The Murder Trial

I followed my target through the woods. I kept my knife behind my back and my breathing steady, waiting for the right moment to strike. I accidentally stepped on a twig. It snapped and I froze. My target froze too. Their breathing sped up. I had to hide. Before they looked over their shoulder, I ducked behind a bush and kept quiet. I was out of sight. My target stated moving again, jogging this time, so I followed.

***

After a few minutes, I finally got close enough to make my move. I took the knife and stabbed my target in the back. They let out a high-pitched scream and dropped to the bumpy and leafy ground. I wiped the crimson-colored blood off my face with my sleeve. Someone would eventually find out this person has been murdered. So, what do I do? Hide…the…evidence. Hide the evidence and pretend like nothing happened. That’s exactly what I did. I hid the person’s body in the deepest part of the woods. I hid the blood-stained knife in my pocket of my hoodie and walked back home.

***

A about a week later, I started to get out the house. I had to get things for me to eat. The local Walmart was a walking distance from my apartment. As I was walking, I noticed a MISSING poster pinned to the side of a shop. I stared at the woman in the picture. I recognized the face, but I couldn’t recall the name of the girl. Maria…Jackson. Maria Jackson.

MISSING. If you see this girl, please call this number. 170-488-7889.

Maria Jackson was the girl I was sent to assassinate.

***

A few months after that, I received a letter from the courthouse in my city. The letter stated that I have been requested to appear as a witness for a case. The Murder of Maria Jackson. They have a suspect. It turns out I’m associates with the guy they think killed her. Aaron Keyes was the suspect and I was chosen to defend him. At first, I thought I had all the evidence to prove him innocent. I was the actual killer after all. But then I realized I didn’t. I didn’t have all the evidence. I destroyed—okay, maybe destroyed is a bit harsh—I hid any evidence I had! I couldn’t prove him innocent even if I wanted to! There was nothing left I could use to support my statements! Suddenly, a light bulb lit up in my head. There might actually be a small piece of evidence left. I dashed to my office and rummaged through my drawers.

***

I searched and searched until I found what I was looking for. I pulled out the knife. The same knife I used to kill the target. I started to think I could use this to defend Keyes, but after envisioning the possible scenarios—and how useless it would be in court—the thought of using it was…inconceivable. The knife had my fingertips all over it! Literally! I would be presented with questions that I couldn’t answer without blowing my cover. How did you get access to the murder weapon? I would’ve started sweating like I’d just run a marathon! I could say I’m one of the police that investigated the crime scene. No. That wouldn’t’ve worked. I would’ve been asked to show the courtroom my badge. A badge I didn’t have. I could say I’m a private investigator and was given access to the weapon. I could say I was supposed to check for fingerprints. No! That wouldn’t’ve worked either! 1.) I still would’ve been asked to show a badge or id. 2.) I couldn’t say my fingerprints were on the weapon. That would’ve blown my cover.

***

I had to come up with a way to defend Keyes. I didn’t have any evidence—which would immediately signal that I was the actual killer—and I couldn’t use the knife. I tried to think of other solution, but my head was like an empty pot. I looked at the clock on my phone. The time was one-thirty in the afternoon. I stared at it for a while, not realizing what it meant. Suddenly, I felt a rush, a wave. "Dammit," I mumbled. The trial started at three o’clock! How do I go to court to defend someone without evidence to defend them?

***

I arrived at the courthouse with a manila folder that said CONFIDENTIAL tucked under my arm. The guards wanted to see what was inside the folder, but I pointed out that the folder literally had the word CONFIDENTIAL written on it. I explained I was defending the suspect for the The Murder of Maria Jackson case. The guards told me which room the trial was being held in and let me inside. When I entered the room, Aaron Keyes was being handcuffed to a chair. When he met my gaze, his eyes widened and he smiled. I tired to walk over to him, but the policemen that handcuffed him blocked me. I explained that I was requested to appear as his witness. They gave me a dirty look. Eventually they let me pass and let me talk to Keyes.

***

“You get two minutes,” One of the policemen said. I nodded in understanding.

“Ezra,” Aaron said. “I’m so thankful you’re defending me today.”

“It’s no problem,” I responded. “Honestly.”

“You have to prove I’m innocent. I—I won’t make it past tomorrow if you don’t”

“I’ll defend you so well, the opposing side won’t even be able to top what I say.” I wish I could say that with confidence. The truth is, couldn’t defend him.

“So, whatcha got in the folder? Documents that you’ll use to defend me?”

No. That’s what I didn’t have. That’s what I needed. Inside the folder, there was multiple pieces of paper with multiple things written on it. Things I possibly say to defend my colleague.

“Out with it,” Aaron said, disrupting my thought process. “What’s in the folder?”

I smiled softly. “It says confidential for a reason,”

Suddenly, one of the policemen pushed me away from Keyes. My two minutes were over. Aaron gave me one last smile before my sight was blocked.

***

It was only three-fifteen, but people we already starting to flood into the courtroom. Every few minutes, around ten to fifteen people showed up and took their seats. At three-thirty. The judge came in and hit his gavel on the sound block.

“Order in the court!” He shouted. The noise died down. Everyone was quiet.

It was time for the trial to start.