ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟞
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Justin sees me, relief washing over his face immediately, though I'm not sure if it should.
"You're here," he says quickly.
"I'm your lawyer, Mr. Deyes." I reply, setting my bag down, my hands moving automatically as I begin laying things out.
"Yes, yes." he sighs before leaning in closer. "..You've got everything, right?"
My heart drops again. The million dollar question. The one I can't answer the way he wants me to.
"I'll do my best," I say, though it's not confident at all, and Justin notices. His shoulders stiffen again and he furrows his eyebrows.
"I'm here, aren't I?" I say, sharper than I mean to be.
He nods quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."
A wave of silence goes through the room. "All rise."
The judge shifts in his seat, then we all sit.
"Prosecution, you may proceed."
He walks forward like he knows everything he's going to say.
"Your Honor," he begins, "the facts of this case are clear."
"A fire broke out on the evening in question, resulting in the deaths of three individuals and serious injuries to five others."
"The defendant, Justin Deyes," they continue, "was present at the scene and had both motive and opportunity."
My jaw tightens, I need to say something.
"Objection," I say quickly. "Assumes facts not in evidence."
The judge barely looks up. Instead he sighs and waves a dismissive hand "Overruled."
My stomach drops. What a great start.
A great, great start.
"Mr. Deyes had a documented dispute with the property owner regarding unpaid rent," they continue.
"Objection—mischaracterization," I say.
"Overruled."
What the hell was going on? I can practically hear my heartbeat. Opposing counsel gives me a cocky look before talking again.
"Witness statements indicate raised voices and escalating tension shortly before the fire began."
"Objection. Hearsay."
"Sustained."
Finally.
I clear my throat to speak, but opposing counsel interrupts my train of thought.
"Let me rephrase. Multiple individuals reported disturbance consistent with conflict."
I open my mouth, and hesitate. Nothing comes out.
"Objection?" Judge says, like he knows my every move.
I look back down at my hands, sighing quietly. "No."
~
After a long list of evidence and photos that I personally don't think match up, he's finally done talking. "Your honor, the prosecution rests for now."
The judge turns to me. "Defense."
My name isn't said, but it might as well be.
I stand up slowly, every movement heavier than it should be. I look around– all eyes are on me. So many eyes were on me and I haven't said a word yet.
I feel like a fool.
My notes are right in front of me, but they don't feel like my weapon. Right now, it feels like ordinary paper.
"Counsel," Judge says, "do you have a response?"
I can feel Justin's gaze on me. He was waiting–waiting for me to fight–to say something–anything! But my throat feels tight and my mouth is dry. I want to say something, I really do, but all I can think of is: this isn't enough. I don't have enough.
"...no," I say finally.
Justin's head whips toward me.
"What?" he whispers, panic breaking through. "What do you mean no?"
I don't look at him. I can't bring myself to.
The judge pauses before chuckling.
"...very well," he says slowly.
Even if Justin didn't do it, even if everything in him is innocent, we both know this is how people lose. Because there isn't enough to prove that they aren't guilty. It feels like I'm watching someone slip through my hands.
"...Dixie," he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. "No, no-say something. You have something, right? You have to have something."
I hate myself for freezing right there. I have to force my fingers to move, for my body to actually work.
"Your Honor," I say, my voice steadier than I feel, "the defense would like to present evidence."
The judge nods once. "Very well, then."
I stand properly this time, gathering a file from my table. My hands shake, my legs feel putty. Like they belong to someone else.
"Exhibit D," I begin, holding it up slightly. "Fire scene documentation indicating inconsistencies in the origin determination."
"Objection," opposing counsel cuts in. "Lack of expert authentication."
I whip my head towards him immediately, feeling doom in my chest. "Your Honor, this documentation was retrieved through official channels-"
"Sustained." He finishes.
I inhale shakily, my fingers tightening around the paper. It doesn't even mean anything now. Justin leans closer, voice shaking.
"They saw him. Someone had to see him, Dixie. That helps, right? That helps?"
I don't reply. I'm unable to.
"Your Honor," I say, forcing my voice to stay level, "the defense would like to argue that the timeline presented by the prosecution fails to account for external factors—"
"Objection. Argument without foundation."
"...overruled," the judge says this time. Finally.
I step forward.
"The fire's behavior," I continue, "does not align cleanly with an interior origin tied to my client's direct control. There are inconsistencies—gaps—that have not been fully addressed."
I glance towards Justin slightly.
"And while the defense acknowledges that the evidence may not yet be complete, it raises reasonable doubt as to the certainty of my client's responsibility."
I step back, knowing that's all I have. Justin's breath hasn't slowed at all. If anything it's gotten worse.
"Your Honor," they begin, "the defense has presented speculation in place of substantiated evidence."
I close my eyes briefly. I just want a hole to come and swallow me whole already.
"While we acknowledge their attempt to introduce alternative possibilities," he continues, "none of these claims have been sufficiently supported to outweigh the established facts of this case."
"And, the resulting fire caused catastrophic loss of life."
"This court cannot operate on uncertainty alone," he finishes. "We require evidence- and the prosecution has provided it."
I feel myself getting irritated at his words. I was prepared. I did have evidence. Everything was supposed to go well. The judge leans back slightly, hands folding together. The life of someone is in his hands and he knows it.
"In reviewing the arguments and evidence presented," the judge begins, "this court finds that the prosecution has met its burden."
My eyes stay on my hands.
"In light of the severity of the incident," the judge continues, "and the loss of life involved, the court finds the defendant-"
The whole room holds its breath, waiting for his final words.
"Guilty."
A few surprised gasps break out, the whole room shifts.
Justin exhales sharply, like the air's been knocked out of him.
"No-no, I didn't do this," he starts, his voice breaking. "I didn't do this, I swear I didn't—"
"Order," the judge says firmly. Justin presses his lips in a tight line.
"However," the judge continues, "the court acknowledges that the defense has raised considerations that prevent full certainty in the intent behind the act."
"The death penalty will not be pursued."
Justin's voice cracks again. "What?"
"Instead," the judge says, "the sentence for Mr. Justin Deyes will be life imprisonment, with the possibility of parole."
Something weird settles in my chest. At least this was less final than death.
Oh, shut up Dixie. He's still being framed.
Justin lets out a shaky breath. I watch as tears gather in his eyes.
"Okay," he mutters. "Okay...okay..."
"You said you'd help me," he says, voice trembling. "You said- you said you'd do your best-this is your best?"
"Justin-" I start, my eyes immediately soften.
"No," he shakes his head, backing away slightly as officers begin to approach. "No, don't- don't say my name like that. You-"
His voice breaks.
"You had to have something, didn't you? You were supposed to have something!"
"I tried," I say quietly, it sounds empty, like it's not coming from me.
"Tried?" he laughs weakly, shaking his head. "I'm going to prison for life and you tried?"
"I'm sorry."
"You're supposed to be good at this," he says, tears slipping down now. "That's what they said. That's why I trusted you."
I don't argue with him. He's right to feel that way.
"I am sorry," I repeat. And I mean it, more than anything.
Officers step forward, placing a hand on his arm. "Let's go."
"No-wait," he resists slightly, still looking at me. "Dixie, tell them-I didn't do this. Tell them!"
My throat tightens, but no words come out. It doesn't matter anymore–the decision has been made.
"I didn't do it," he says again, quieter now. "I didn't..."
His haunting voice fades as they start to guide him away. He looks back once.
But I can't meet his eyes. I can't.
~
The door clicks shut behind me. I flick my heels off, next to Cameron's.
He must've gotten back not long before me- his keys on the counter, jacket on the hanger, his things fill the silence more than his presence does.
He comes down the hallway the second he hears me. He's wearing a blue shirt with grey sweatpants, and his hair is smoothed to the back.
"Hey," he says, smiling a little. "You're here."
I can't bring myself to answer him. Instead, I walk past.
My bag slips from my shoulder onto the floor somewhere behind me- I don't even register where it lands.
"Dix?" he calls, following, his voice is softer now.
I keep walking up the grand stairs, down the hall, into the bedroom. I start taking off my blazer before I even fully step inside, shrugging it off like it's weighing me down too much. I can hear Cameron's footsteps follow.
"Did you win?" he asks.
I wince at the question. I'm Dixie West– I'm supposed to win every case. But not today. Not Justin Deyes.
My earrings come off first, then my blouse.
"Dixie," he says again, quieter this time.
I strip down until I'm left in something light and easy, something that doesn't feel like the courtroom is still clinging on to it.