Young and Brave

“It was seven o’clock on a Sunday night and the sun crawled through the thin shades. Marking its harsh territory on my bed, I lay down as stiff as a rock and swallow the lump of spit that I had accumulated in my throat. My heart almost bursting, I had a gut feeling he was coming back. He told me he would be five minutes but sometimes it was longer. I was trying to think about ways to get away and maybe this time I did have time to escape.” The victim explained on the stand. 

“I was not sure what to do but like I said, my gut was telling me that this was the best time. Feeling like he was still in charge of me, I used every bone in my body to shove anything I could into a bag. I tied the sheets to the windowsill and fearfully climbed out of the window. 

I almost laughed about how easy it was for me to get out of the house successfully but to my surprise, he was there. 

Right there.

Driving his car up the driveway, I could see his forehead turn red with rage and his eyes targeted me like I was one of his hunting deer. 

I froze in utter terror and my body took over. I had no idea what I was doing and right then...I…

I tried to kill him.” 

Eyebrows and expressions raised, the jury let out a loud gasp. This is not what they were expecting. Even though no one spoke to one another, they already all had a decision made—or so they thought. 

Hours later, each juror was led into a large briefing room to discuss their decision. Large fluorescent lights shined under the bland popcorn ceiling and from the ceiling, white walls sagged like the wrongfully accused. Beige chairs were not strategically placed, but almost like they were heartlessly flung for just another case to be concluded. It was utterly depressing to some that thousands of jurors figured out decisions for criminal cases in such an average, plain room. 

Filing in and filling seats one by one ironically like prisoners, people of all ages, nationalities, and backgrounds pile in the room with vibrant colors and patterned language. 

After what seemed like hours, sweat started to secretly form from bald heads, intimate areas and under armpits. It was produced from the intense conversation lull in the draining environment that the state provided. 

Pens scribbled and minds wandered. Stress cynically dancing through the air, knowing its advancing, deviant power as time waltzed away.

Silence from the stress budged its way by as one participant expressed her ideas towards the case. Rage and feelings of violation came from the men’s mouths, almost mimicking the defendant's powerful persuasion techniques. Obviously, proving to the females that his persuasion had worked in his favor because the men were baffled and confused. 

It took one young lady's courage to murmur her truthful insight. Quiet as expected, but almost singing her passionate words and intelligence, she then defends the plaintiff and proves the defendant's guilt.

Heads stop and nod in synch, almost relieved that a complete decision has been expressed and finally made. What lingered in the back of some jurors' minds was that if it was the right one.