It was a bright cold day in April, and a disheveled man lay dead on the floor of an empty courtroom. The court had been adjourned just an hour ago and the deceased man was all that remained in the aftermath of what had been a quick and decisive trial.
The trial began early in the morning. The Prosecutor, drawing from decades of legal experience, arrived before the courthouse had even opened. In his hands he carried a grande Starbucks dairy-free latte and a synthetic patent leather briefcase. Inside the briefcase was a meticulously crafted legal case, the rhetorical equivalent of a high-caliber rifle. His arguments had been honed to perfection the night before. His evidence was foolproof. His dry-cleaned suit was immaculate and his silk tie shimmered with a confidence found only in the most seasoned of legal professionals.
The court convened and the jury filed into to their ranks. The Judge seated himself at the head of the courtroom. The Prosecutor strode into place and neatly arranged his notes on the oak podium. Silence befell the courtroom. The Prosecutor produced his case, a two thousand page opus of remarkable logic and insight. Every line had been personally written by The Prosecutor, every image, chart, and graph hand-selected.
His case was a masterwork of legal knowledge and expertise. A graduate of the esteemed Harvard Law School, The Prosecutor was a formidable opponent in the courtroom. In thirty years of criminal investigations The Prosecutor had yet to lose a case. He excelled at debate. For every argument, he had several counter-arguments. For every counter-argument, he had several more counter-arguments. He was a master of both logic and emotional appeal. Juries were said to have regularly been brought to tears from his heart-rending soliloquies.
The trial began and The Defendant was nowhere to be found. The jury grew restless with boredom. The Prosecutor remained collected and determined. Attempts were made to call The Defendant, each attempt resulting in the call going straight to voicemail. After forty-five minutes had passed, the doors of the courtroom swung open and The Defendant shuffled to his podium.
The Judge was furious. Hushed, nervous whispers could be heard from the jury. Banging his gavel, The Judge called for order and the courtroom fell silent once again. The Defendant carried with him no briefcase, no folder containing a legal defense. The Defendant, in an unprecedented decision fPost too long. Click here to view the full text.