Intro – Courtroom “All rise.” “The Superior Court of Millstone County is now in session. The Honorable Judge Raymond Keller presiding.” “Be seated.” “Calling the case of The State vs. Daniel Mercer, Tyler Reed, Cole Bennett, and Marcus Vale.” “Mr. Mercer… will you take the stand?” “Do you swear to tell the truth?” “I do.” “My name is Daniel Mercer… and this is what happened.” ⸻ Verse 1 – 3:17 A.M. It was 3:17 when Tyler called, Voice half-laughing, half-installed In that reckless late-night tone That drags you from a quiet home. “Danny, man, we’re bored to death. Cole’s here too. Just left Seth’s. There’s this dude Marcus riding with us— Chill guy. You’ll like him. Trust.” Tyler Reed was backyard blood, Built tree forts, survived young floods. Cole Bennett, trouble with a grin, The kind that pulls you slowly in. Marcus Vale I’d never met— Leather jacket, cigarette. Didn’t talk much in the car, Just watched streetlights from afar. They said, “We’re broke. Tomorrow’s dry. No cash, no party, nothing fly.” I should’ve stayed. I knew the hour. But friendship has a subtle power. So I grabbed my hoodie, locked my door. Didn’t know I’d lose much more. ⸻ Chorus Guilty by association, One bad choice, no separation. Didn’t plan it, didn’t scheme, But I stepped into the scene. Now I’m speaking under oath tonight Under courtroom light— Trying to explain participation. Guilty by association. ⸻ Courtroom Interlude The prosecutor says I had a choice. Says I could’ve found my voice. Jury sitting carved in stone— Like fear is something overthrown. But fear don’t shout. It whispers, “Stay.” And weakness doesn’t look like evil Until the next day. ⸻ Verse 2 – Whitman’s Gas & Go We crossed into the neighboring town, Millstone County’s quieter side down. Pulled into Whitman’s Gas & Go, Fluorescent lights in a yellow glow. I thought we were filling tanks. Tyler said, “Relax.” Cole laughed. Marcus opened up the trunk— Pulled out masks wrapped in black. My stomach dropped through my shoes. That’s when I understood the truth. I said, “Yo… this ain’t right.” Marcus said, “Just stand tight.” Tyler wouldn’t meet my eyes. Cole said, “It’s quick. Don’t dramatize.” Fear can freeze you where you stand— Even when you understand. ⸻ Verse 3 – Inside The Gas Station Harold Whitman stood behind the till. Sixty-two. Soft-spoken. Still. Thirty years on that same night shift. Saving for grandkids’ Christmas gifts. Cole vaulted over the counter glass. Tyler grabbed the register cash. I just stood near the candy rack— Heart pounding in my chest like cracks. Mr. Whitman said, “Boys, don’t.” Not angry. Just… honest. Marcus moved too close, too fast. The moment stretched. Then it snapped. One sound. Loud. Permanent. Mr. Whitman hit the tile floor. Gasoline and gun smoke in the air. No movie slow-motion. No heroic repair. Just silence. And breathing I couldn’t control. ⸻ Chorus Guilty by association, Bound by one conversation. Didn’t fire. Didn’t aim. Still attached to the blame. Now every headline says my name Like we’re all the same— No differentiation. Guilty by association. ⸻ Verse 4 – The Morning After I didn’t sleep. Just stared at the wall. Tyler texted, “Don’t say all.” Cole said, “Delete everything.” Marcus didn’t say a thing. Morning news through living room blinds. My mother frozen mid-breath behind The anchor’s voice: “Local clerk Harold Whitman Fatally shot overnight. Four suspects arrested.” They showed his picture. He was smiling. That’s when it crushed me. Not in the store. Not in the car. But seeing his life Reduced to a headline bar. ⸻ Courtroom – Present Tyler Reed won’t look my way. Cole Bennett’s lawyer says don’t say. Marcus Vale sits still and cold— Like this story’s already old. The clerk’s wife in row three right Holds a tissue far too tight. Her world ended in aisle four. Because we wanted something more. The State says first-degree intent. Says presence equals consent. Says if I stood, I share the weight. That hesitation came too late. ⸻ Bridge – Direct to Jury I didn’t pull the trigger. But I didn’t leave. Didn’t stop it. Didn’t believe It would go that far. But it did. And Harold Whitman is gone. And I was there. ⸻ Final Chorus Guilty by association. No escape, no separation. Didn’t plan it. Didn’t know. But I didn’t go. Now I sit beneath this light Reliving that night— One ring rewrote my destination. Guilty by association. ⸻ Outro – Verdict Pending “If you had the chance again?” The prosecutor asks. I’d let the phone ring. I’d stay home. I’d lose the friends. “All rise.”
