With the efficient movement that came from constant practice I pushed open the ancient ebony doors; hefty but the joint movements are smooth from constant use. As always I'm surprised by how well aired the Courtroom is and I can't help but wonder if this was always the case. The room is dimly lit and without waiting for my eyes to adjust I immediately recognised the three in the room.
"The time already served has been more than sufficient, I fail to see the continual need for this" said the first man, average build, dressed in a simple, average looking suit. His face is also very plain, but in a comfortable way, woman won't find him handsome but certainly easy on the eyes conveying a sense of safety. Good I thought to myself as I sat down on a nearby bench, I didn't miss much.
"Ha! The same old tiring argument, do you ever come here with anything new" sniffed the second; his shred, sharp features accentuates his arrogant air and hides none of his content by the whole proceedings; an opinion known by all.
The third and final man, naturally the Judge of the Court whose face is always cloaked in darkness, featureless and forever silent, words are not needed here.
"Because that's the simple truth!" boomed the plain face man, his voice lacks gravitas, yet his passion and conviction somehow comes through and it doesn't take long for any bystander to understand why he is good at what he does. "The circumstances and mitigating factors should have been more thoroughly considered and while certainly gross errors in judgement was made, none of it premeditated but rather products of circumstance"
"Why do we still entertain such delusions? We all know that this is not the true - rather the rationalisation of the guilty, perfectly versed after countless revisions and healthy doses of selective amnesia. We all have heard these words for the umpteenth time it ringed false the first time round and it remains so now. The sharp faced man riposted, uncompromising as always never looking at his listeners in the eye, afraid that mere eye contact will rob him of his wit and objectivity.
The proceedings are proceeding as they always do - at first these look like closing rebuttals and statements but after so much repeated practice with the evidence, witnesses, exhibits, and circumstantial evidence the facts are so well known to all that their presentation has been waived on both sides. Neither party ever argue on these anymore.
"There was never any denial of wrongdoing, merely that the punishment thus far has more than fit the crime, no crime can possibly deserve these punishments"
"Luckily that is up to the judge and not your lofty interpretation and questionable opinions"
As always the Judge remains silent, he is always silent and unmoving. But his recent demeanor makes his past self seem active. The judgement stands and no reprieve or parole is given, I feel the verdict in my bones and so does both of these men, they slump into their respective seats and heaves a heavy sigh of helplessness.
The plain man - in the past though lacked direction was always filled with vitality and energy is now merely content to sit and blankly stare. His usual routine of screaming defiance at every wrong turn, refusal to admit defeat, was what earned him many successes and have been the more prominent figure for the longest time. I can't help but wonder if he will ever be the same again?
The shred looking man - whose recent continual victory here does not earn him any joy. He has a twisted personality and the only kind word I can use to describe him is "conflicted". He longed to be proven wrong, but never in his wildest dreams expect it all to turn out this way. So now even though playing this role continually kills him inside, he doesn't know how else to live.
Then there is me, both the observer, prisoner and executioner of this trial. I can only continually wonder between the evidence and the next trial. Perhaps the shred man will finally break down from his internal contradictions? Or maybe he will return as the cynic for the sake of being a cynic? The plain man had a wonderful run, who would've imagined that he managed to gather so much traction and steam to last so long? I certainly didn't expect it; but without the vitality and the stubborn refusal to accept reality, he will crumble under his own weight of self doubt, it's just a matter of time.
Like I have done so in the past thousand times since the first trial started, I pulled at the heavy dark doors with an surprising economy of movement and look back into room and not for the first time I contemplated just ending this whole charade once and for all. As the door closed I slowly walked towards the evidence locker of my own memories and once again lost myself there...the prisoner of my own mind.
