SALLE NUMERO TROIS---courtroom number three---broke into a collective hiss as the actresses entered the courtroom from the side door.338Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4Nk25FyhQJ
"Meurtrieres!" someone shouted.
"Assassins!"
"Monstres!"
Mischa kept her chin up, trying to maintain a sense of dignity, taking her seat in the cage of bulletproof glass and staring forward as though nothing were happening around her. The sky-blue shirts of the gendarmes were everywhere, and they had apparently decided to let the spectators get a little venom out of their systems before enforcing the rule of silence in the courtroom.
Try as she might to remain resolute, it was impossible to ignore the spectacle; it was like trying to meditate in the midst of a tornado. One man got to his feet and charged toward them, not getting very far before being subdued by the gendarmerie. An object---a shoe---slammed against the glass case only a few feet from where Mischa was sitting, having been thrown from the balcony.
Mischa was seated at the end of the cage farthest from the spectators, and from this vantage point she could see the expressions of each of her friends. Lindsay shrunk back, looking absolutely terrified. Nicole Richie watched with horror, tears falling down her cheeks. Rihanna kept her head down and her eyes squeezed shut.
She bit her lip, remembering the stern warnings of her lawyer: don't show emotion. Don't get mad. Don't cry. French judges don't like outbursts from the defendants. It took all her will not to react as she watched the crowd rise up against them.
I'm innocent! she wanted to scream. How dare you people think we could do such a horrible thing!
Surely something would happen, she told herself throughout the investigation. Surely some piece of evidence would appear, some lead would crystallize---surely they'd realize they've got the wrong people!
More gendarmes entered the courtroom. Several surrounded their glass cage and soon there was at least one gendarme standing at each row of spectators. Their nightsticks were drawn but their firearms remained in their holsters.
It became a mob mentality, a feeding frenzy, all decorum thrown out as the gendarmes called out for silence and people shouted their opinions and gestured in their direction. Some were supportive, including a couple who looked like American students, shouting something about saving France's ass during World War II. People were yelling at us and at each other, the small minority who supported their cause trying to shout over the majority without success. The reporters filling most of the front two rows and seated in the folding chairs in the rear were trying to take this all in and jotted down some notes.338Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ608vDFwFHg
Their boyfriends, all four of them----Sebastian, Egor, Blake, and Joel----turned from their perch in the front room and watched the brewing rugby scrum. After a time Egor got into the fray, not moving from his seat but yelling back at the protesters. he was hardly a threatening presence, but he was pointing his finger menacingly and working himself up in his frustration and concern.
Then the wheels came off: from one of the middle rows, a guy in a leather jacket and spiky hair, whom Mischa assumed to be a fellow Briton, pushed someone, knocking him into a gendarme. A number of gendarmes rushed to separate and restrain the two people, and at some point, not surprisingly, someone overacted to someone else's overreaction and before long the scuffle involved a number of spectators and police.
"Allons, allons!" The gendarmes inside their cage lifted them to their feet and hurried them out of the courtroom. The door closed behind them. They were ushered into the holding area and placed in handcuffs again.
Each of Mischa's friends looked shellshocked. They were used to being the subject of strong opinions. They'd all read the various accounts of their case in the international media, stories from every continent, the most ridiculous rumors and speculation, even Facebook and Internet sites devoted to them. But this was different. This was their first encounter, up close and personal, with the reaction of ordinary French citizens.
Even though they'd read the papers and heard the stories----the overwhelming consensus of the French people was that they were guilty, guilty, guilty----it was still shocking to see it firsthand. They wanted their blood!338Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC0G7sJXv5o
"We're fucked," said Nicole Richie. "We are so fucked!"338Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkFaWDjppC0
