“Alrighty then. The barkeeper and the three other witnesses confirm your side of the story. There isn’t a whole lot of evidence to support the contrary, and the Prosecutor’s story is erratic and will not be able to answer some key questions that the jury will have. I have to admit, your account of events is hard-hitting and meticulously planned. It’s almost as if you are telling the truth!” Sir Justice Hawthorn laughed nervously. “All you have to do is plead not guilty to the charges, and, worst case scenario is that we’ll have a hung jury.”
He sighed and looked up at the discoloured ceiling of his small prison cell. A couple more months, and after the trial, he’d be able to walk out of here as a free man again. He looked out from the small, barred window to the world outside. Or would he? He wondered.
Some things are more important than life.
“All rise.” said the usher. Once the jury had settled, the judge invited the associate to read out the charges. “You have been charged on two accounts. One, murder, and the second, for obstruction of justice and tampering of evidence. How do you plead?” he said with a stone-faced look, beckoning towards the defendant.
He looked around, his eyes settling on the man whose life depended on his answer.
“Guilty.” he said, in a barely audible whisper.