TRAPPED
*~*~Part Three~*~*
*~*~*~*~*
Kevin stared as Brian sat in the chair, tears streaming down his face.
“Brian, I’m sure Nick didn’t mean to do it,” Kevin started out. This caused Brian to turn
his head quickly in Kevin’s direction.
“NO.” Brian tried desperately to make Kevin understand that he couldn’t possibly blame
Nick, he blamed the doctor, this had been going on well before he left the hospital.
“Yes, Brian, he didn’t mean to do it.” Kevin patted Brian on the shoulder, talking to him
as if he were a three year old in need of praise and approval.
Dammit, how can I get Kevin to understand?
Brian shook his head no vigorously. “NO. NO. NO.”
“Calm down Brian, I have to call Nick’s dad.”
Kevin picked the phone up off the table and walked into the house leaving Brian alone on
the balcony, dealing with thoughts, living in a private hell.
Brian heard the phone ringing and Kevin answering it. Straining to hear Kevin’s end of the
conversation, Brian struck out. Kevin appeared in the doorway with his arms folded
across his chest.
“That was your Dr. Johnson. She said it was imperative that you get your medications
started up immediately,” Kevin was sizing Brian up while he spoke. “Problem is, how am I
gonna go to the pharmacy to get your meds and bring you along with me? How did Nick
do this?” Kevin wondered aloud.
Brian immediately started shaking his head no again. There was no possible way to
communicate his needs with Kevin. God, I don’t need those drugs, they are what is
doing this to me! Can’t anyone see this?
Kevin rustled Brian’s hair up before he sat down in the chair. He quickly snapped his
fingers as an idea entered his mind.
“I can get AJ to get the medicine! Brilliant idea if I say so myself,” Kevin smiled as he got
out of the chair and walked into the house to retrieve the cordless phone.
Brian's thoughts raced. He was trying to figure a way out to let his cousin know that he didn't need the drugs, that they were hurting him, not helping him!
"AJ said it won't be a problem, he will be over here in a few hours with the medication. Now, Brian, how about some dinner? I thought I saw some of your protein drinks in the fridge, be right back," Kevin turned and walked into the house.
God, not those drinks! I need Nick, Brian thought to himself, slowly feeling the despair of the situation creep up on him.
*~*~*~*~*
Nick looked up at the door when he heard a scraping noise. A styrofoam plate sat on the ledge. Nick stared at the door for a few moments before deciding to get up and see what it was.
Looking at the plate, he saw a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a small handful of potato chips and an apple. A paper cup held white milk.
Nick turned away from the door and sat back down on the bed, putting his head in his hands. He wasn't hungry. He kept worrying about Brian. Kevin had absolutely no idea of how to care for him.
He realized that if he was getting served a meal that would mean that Brian would or should be getting his dinner. Nick worried that Kevin wouldn't know that Brian was able to chew, but only soft foods, he wasn't ready for things like burgers and fries.
Nick tried to shut the thoughts out. There wasn't anything he could do for Brian, not here, not now. He laid down, trying to find solace in sleep.
He woke up when he heard the door creak open. A guard stepped inside. "Come with me."
Nick obeyed and followed the guard. He pointed for him to walk in front of him. Nick had no idea where he was to be going.
"The outside of the white line, boy," the guard barked at Nick.
Nick jumped to the outer side of the line, away from the walls and the doors. He was literally walking down the middle of the hall.
They stopped at the end of the hall where heavy metal bars separated them from entering the next set of halls. The guard at the doors opened the set with a buzzer. It made a loud noise like a stereo speaker shorting out. The guard pushed Nick in the back to go through the doors.
Standing there waiting for the doors to close behind them, Nick realized that he no longer had control over anything he wanted to say or do.
"Hold your hands out, palms up," the guard barked out.
Startled, Nick did as he was requested. The short, muscular black man slapped handcuffs on Nick's wrists. He then bent down and slapped metal cuffs on his ankles. Then he placed a chain around Nick's waist and attached the chain to the handcuffs.
The other door buzzed open and Nick was nudged out. It was ackward trying to walk with the shackles on his legs, the chains making a clanging noise with each step he took.
Walking down the long hallway seemed to take forever to Nick until they came to another barred door. This time there was a guard with a clipboard. Another guard was standing there, evidentally waiting for Nick and the guard.
"Carter, 29578635," the guard crisply stated.
The guard holding the clipboard scribbled something down on the paper. He handed the
clipboard to the man accompanying Nick.
After the clipboard was handed back, the guard standing next to the door ordered Nick
through it. Nick realized that they had just transferred responsiblity of him from one guard
to another.
Transferred responsibility.
The bright Florida sunshine hit Nick's eyes, momentairly blinding him. After a couple of
steps, he saw a white panel van with windows all around it. It had big blue letters on the
side. It said, FLORIDA STATE DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS. The windows had
wires running through it, there were bars separating the driver from the back of the van.
The guard dragged the side door open.
"In here."
Ackwardly, Nick tried to get his foot up to step into the van. There were two rows of
small, black vinyl seats, hooks on the floor and in the middle of the seats.
Nick took the first seat and sat down. The guard unhooked the chain that connected
Nick's handcuffs to his waist. With a quick motion, he took that chain and paddlelocked it
to the hook in the seat. He took another strap and laced it around Nick's ankles and
secured it with a paddle lock to the hook on the floor.
The guard exited the van, slamming the side door closed.
The van was hot, and Nick could smell the foul smells making him start to gag. Urine,
vomit and body odor permeated the air.
With a jerk, the van whipped out of the driveway heading down the highway. Nick
decided to be bold.
"Where are we going?" Nick could see the driver's face in the rearview mirror that hung
on the visor.
The driver didn't look up.
Thinking that the man didn't hear him the first time, Nick asked a second time. "Where are
we going?"
Again, no answer, the driver didn't look up. Nick knew the man heard him, he just refuse
to acknowledge him.
Nick looked out the window of the van, watching the Florida landscape slip past him.
People in their cars buzzing past them, everyone lost in their everyday world. Nick once
again wondered how Brian was.
*~*~*~*~*
"Well good morning buddy, how are you doing this morning?" Kevin asked as he entered
the bedroom.
Brian gave his cousin a lopsided grin.
"Okay, I take that as a yes?" Kevin smiled as he drew the drapes back.
Brian watched Kevin walk and get the wheel chair stituated. "Did you want breakfast
before you get cleaned up for the day?"
Brian nodded "yes."
"Okay, good. How about watching the Today program while I grab your drink," Kevin
commented as he pulled the blankets off of Brian's body.
"No."
"No Today show?" Kevin asked, pausing before he hoisted Brian out of bed and placed
him in the wheel chair.
How can I get through to him I want scrambled eggs?I'm just going to try and say
it, Brian thought. "Ay-ga."
Okay, that no way near sounded like eggs. I wish this stuff would wear out of my
system so I can move my tongue the right way.
Kevin's eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what Brian said. He was trying at first to
think of a television show that would sound like that. Then it struck him.
"Eggs?"
Brian wanted to cry. "Yes!" He nodded his head furiously up and down.
"Eggs? Toast and coffee too?" Kevin was half joking. To his suprise, Brian got all
emotional and was shaking his head yes like his life depended on it.
Kevin pushed Brian out into the living room in front of the television. He clapped his
hands together, "Alrighty Brian, eggs, toast and black coffee. I'll be back in a few."
Brian rested, knowing that his needs would be met for at least part of the morning. He was
hoping that maybe now Kevin would actually give him food instead of those damned
protein drinks.
As he watched the Today Show a portion of the news segment flashed on the screen that
made his blood run cold. A picture of himself alongside a photograph of the home health
nurse that overdosed on his meds were on the screen.
Then there was a live picture.
"You said scambled, ri---" Kevin stopped short when the image flashed on the television
screen. There was Nick in a bright orange jumpsuit, in shackles and handcuffs being led to
the courthouse. Kevin picked up the remote control and turned the volume up.
"Nick Carter of the boyband singing group, The Backstreet Boys is being brought into
the Federal Courthouse for arraignment on murder and attempted murder charges."
"Carter was arrested Monday afternoon by Florida State Police on a warrant for the death of health care worker Mark Livingston of Venice, Florida and for attemted murder of Brian Littrell of Orlando, Florida."
"Carter and Littrell were band members of the group, The Backstreet Boys. Littrell had been injured early last month in a car accident which left him permanently brain injured and paralyzed."
"Shit," Kevin said outloud. Both men were thinking it. Watching Nick on the television in an orange jumpsuit with the words PRISONER in bold black letters across his back.
Brian stared at the tv screen, numb.
"It will be okay, Brian, Nicky will be fine, he's got a good attorney," Kevin said as he knelt next to Brian.
Brian sadly shook his head "NO." He knew Nick was in a world of trouble and this doctor was going to do everything in her power to make sure the charges stuck.
*~*~*~*~*
Nick was led into a tiny court room, with wooden benches and paneled walls. A portrait of Bill Clinton was on the wall behind the judge with the United States flag on the right side and the Florida state flag on the left.
A young, black, female clerk was sitting off to one side with a typing type machine. Glancing around the room, Nick felt relieved when he saw the face of his attorney standing over at a table by the judge's bench.
The policeman guided Nick to the table where his attorney was at and pushed him down on his left shoulder to force him to sit.
"State of Florida versus Carter, docket number F-L 00-367592436," the judge rattled off the information based on the paper he held in front of him.
The attorney stood up and nodded at Nick to follow his lead. He leaned over and whispered in his ear to just remain quiet and let him speak for him.
Nick felt his stomach bunch up in knots. This was the worst feeling he had ever had in his life. Performing in front of 30,000 screaming girls was a piece of cake compared to what he was facing at this very moment.
"Mr. Carter, you have been informed of the charges against you?" The judge peered down at Nick over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses.
Nick's attorney spoke up. "Yes, your honor, he has."
"Is there anything you would like to say upon your behalf before I impose bail?"
"Yes, your honor. Nick Carter is a very well known celebrity. Based on his status in the entertaiment field and based on his good clean record, I plead that you take this into consideration and impose the lowest possible bail and to have Mr. Carter released on personal recognisance bond," the attorney spoke in a slow, calculated, precise manner.
"Thank you," the judge replied as he shuffled the papers on his desk. "Due to the severity of the charges against Mr. Carter, I feel it is my obligation to deny bail. The prisioner is to be remanded to jail until his trial is started. Trial date is set for Monday, September 11, 2000."
Nick felt as if a blow to his stomach had been delivered and knocked the air out of him. He stared at the wall, afraid to look at anyone or anything, fearing the tears that were stinging his eyes would spill over.
September 11th was over four months away. He couldn't possibly sit in jail for four months!
Nick was led from the court room to a smaller room off to the side. It was his attorney, a guard and himself in the room. The attorney pulled a pack of cigarettes out.
"Smoke?"
Nick shook his head no. He knew his hands were shaking, he pulled them down onto his lap. The guard immediately yelled for Nick to place his hands back up onto the table.
"Nick, I need you to tell me everything you know about what happened, from the beginning, okay?"
Taking a deep breath, Nick nodded.
*~*~*~*
"Kev? You around?" AJ poked his head into the bedroom where Brian had spent a majority of his time recovering.
Kevin poked his head out of the walk-in closet door. "Yeah, come on in."
AJ was carrying a white pharmacy bag. "I got those meds Brian's doctor ordered, plus something new for him."
Brian's eyes widened when he heard what AJ was describing.
"Got a snag in the situation there though, Nick was the only one that knew how to give these to Brian, unless you want to give it a go," AJ remarked, his low.
"Not me, I hate needles," Kevin replied, walking out with clothes, evidentally for Brian.
Brian was getting a little annoyed at how AJ and Kevin talked about him as if he weren't in the same room. Taking a deep breath in, Brian yelled, "NO!"
AJ whipped around and faced Brian, sitting propped up in the bed. "Whoa, a little attitude in the a.m."
"NO. NO. NO. NO-O-O-O-O-O!" Brian shouted as if his life depended on it.
Kevin frowned at his cousin's instance on something. "No what, Brian?"
Okay, this is where I always mess up, come on, Littrell, you gotta do this and let it be known, Brian coached himself.
He licked his lips, "No........m-medsss."
Oh my god, I did it! I did it! Brian thought, pleased with being able add another word to his vocabulary.
Kevin and AJ stared at Brian.
"No meds? Don't you want to get better, Brian?" Kevin was puzzled at Brian's reaction to medication.
Brian shook his head "yes." "NO MEDS," he shouted.
"Okay, so it's no meds for Brian. I'll put these up ontop of the fridge in case he changes his mind," AJ stated as he turned to leave the room.
As AJ was returning to the bedroom, the doorbell rang.
"I'll get it!" AJ called out.
A man dressed in a dark navy suit and a young woman stood on the porch. The man wasted no time in offering his hand out towards AJ.
"Preston Walker, Mr. Carter's attorney and this is Sara Fox, legal medical advisor."
AJ shook the man's hand and nodded slightly at the woman. "Um, yeah, come in." AJ stood back from the door, allow them to enter the house. "Um, Kevin, need you out here."
Kevin was in the middle of putting a shirt on Brian. "Could you hold on a minute, I'm a little busy here."
"Um, hurry!" AJ was feeling a bit nervous around legal people.
Exasperated, Kevin pulled the shirt over Brian's head quickly and rushed Brian's arms through the sleeves. "I'll be back in a minute, okay?"
Kevin walked out into the living room to find the man and woman standing next to AJ. "Yes?"
"Preston Walker, Mr. Carter's attorney," the man offered his hand to Kevin.
"Oh yeah, you called yesterday, I'm sorry," Kevin remarked as he shook the man's hand.
"Someone want to fill me in on this?" AJ asked, feeling excluded.
"Oh, sorry AJ. These people are going to investigate to get Nick off on the charges," Kevin replied.
"Ok, is Mr. Littrell here?" The attorney asked.
"Yeah, I was just finishing getting him dressed. He's laying in bed, give me a minute and I'll bring him out," Kevin stated, matter-of-factly.
"If he's decent, I would like to do some of the medical assesment with Mr. Littrell laying down, if that's okay?" The young woman asked Kevin.
"Sure, follow me."
Kevin led them into the bedroom where Brian lay. After the formalities were exchanged again, the legal medical accessor went about her chore of listening to Brian's heart, lungs, checking reflexes, feeling his stomach and neck. She took a few vials out of her bag and a syringe and latex gloves.
Brian's eyes widened when he saw the syringe.
"I'm sorry, I'm just going to draw some blood from you. We need to run some toxiology tests on you, to determine where you are and to see if your liver has been damaged from the mercury poisioning." She could tell that Brian was still ill at ease. "Relax, this is to help Nick, not to hurt him."
Those were the only words Brian needed to hear. He would do anything in the world for his friend, anything they asked of him.
"Brian's starting to talk more now too," Kevin remarked to the attorney and the medical accessor.
"Talk, how?" The woman asked, curious.
"AJ brought some medications back from the hospital pharmacy including a new drug that Dr. Johnson wanted Brian started up on and Brian said no meds," Kevin mentioned, innocently.
When he said new drug, both the attorney and the woman looked at each other.
"Do you still have the meds with you?" The woman asked.
"Yeah, I'll go get them," AJ replied.
The woman scribbled down information on a chart.
"Brian, can I ask you yes or no questions?" She looked up, waiting for Brian's response.
Brian slowly said the word, "Yes."
"Here, here's the meds," AJ handed the white paper sack to the woman.
Opening the bag she pulled out one vial of each of the three medications that had been prescribed for Brian. She looked the labels over and handed the bag to the attorney.
"Preston, I think we have a good case going," the woman replied with a slight smile.
*~*~*~*~
At a long table in the jailhouse laundry room, Nick stood folding grey cotton towels. That was his "job" every day, for 5 hours he did nothing but stand in one spot and fold towels that got dumped on the table, hot from the large metal dryers in the room.
Sweat poured off his face and down his back, more than what he ever had performing a two hour show could do. The room was like a hot oven, the temperatures was always above 90 degrees. The worse part of the whole situation was that they were limited to only two showers a week, just two, one on Tuesday and one on Friday.
Nick missed that more than anything, showering before going to sleep. That is if he ever did sleep. He spent most of his night hours writing, drawing, crying anything but sleeping. He sometimes managed to catch an hour or two before the lights came on at 5:30 am and the whole monotonous day began again.
The trustee that Nick knew as Joe approached him. "Nick, you have to come with me, you have a visitor."
Nick stopped folding. His mind started racing with thoughts about who the visitor could be. He quietly followed Joe down the hall towards the first room before being allowed into the phone room.
Standing with his arms extended off to the sides, Nick waited patiently for the guard to do the body search before he could be allowed into the room. Once the guard was satisfied, he pressed the buzzer which allowed the adjoining room door to swing slowly open.
The guard standing next to the door told Nick he was to sit in booth number three. Nick walked up to the empty booth and sat down on the hard stool and waited.
Nick looked down at the dirty counter in front of him. He figured this was going to be another boring meeting with his attorney, telling him he was still working on getting him out, telling him he was still gathering more information.
This had been going on for almost three months and the attorney kept promising him that they were getting closer, but that was all he had been able to tell Nick, nothing more.
Nick could see from the reflection on the countertop that someone had finally taken a seat on the other side of the thick glass window. He slowly raised his head to acknowledge the visitor.
Looking back at Nick through the smudged glass, Kevin Richardson's mouth dropped open. Nick didn't look like the Nick that had left him three months ago. His eyes had dark circles under them, the once blonde hair was now a dark brown, down past his ears and greasy. He also looked like he had easily lost twenty pounds. He looked like his whole essence was beaten down. Like he was a shell of the person he used to be.
Nick blinked away the tears that stung his eyes. His jaw set, he tried desparately to control his emotions. He placed his hand on the glass, Kevin reciprocated the movement and placed his hand on the other side of the thick glass...the closest either could come to contact.
They both picked up the communication phones.
"How's Brian?" Nick asked quietly, he had to repeat the question, clearing his hoarse voice.
"Brian's doing better. He's talking now and the therapists are working with him to regain strength in his arms and legs," Kevin replied. "How are you?"
Nick sighed. He wanted to tell him that he was losing his will to live through this mess, but he smiled faintly. "I'm okay."
"Nick, they are going to get you out of this, you know that?" Kevin spoke, his voice thick with emotion.
"Yeah, I know you're trying," Nick replied.
They sat there for a few moments, just staring at one another. Nick didn't have anything to offer in conversation, there was nothing in his day to day exsistence that would give him anything to talk about.
Desperate for any sort of conversation, Kevin wracked his brain for something to tell Nick. The only things he could think of were things that Nick certainly didn't need to hear: a replacement being considered for Nick, the breakup of the group.
"AJ and Howie said hi," Kevin forced a smile.
Nick nodded his acknowledgement. "Tell them I said hi back."
The guard standing by the door announced to Nick that he had three minutes left.
"Nick, is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?" Kevin spat out quickly, feeling the pressure of limited time.
Nick sadly shook his head. There were a million things he needed and wanted but the only real true thing Nick wanted was to know that Brian was okay. That was all he needed, not freedom, nothing, just to know that Brian was okay.
"Are you sure? Come on, there has to be something man," Kevin pleaded with Nick, he could tell by his face that he wasn't answering.
"Well, um, yeah there is," Nick started out, embarrassed.
Kevin leaned forward, anxious to find out and anxious to deliver.
"I'm out of soap and shampoo and it will take me another few months to build up the money to buy it, I get paid five cents a day and it cost more than what I have," Nick ackwardly explained.
"Tell me what to do and I will do it," Kevin replied.
"Time to go, Carter," the guard gruffly announced.
"Bye Kev, tell Brian to get better," Nick said quickly and hung his phone up.
"Wait! Nick!" Kevin shouted out in vain. Nick was already gone, led away by the guard.
As he was being led away, Nick bit his lower lip, trying to fight off the tears that stung his eyes. He didn't want to leave Kevin, there were so many things he wanted to ask him, so many things he wanted to say.
Nick stood in the new room with his arms extended, waiting for the guard to finish his job of doing the body search on him before he could go back to the laundry room. Once the guard was finished, he stood and waited for the trustee to come back to escort him to the laundry room. The humiliation Nick felt was beyond words.
Kevin reluctantly left the vistors room. He was angry to think that he was allowed only ten minutes with Nick. It was unfair, Nick had been convicted and sentanced literally before he had even gone to trial. He could tell that Nick was scared of them, the way he acted when they told him it was time to go, that was not the rebellious Nick Kevin knew.
Kevin prayed that this whole nightmare would end soon. Nick's attorney promised that he was close to tying up the loose ends. Kevin couldn't see anything happening at all. All he could see that Nick was slowly slipping away from them, slowly blending into the prision system.
Stopping at the front desk on his way out, Kevin inquired about leaving money for Nick.
The clerk pulled out a file box and thumbed through the cards until she pulled one out that had Nick's last name and ID number stamped on it. "Inmates are only allowed ten dollars on the account," she stated with a business-like tone.
Kevin reluctantly laid a ten dollar bill on the desk. The woman wrote the amount on Nick's card and gave Kevin a yellow receipt.
"What do they use the money for?" Kevin asked.
"Oh, lots of things but mainly cigarettes, things like that. We keep records of all the inmates purchases," she looked Nick's card over while she was talking and turned it over reading the back. "He usually buys cigarettes, sodas and candy, typical things."
"Cigarettes? Nick doesn't smoke, why would he buy cigarettes?" Kevin questioned her.
"It gets boring in the cells, I'm sure there are worse habits to form," the woman replied as she stuffed Nick's card back in the filebox.
Instead of going back to the laundry room, Nick was diverted to the yard, it was time for their hour long break. He got so he looked forward to going outside, it was a temporary escape from the stale smelling jail.
The sun was bright and Nick managed to find a spot to sit along the gates, soaking up the sunshine. He looked up when he heard heavy footsteps approaching him. His heart sank when he saw Devon leering over him.
"So pretty boy, you got it yet?" the muscular black man asked impatiently.
Nick looked up at Devon, squinting to block out the glare of the sun. "Um, I think I'll be able to get it for you this afternoon, I had a visitor and I think he left me some money on my account, I dunno if he did or didn't," Nick replied.
"Better hope so bitch, I need my cigarettes and I hate to mess up that face of yours," Devon spat out, turning away.
Nick watched as Devon and his inner circle of friends banged each others closed fists. Nick had been using his account money to buy off Devon, making sure he was kept with his supply of cigarettes. He didn't want trouble and Devon was sure to give it to him if he didn't cooperate. Nick had already been on the receiving ends of Devon's hard hits to his stomach, he didn't need any more trouble from him.
Part 4
Home