Chapter 62: The Twenty Shot Case: Preliminary Hearing [1]

The courtroom on the twelfth floor of the George N. Leighton Criminal Courthouse carried the quiet gravity reserved for cases where someone’s life had ended and another’s freedom hung in the balance.

Twenty Shots sat at the defense table beside Damian. He looked calm, almost leisurely, as if the proceeding unfolding around him were merely a joke rather than a matter of life and death. It was the kind of composure that made people wonder where such confidence could possibly come from.

Across the aisle stood Assistant State’s Attorney Daniel Ruiz. He shot a cold look toward Damian’s table, but neither Damian nor Twenty bothered returning his glance. They treated him like air and continued whispering among themselves, almost looking amused.

“We will see who is smiling after today!” he snarled under his breath.

At precisely nine o’clock, the courtroom doors opened behind the bench.

“All rise.”

Everyone stood as Judge Helena Vance entered and took her seat. Her gaze moved immediately to the defense table, and for a fraction of a second her professional composure softened.

Damian looked up at that exact moment, and their eyes met.

The exchange was brief, subtle enough that no one unfamiliar with them would have noticed. Yet Judge Vance allowed herself the smallest pause before lowering her eyes to the case file.

Though she remained composed outwardly, her mind was far less orderly. Damian had been stunning the last time she saw him. He did not look very different now, yet something about him seemed sharpened, refined, a thousand times more striking in ways she could not quite explain.

Not daring to let those thoughts linger, Judge Vance spoke in a voice that carried authority.

“Be seated.”

The room complied instantly.

With a nod, Judge Vance adjusted the papers before her and began.

“This court is now hearing the preliminary matter in the case of the People of the State of Illinois versus Declan Dwayne, also known as Twenty Shots. The defendant stands accused under 720 ILCS 5/9-1(a)(1), first degree murder, in the death of Marcus Vale.”

Her eyes briefly lifted again, meeting Twenty’s before shifting to Damian, whose gaze remained fixed on her. He offered a faint, polite smile, which she forced herself to ignore as she continued.

She cleared her throat almost imperceptibly.

“Counsel, you may proceed.”

Daniel Ruiz rose first.

“Thank you, Your Honor.”

He stepped forward with the deliberate confidence of a man who had prosecuted dozens of homicide cases.

“The State will show probable cause that the defendant, Declan Dwayne, intentionally shot and killed Marcus Vale on the evening of June 14th outside a South Side nightclub.”

Ruiz paced slowly before the empty jury box.

“This was not an accident. This was not self defense. This was an execution carried out in broad daylight.”

He gestured toward the defendant.

“Witnesses place the defendant at the scene. Ballistics evidence connects weapons recovered from his associates to the shooting. And today the State will present testimony from an individual who was present during the murder.”

Damian leaned back in his chair as his fingers lightly tapped his pen against the legal pad. This was the moment they had been waiting for.

“The People call Thomas Caldwell.”

A side door opened, and a thin young man with nervous eyes stepped into the courtroom under the escort of a deputy. Thomas Caldwell was known on the streets as Breezy 180, and he understood very well what appearing on that stand could do to his name in the neighborhood.

He glanced around the courtroom, carefully avoiding Twenty’s cold gaze before settling into the witness chair. After he was sworn in, Ruiz approached.

“State your name for the record.”

“Thomas Caldwell.”

“Mr. Caldwell, were you arrested on July 3rd in connection with illegal firearm possession?”

“Yeah.”

Ruiz nodded.

“And when you were arrested, officers recovered a handgun from your vehicle. Correct?”

“Yeah.”

Ruiz turned toward the judge.

“Your Honor, ballistics testing determined that this weapon was manufactured in the same production batch as shell casings recovered at the scene of Marcus Vale’s murder.”

Twenty remained stone cold silent, staring at the man he once called brat ratting him out on the stand. He had known this moment would come, yet experiencing it in person carried a weight entirely different from anticipation.

“Mr. Caldwell, were you present when Marcus Vale was shot?”

The young man swallowed.

“Yeah… I was there.”

“Tell the court what you saw.”

Breezy shifted uneasily in his seat.

“I had stepped out of the club to take a call. Then I saw Lil Vex arguing with someone. Then Twenty… I mean Declan… he pulled a gun and started firing.”

Murmurs spread through the courtroom, though Ruiz spoke over them without losing the rhythm of his questioning.

“You are identifying the defendant in this courtroom as the man who fired those shots?”

Breezy pointed toward Twenty.

“Yeah. That’s him.”

Another murmur rippled through the gallery, but Ruiz continued without pause.

“How many shots did he fire?”

“Like… a lot. Maybe seven or something.”

Ruiz nodded solemnly.

“And Marcus Vale died from those gunshot wounds?”

“Yeah.”

Ruiz turned toward the bench with a proud smile.

“No further questions at this time.”

As he spoke, he cast a smug look toward Damian, only to see him yawning with a bored expression. Ruiz felt as though he might spit blood from sheer anger, though he forced himself to remain composed.

“I would like to see if you can keep up this behavior after you lose this case.”

Judge Vance looked toward the defense table and spoke in a neutral voice.

“Mr. Hill, your witness.”

Damian rose slowly and walked toward the witness stand. When he spoke, his voice carried a calm, almost conversational tone.

“Good morning, Mr. Caldwell.”

“Morning.”

“You said you were present during the shooting.”

“Yeah.”

Damian nodded thoughtfully.

“And you were arrested two weeks later with a handgun.”

“Yeah.”

Damian tilted his head slightly.

“Not the murder weapon, though.”

“No.”

“But one from the same manufacturing batch.”

Breezy paused, his eyes narrowing as his thoughts raced. He could not tell where this white boy lawyer was leading him, yet instinct warned him that he was drifting into dangerous water.

“That’s what they said.” His voice no longer carried the confidence it had before.

Damian nodded and leaned lightly against the podium.

“So let me understand this clearly.”

He flipped through his notes.

“You were present at a murder.”

“Yes.”

“You were later found in possession of a firearm connected through manufacturing to the crime scene.”

“Yes.”

“And yet… you were not charged with murder?”

Buzz.

Breezy froze, his eyes widening as realization finally struck him. His hesitation hung in the air long enough that Damian’s patience began to thin.

“Instead, you agreed to testify against my client. Isn’t that convenient.”

Ruiz rose to his feet.

“Objection. Counsel is implying a cooperation agreement that has not been established.”

Judge Vance considered the objection. Her gaze shifted briefly toward Damian before she spoke.

“Overruled. The witness may answer.”

Ruiz frowned but said nothing. He shot Breezy a sharp look that clearly meant do not mess this up. Breezy cleared his throat nervously. He had expected to come here, testify, walk out free, and disappear from the neighborhood with his mother before anyone could retaliate for his snitching.

How had he suddenly become the one suspected of murder?

“They said if I told the truth it would help me.”

His voice carried none of its earlier confidence.

Damian smiled faintly.

“I’m sure they did.”

He stepped back and said, “Your Honor, the defense calls Angela Caldwell.”

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