The Final Act

Going by her reflection in the stainless-steel, she could see the Prosecution made a good point about her. Too bad his argument had been overruled. According to Judge Holland, “the defendants looks are not a fair or verifiable assessment on their likelihood to commit murder, Mr. Rudolf” to which the Prosecutor had replied under his breath “Exactly my point, your Honor” before sitting back down to review his notes.

Meanwhile her sweaty obese attorney had taken center stage – and flopped.

She’d recoiled inside. Why couldn’t she have had Mr. Rudolf defend her – especially since he had such star quality? Even his passionate contempt for her was admirable. Instead, she had a misshapen catastrophe in a creased suit. But she was not surprised. The victim’s family were rich, and she had to settle for state representation.

Like so many times in her life, the onus was on her. She would have to outperform the Prosecution herself.

The make-shift mirror in the communal bathrooms relayed her outward appearance back to her: a young petite woman with shoulder-length hair in a conservative style – that is, no style at all. It used to be blonde and curled, but she’d gone back to her roots: a dull brown she’d always disliked. She looked like a boring Librarian or some sad, spinster cat-lady who couldn’t get herself a man never mind stab him to death.

Though her appearance should have no bearing on the truth, as the Judge rightly pointed out, the jury was but a cross-section of lemmings. She had faith that their collective mind would swallow up the narrative so long as it fit comfortably with whatever stereotype or expectations society had nurtured over the years.

A white, small, bland-looking woman with the personality of cardboard was incapable of two things: sex and murder. Under normal circumstances, she would walk the streets unnoticed. If anyone did happen to notice her, she would probably be pitied – or maybe mocked – but never, ever suspected of a gruesome crime.

But Mr. Rudolf had narrowly exposed her newly dowdy image – his argument that she was “not so innocent as she’d like us to believe” was dangerously close to the truth. She could only hope that his suggestion had not polluted the waters and that the jury would instead continue to lap up her depiction of frailty and innocence.

She would know today if her efforts would pay off, for the day of her judgement had arrived. She kissed her hand and touched her reflection’s cheek. They were in this together, no matter what. Her outward self, and her inward one. Both had protected one another, and today would be no different.

In court, the atmosphere was somber. Up until now, the trial had been somewhat upbeat, dare she say glamorous. But the buzz of the fight had gone. It was out of their hands now, except for the closing statements. After which, her fate would be decided. She was not hopeful; she could sense her freedom slipping away. She was foolish to think she even had a chance.

With wide eyes, she watched as the jury hung on to Mr. Rudolf’s every word in his closing statement. He was ‘on to her’ and she knew it. They all knew it. She would admire Mr. Rudolf if she didn’t hate him so much.

“Statistics show that the majority of women who kill know the victim intimately. There is no question, ladies and gentlemen, that Ms. Macy knew Mr. Benson intimately."

There was a furtive snigger. The Judge was not impressed and raised her gavel but the sniggers dissipated quickly. She hoped it was out of shame.

"So intimately, in fact, that she became obsessed with him. So intimately, that she stabbed him. Thirteen times. In a jealous fit of rage. In his sleep. Unable to defend himself. A family man who leaves two children behind."

He let that sink in, before continuing.

“It was premeditated. It was cowardly. It was heartless. Not only that, she tried to cover it up. Now she wants you to believe that she is innocent – not an experienced sex worker who is far removed from the image she portrays here today. She may have fooled her supporters, but she does not fool me. Do not let her fool you either, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Secure justice for Mr. Benson and his family."

He finished and took a seat. It was a surprise to her that he did not receive a standing ovation – she got the feeling it was a surprise to him too.

Now it was the defense’s turn. Her attorney would have given his closing statement if she had not intervened and requested that she speak for herself. Her original plan was to perform as though to an audience, or a casting panel looking to fulfil the role of ‘generic innocent person’. She was going to radiate innocence through how she spoke, her expression, her body language – after all, she had been an actress her whole life, it couldn’t be that hard, could it?

But, tired of pretending, she instead aligned herself with the truth. Didn’t the truth set you free?

“You’re right, Mr. Rudolf. I did put on an act.”

The jury gasped.

“I made up this,” she flipped her lifeless hair, “character to prevent the negative assumptions of a sex-worker from affecting my case,” she continued.

She turned to Mr. Rudolf directly. “Just like the ones you made, Mr. Rudolf.”

She detected a sudden redness in his cheeks.

“People like you are the reason I change up my look, change my behavior. To survive in this society! There is not a woman in here that doesn't do that. This is nothing but another one of those times. I had to give myself the best chance for justice because the truth just doesn’t cut it," she could feel herself heating up - God forbid she came across as a crazy, irrational woman - so she took a deep breath to calm down, "especially not for a woman like me.”

She made eye contact with the jury, hoping they could see her inner self behind her eyes, and the truth that resided there.

“I had to do what I had to do. I had to defend myself in bed with a monster, and I had to defend myself here – in a court where judgement is pre-determined based on the flavor of the day. My fate had already been decided for me. So tell me, what would you have done?"

She paused while she let the courtroom consider it.

“The reality is,” she said, “I may have put on an act to look innocent, but my innocence is not an act.”