My trial date has finally arrived and I’m feeling quite
excited. I could hardly contain myself as I rushed through breakfast and impatiently
waited for the guards to process my transfer. I’d be back the same day, but any
movement had to be monitored and the proper forms completed. It had taken some
arranging but an old friend had organised a new suit for the occasion. It felt
good to be out of the prison denims and into something more stylish. I looked
as dapper as I could be considering the circumstances.
Transport to the court was provided by a private security
firm. We were loaded into the back of a white lorry and ushered into individual
cells inside. Each was tiny, with just enough space to sit on the hard plastic
seat. There was a small armoured glass window that allowed us to see the
outside world. It was too high to see through while sitting, so I stood for
most of the journey. It had been many weeks since I had seen anything beyond
the confines of the prison, so I enjoyed the view as we moved through the early
morning traffic.
We arrived at the courthouse and we were unloaded from the
lorry and taken into the underground cells beneath the old building. I amused
myself with reading some of the graffiti while I waited.
After an hour or so I was taken upstairs into the courtroom
itself. I stood in the dock, flanked by two security guards, and two policemen
stood guard by the main doors as additional security. I took the time to look
around, it was a large open room. I could almost smell the history of the place,
many people had their justice served here for many years and now it was my
turn.
Across the room, empty at the moment was the bench where the
judge would preside. Below me was the desks for the lawyers, the prosecution
lawyer and his assistants talked quietly amongst themselves. The other for the
defence team was empty. To the right was the witness box, also empty at the
moment. To my left some distance away, where two benches filled with the jurors
for my case. They were a mix of men and women, some knew of me, a few did not. Some
were thrilled with the chance to decide another’s fate. Others looked nervous
and would much rather be about the normal lives.
Behind and above me was the public gallery. It was filled
mostly with reporters, all had notebooks in their hands, all were eager for
something juicy to report. One of them sketched the room before him.
I sat down and as if waiting for me to do so the judge made
his appearance. He wore his full finery, red robe and white wig. Everyone stood
up as he entered, I did the same. Now isn’t the time to miss the little niceties.
After the judge sat down, everyone else did the same. We
then went through the initial proceedings. I confirmed my identity when asked.
The many charges were all read out, the important ones being the murder of
three passers-by and the two police officers who responded to the 999 calls. I
was asked how I pleaded. I replied that my guilt or otherwise wasn’t for me to
decide and that I’m sure the jury would let me know one way of the other soon
enough. The judge gave me a baleful glare, although a couple of the jurors and
reporters could be heard giving nervous chuckles. He instructed the court
recorder to write my plea as not guilty.
He then said asked whether I still refused legal counsel, I
said that I did, I didn’t need a lawyer to present the truth. Again he frowned
at me before declaring that it was my choice, and that I wouldn’t be able to
appeal on the grounds that I hadn’t been represented. I shrugged and replied
that there would be no need for me to appeal. He frowned again, I could tell he
was unhappy about this. People that represented themselves were always trouble
as they didn’t know how things worked. He was right about that, but not in the
way he imagined.
I was told to sit back down and then it was the prosecution’s
turn. The prosecutor stood, ready to begin his case against me.
Looking at him I slipped into his mind, the evidence was all
clear and he was experienced and ready to present. I could see how pleased he
was, this was a high profile case, my guilt was clear and this would progress
his career nicely. I focused past these
surface thoughts, past the thoughts under the surface about his wife, his
mistress and his children. I dug deeper, below the growing hunger, his need for
a coffee and a good smoke. I forced my way deeper still, to the thoughts that
were no longer thoughts, but the impulses that governed his body.
I found the triggers I wanted and pushed. The prosecutor
started to speak and then choked on his words. A low moan escaped his lips as
he stumbled forward, collapsing across his papers. At that I chuckled, I
laughed as one of the police officers rushed to his aid. I continued to laugh
as the officer gave CPR that normally would have saved his life, but I kept
pushing at those triggers, making sure that his heart would not restart. A trickle
of blood escaped his lips as his final breath left his body.
With a sigh I stopped laughing. The second police officer
spoke into his radio and then there was a hush throughout the courtroom. “I
hope the prosecution has a stronger case than that” I chuckled again.
The judge’s anger finally broke through his control. “You
will be silent!” he commanded. “You will remain silent unless given leave to
speak and you will show the proper respect to the officers of this court. If
you do not, you will be held in contempt of court.”
“Contempt of court?” I replied, “Of course I hold this court
in contempt. And if I do, what will you do? Send me to prison?” I chuckled
again, then continued “He is just the first. Every day this trial continues
another will die. And you “, I pointed at him, “cannot stop this.”
From behind me I can hear the frantic scribble of pencils on
paper. I smile again, this trial is off to a good start.
He’s getting really angry now, he orders the guards to take
me back to the cells. The trial will resume the next morning. I am escorted
from the dock, but before I leave I look at the public gallery, give them my
best smile, and allow myself to be taken below. As I am lead away the paramedics arrive and
start their futile attempts to revive the prosecutor.
No comments:
Post a Comment