– Spilling everyday experiences with words –
Posted on February 2, 2021 by Ugo Nkwoala
Melchizedek – as he was popularly known sat on a dais above his finger happy clerk and his chattering typewriter, silent and inscrutable behind large reading glasses as proceedings at Court 12 progressed slowly.
“You see those dark glasses he wears, they are magnifiers. Just a minute look at you, he can see you up close. He can see into your soul as you testify.” The prosecuting lawyer whispered to a pickpocket standing trial.
“Should I plead not guilty?
“Are you guilty?
“But you said the judge knows the accused 100%.”
“Are you guilty as charged?” The attorney again asked.
Copyright © Ugo Nkwoala | Spilledwoords.org | 2021
Photo credit: Sora Shimazaki
Category: Politics & Social norms, Short story & Flash FictionTags: courtroom, Criminals, Equal-Justice-for-the-Poor, judges, Justice-system, prosecuting attorney, protest, standing-trial
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