep hoping to wake up. I haven't just lost my wife of nearly thirty years; I have also, for all intents and purposes, lost my son and daughter too. I just can't comprehend everything, or should I say anything, that happened on that awful day or since. That's about all that I remember.

END OF TESTIMONY

I had been told only that my grandma had passed away before I was born. No one mentioned her being attacked by two intruders! No one mentioned that she had been murdered! No one told me that my grandpa had been called to the scene and was wounded. No one mentioned that he had survived an attempted murder. No one told me how badly he had been injured. Talk about being kept in the dark!

Next came the testimony from Donna Champion, my mom. Her testimony blew me away! My head and my world were spinning out of control! Here's what she said:

TESTIMONY OF

DONNA CHAMPION:

My name is Donna Champion. I'm Victor Champion's daughter. I know both of the boys on trial here today. Cecil is a year older than me and Ronald is my age. I have dated both boys and count them among my friends.

Something happened when I was dating Cecil that I think is important. At the time he was starting his first year of college and I was starting my last year of high school. He brought me home from a date and I introduced him to my mom. After he left, Mom remarked about how handsome he was. She asked me if I'd had sex with him. I was astounded. I said, "Mom, where did that come from? We've fooled around a little, but that's all. Not that it's any of your business."

Mom said, "Too bad. I'd do that hunk anywhere, anytime."

I expressed my astonishment at her saying something like that. I said, "Better not let Dad hear you talking like that!" She just smiled.

Later, I told Cecil what Mom had said. He grinned as he said, "Your Mom is super-hot. Tell her that I'm available any time she needs me." I snickered at that. Then I reached into my backpack and got one of Mom's cards. I handed it to him saying, "Tell her yourself, Romeo."

Before I press on, I want to say some things about my dad's career. He took data processing and computer programming in college. He had always loved to play poker and when the Texas Hold'em craze came around, he played even more. Wanting to learn to play better, he developed some computer routines to delve into the odds and determine whether to bet, call, or fold a given hand. Along with that, he developed strategies for identifying "tells" being displayed by the other players: things they do when they have a good hand that they don't do when their hand is mediocre. Using the data that he accumulated, he was able to identify some general principles and techniques for winning consistently. He was making lots of money in various poker rooms, but he had a dream about making way more bucks by selling his ideas to other players. He teamed up with a publisher in Las Vegas and they began to produce lots of merchandise. There were books, pamphlets, flash-cards, and even a computer program. Soon, those products could be seen in nearly every casino gift shop in the country. They were also available in many bookstores and gaming stores.