By Simon Thomas
Christmas makes everybody act a bit strange.
Maybe it is the children’s films or the mince pies. The music, possibly, or the weather. Is it the tinsel?
“It’s self defence.”
It certainly wasn’t. It was cold blooded murder and, being a cold blooded lawyer, he must have known that.
“He came at you, you panicked and stabbed him.”
Six times. Until his quivering eyelids froze like the shimmering fields that made up his deathbed. Until his frenzied, muffled wheezes fell silent.
Then four more times after that. Piercing the mutilated flesh, twisting deep into the torso and carving my wicked mark into his seeping organs.
“The knife was his, he attacked you. You wrestled it from him and kept stabbing out of fear”
Nope. I’ve never felt more calm, more at ease, more comfortable. The caustic sensation I felt as the long, serrated dagger broke through the flesh of another man was exhilarating. It was natural. It was perfect.
All my business achievements, my children and everything else meant nothing. Powerful men knew not of power until they had experienced what I had.
“It will play well. He was a troubled young man. It was only a few months ago that he was in front of this same judge for burglary. He had a kid, it was Christmas. He needed the money”
A four year old son who will remember Christmas for the death of his father for the rest of his sorry, weak, meaningless existence. I did that. I stole his father from him, destroyed his everything and impacted his world indefinitely. His mother will struggle on heartbroken and grief stricken, tortured by my actions and longing for the past. I was their God.
“OK, it’s time. Remember everything I told you”
It was an intriguing couple of days. I had never experienced court before as a juror or of course a defendant. The evidence was beautifully orated, as if it were a fairy tale or fable even. The images, the shrieks of despair from the viewing gallery, the effort that the lawyers, the press, the stenographer and everyone had made all for me. I was the focus of it all.
The trial came to an end on an eventful day four.
I came to discover that I was wrong. Taking the life of another man was not perfect, getting away with it was.