The Expired Murder

“The Divine Court of Immoral Acts is now in session for the retrial of Michael Howard, sentenced guilty of attempted murder in this same court two years ago!”

I stood firmly in place as the judge announced the start of this battle, one I had gone to hell and back just for the chance to fight in. Just to make it happen.

She continued.

“Defense representative Ethan Edwards. It’s because of your continuous insistence to this Court that this retrial has come to be in the first place. I hope you are aware of the implications of that.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

If I wasn’t, I could never have gotten this far.

“What about the consequences? Do you know what will happen if you lose?”

“I will be immediately declared guilty of violating the Divine Moral by trying to help a criminal be wrongly declared innocent, Your Honor.”

“That is correct. You can sit down, Mr. Edwards. I hope your… past history with the accused won’t affect your performance in court.”

Nice way to say I’m biased towards my friends. But of course, the court is never biased in for of anyone, being objective is its pride and joy.

“As for the accusing part… the evidence shall speak for itself and be interpreted objectively by me, the judge of this court.”

Just like always, there’s no need for a prosecutor. Even if there was one, in a retrial like this, the accused’s destiny is sealed since before it even begins.

The case is as follows: two years ago, Michael Howard (male, 22) was accused, tried and found guilty of attempted murder against a woman named Aubrey Williams (24 at the time of the incident) – who, by the way, had refused to come to this retrial, as legally dubious as that might be. The evidence against him was judged to be irrefutably incriminating, with no room left to doubt the man’s guilt.

On a Saturday night, Mr. Howard walked through the streets towards his apartment, obviously drunk, when he accidentally tripped over Miss Williams and fell to the floor. Angry and hurt, Mr. Howard had violently attacked Miss Williams with the victim’s own knife, and almost killed her. She had managed to fight back just enough to rid herself of his grip and flee the scene as fast as her legs would carry her. That had been the court’s official interpretation of facts.

The pieces of evidence presented were an alcohol test performed on Mr. Howard just a few minutes after the incident, medical reports on both the victim and the accused, a small knife with Miss William’s fingerprints that was found in Mr. Howard’s handbag and Miss William’s testimony. Mr. Howard was not allowed to give testimony. For that particular instance, no defense had been present for the accused, as the case was deemed far too clear and obvious for there to be any need for argument.

“Defense, you claim that the conclusion reached in the original trial for this case is erroneous; however no new evidence or testimony has been presented to the court during these two years. What makes you think the result now will be any different from what it was two years ago?”

“This time there’s a defense attorney in the stand, Your Honor.”

“The judge’s interpretation of the evidence is absolute.”

“Even so, it’s not set in stone.”

“… That’s correct. Continue.”

“I would like to reconstruct the scene as interpreted by Your Honor two years ago, and immediately afterwards, propose my own version of events. Your Honor shall decide which one is correct.”

“Permission granted. Show your truth to the court, Mr. Edwards.”

***

The young man walked in silence, dizzy from an excess of alcohol in his veins. His path illuminated only by street lights and whatever leaked from the nightclubs that remained open at this hour, Michael Howard only wanted to get back to his apartment as soon as possible and go to sleep.

“Agh!”

But with his mind clouded as it was, he didn’t see a woman walking towards him. Accidentally, he stepped on her, making them both trip and fall. A small pocket knife fell from the woman’s purse into the floor as its owner grimaced in pain from landing butt-first on the cold pavement.

Howard mumbled angry slurs at the void, still not fully aware of what had happened. He got up and as he did, he saw the woman he had stepped on still on the floor. And besides her he saw the knife. In his angry, drunk state, his mind saw no other course of action. That woman had hurt him. She had made him fall. She deserved a bit of a punishment for that; a bit of toying with the knife would serve as a nice reminder to not get in his way.

Knife on hand, bloodshot eyes and rational thought disabled, Howard mercilessly-

Stab.

Stab, stab, stab.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

The piercing screams of a woman being deprived of her life resonated through the city slums, but nobody came to help her. Even though most of the strikes only came to craze her, the pain was felt all the same.

She fought with all her strength, primal instincts kicking in to turn the once dignified young woman into a ferocious beast, like a prey about to be devoured but who’s still refusing to give up until the very last moment. And in the end, against all odds, she succeeded. Pushing the crazed Howard away with all her might, she sent him flying into the opposing wall, a loud thud echoing as his body slammed against the flat surface. The young man, now covered in deep cuts from his struggle against Williams, lay there unmoving.

A few minutes later, the police arrived, and the investigation officially began for Michael Howard’s attempted murder case.

***

“Is anything from the previous depiction of events different to what Your Honor concluded was the truth two years ago?”

“No, nothing at all. You have quite a good memory, Mr. Edwards.”

“Not really, Your Honor. This case is just special.”

“Hm, I would imagine. Now, then please proceed with your new interpretation of events.”

“Of course.”

***

The young man sat in silence, dizzy and half asleep due to the effects of one too many rounds at the bar a few minutes earlier.

In a barely illuminated back alley, he just sat there, waiting for the alcohol poisoning to subside and let him walk back to his apartment. The next day wasn’t a workday, though, so he could be thankful for that.

As these thoughts passed through his mind, he saw someone coming towards him. A woman – though it took him a while to realize. And as he did, he noticed she wasn’t just going through the street he was in – rather she was going directly to him. His senses momentarily recovered enough perception for his fogged brain to realize, 'something's not right'.

And before he knew it-

Stab.

Stab, stab, stab.

Pain flooded Howard’s body.

His senses collapsed.

The sheer pain of a knife cutting through his skin eliminated whatever rational thought was left in him. He tried to fight, but the pain was too strong, and he had little to no energy regardless.

But as slow and weak as his blows were, some managed to land. Chipping away at his attacker – desperately and painfully fighting against his own pain – Howard clamped at the empty air in front of him – until eventually managing to yank the knife out of Williams's hands, throwing it away and trying his best to strike the now defenseless woman back. Though with little success, since the pain kept him from managing anything more than grazing her with the tip of the blade.

…

After a while, Howard felt as if time had stopped moving. From the excessive bleeding, he lost consciousness, just in time to see the woman taking back the knife and putting it inside his handbag.

She didn’t just stop there though.

As an unconscious Howard kept losing more and more blood, Williams stood unmoving, flinching from the pain she’d suffered from the couple of landing blows Howard had thrown at her.

The young woman eventually moved away when she convinced herself that her victim was not going to strike back anytime soon, and called the police from an old public phone that was still somehow functioning in this day and age.

A few minutes later, the police arrived, and the investigation officially began for Michael Howard’s attempted murder case.

***

“What atrocity is this, Mr. Edwards?! Do you not realize what you have just proposed to this court? That the victim was the perpetrator and the accused was the victim?!”

“That’s exactly what I proposed, yes. Does any of the events I’ve proposed contradict the physical evidence or Your Honor’s interpretation of it?”

“… No. It does not.”

“So then, what’s the issue? I’ve presented a brand new scenario which proves the innocence of my client is possible, and in fact, it makes more sense now than it did before-”

“Abstain from making such statements. Implying that this Court’s judgement is senseless will be punished accordingly. Nobody should be shameless enough to accuse such an upstanding citizen, someone who’s donated millions to the ones in need and supported movements for human rights, of a crime as heinous as this!”

Ugh.

“… Yes, Your Honor. As I was saying, this second possibility I’ve presented is very much real, at least as much as the court’s official version of events. So, I believe with this my client can no longer be called guilty without further proof…”

“That’s not true, Mr. Edwards. There is one piece of evidence that completely contradicts your version of the events.”

“Which is…?”

“Miss William’s testimony. She stated that the events had happened in accordance with the court’s official version. How can you explain that?”

“She could… just have been lying?”

“Impossible. Unless contradicting testimony is presented and validated, Miss William’s testimony shall be treated as factual proof. This is especially true for someone who has always acted for the good of others in the past, no previous offences whatsoever. I’m sorry, defense, but your only way of possibly arguing against the validity of her testimony would be to have the accused himself, Mr. Howard, testify.”

“…”

“Is something the matter?”

“Michael Howard is dead. He died from blood loss that Saturday night, mere minutes after the police arrived to the scene of the incident. How am I supposed to get a dead man to testify?!”

“You cannot, Mr. Edwards. This is why this retrial was pointless to begin with. Unless you can find some miraculous way to disprove fact, the truth shall remain unchanged forever.”

“… Your Honor.”

“Yes?”

“Is the court aware of what was stolen from the deceased Mr. Howard that night?”

There it was. The instant I said that – the judge’s expression contorted into one of shock and anguish. This is why… This is the reason this pointless battle had to be fought.

“Apart from his life, one more thing was stolen from the accused that night. And it’s right there in the evidence, within his medical report.”

“Please enlighten the court with your findings.”

For once, I was starting to enjoy her dry replies. She was no longer looking down at me – instead, she was afraid of what I’d say next.

“Michael Howard’s pinky finger was missing. The reports said it had been severed off recently, so it can’t have been just a coincidence. What does the court think about this?”

“It has no relation to the case. That is all.”

“I must ask you to reconsider. There exists definite proof linking this finger to this case, and more specifically, to-”

“The court is ready to announce its verdict. I apologize, Mr. Edwards. Your time is over today.”

Tsk. Should have known this would happen. They really didn’t want me saying anything about that case, did they. But I can’t blame them; after all, if I did say anything, heads would have certainly rolled – not necessarily as a metaphor.

But her reaction was confirmation enough.

That was all I needed, that was the reason I had come to this Divine Court where the devil reigns over every action. I would much rather have cleaned my friend’s name but alas – there’s some truths one cannot fight against. And there’s nothing else I can do.

“The Divine Court of Immoral Acts finds the accused, Michael Howard, guilty of attempted murder! This court is now adjourned.”

***

And so the curtain closes on this first case. A rather pointless endeavor, but one that was necessary for what’s yet to come. Questions left unanswered, mysteries never to be resolved – that’s nothing but routine in this place. Maybe we can do something about that. Or maybe not.