Leave Town Before Sunset
by .....© 1999 by John F. Clennan, All Rights Reserved
Of this story, the author says;
Greetings in fullosia the lion of philosophy & heir to phi:
I am enclosing one of my favourite courtroom vignettes 'Leave Town Before Sunset' ... and a challenge to D. Grant DeMan to come up with one of his inimitatable,copper legends in reply.
(simultaneous royal translation provided)
jfc
"Mr. Rawling." The Judge looked with bloodshot eyes over her reading glasses, her frazzled hair was tied back in a blue bow, which had been crisper and straighter when deliberations of the jury began three days prior.
She shook herself to try to regain consciousness. The trial itself had lasted less than an hour: The DA armed with grants from the powerful cable companies had thundered that theft is theft and that the dowdy professor should be put away, forever if possible. "Throw away the key," the DA implored. This made sense when, after the brief trial, the jury had been retired with the expectation of quick conviction.
The Judge drew a breath. "A juror may, regardless of the evidence, hold to an opinion that nothing violated a purely personal sense of justice."
She sighed. Minutes earlier a haggard jury stood before her for her harangue urging them to resolve the deadlock. Holding up the cost of trail as ransom, she punished the jury with continued confinement as punishment for intransigence.
As the disheveled jurors, filed out dragging their feet in disgust, the round shouldered, chubby defendant stood and bowed slightly with respect. His dark suit and speckles gave him the appearance of the math professor rather than the computer and cable pirate the indictment spoke of.
The Judge continued wearily. "All 12 must convict or acquit, Ergo deadlock."
As the Judge paused to look at papers passed to her for signature, the defendant leaned closer to me. "What's my chance ?"
"Three for you; Three against you" the rest want to go home. They don't care."
"Even money." The professor snapped back in the chair with determination.
Staring at the defendant, the Judge leaned forward. "Tell you what: Plead guilty, No punishment. Promise not to come back here again."
"Leave town before sunset," I snickered under my breath to the bemused defendant. I relaxed in my chair.
Although fueled with venom from bribes - called grants, the DA would now accept a point of honor as a win.
The defendant shook his head solemnly. "Not with even odds. You'll have to up the ante," the professorial client retorted.
I stared in dismay. Any time the defendant walked away free, the defense triumphed.
The Judge's tired face forced an enigmatic smile. "Think on it. You hold the key of fate in your own hand."
The Judge was about to rise when the bailiff handed her a note. "We have a verdict." A wicked smile now complimented her grace. "The keys," the judge chuckled, "are now back in their proper place."
