Barely an hour had passed, when a bailiff came out from the same door the jury had gone in just a short while back. He quickly assumed his normal position by the door, with his hands folded neatly behind his back. If art is the only way to find beauty in the mundane, then it goes without saying that people can’t help but become enchanted by a real spectacle. The real horror lay, not in the heinous act committed, but in the willingness of the people in attendance to be so enthralled by the events that were transpiring right before their eyes.
Once you have learned of the act committed in this case, you may unwillingly choose a side to be on, in terms of innocent or guilty. In life, events unfold much like an onion being peeled back. Like an onion, life does not have a real center, or even a predetermined endpoint. The more layers that are peeled back, the more we come to learn about any one individual, or even ourselves. It is not until we run out of layers to peel that we are left with nothing but a strong odor on our fingers and nothing to show for our efforts.
The bailiff was a burly man, forced to wear a tight uniform that made him look extremely top heavy. His pectorals protruded well past his waist line that he probably could not see his toes without bending forward. He had close cropped hair and one of those beards that seemed to regrow almost the instant after it was shaved. He continued to stand by the door, nearly motionless, until he got a signal through his earpiece that the judge was returning.
Gruffly, he spoke over the PA, “Will you all please rise for the Honorable Jeremiah Leesman.”
To be continued…