Ethan sat down on an uncomfortable, hard chair behind a well-varnished wooden table. He was dressed in a black suit and a red tie. The room he sat in was packed with people. Above the seating place was a widescreen with several spectators joining in online. The judge who was an elderly man with gloomy, tired eyes, sat beside Ethan on a raised platform.

“Ethan,” began the lawyer in front of him as she turned to his table. “You were present at the site of the alleged murder of Wesley Cid at the residence of Mr. Markson only three days ago, were you not?”

“Yes, I was,” replied Ethan cordially.

“And you were, from what I gathered, attempting to stop the alleged murder from taking place?”

“Yes, I ran towards Mr. Cid as he was conversing with Mr. Starkson when I saw the latter draw his pistol and aim it at Mr. Cid,” stated Ethan.

The lawyer paced the floor of the courtroom. She was known to have never lost a case before, but this wasn’t a case any lawyer could wiggle their way out of. Wesley’s killing was murder, and any sane man would see that. Ethan was more shocked than angry at the prospect of having a court case to determine if killing someone is punishable or not. Wesley was innocent in Ethan’s mind and the rich snob sitting on the other side of the judge was guilty.

“Is it true, Mr. Rider, that Mr. Cid was trespassing on the walkway of the owner?” she asked leaning forward with a slight grin.

“If by trespassing you mean asking for some food, then he was. But even if he was, it was grounds for non-lethal self-defense. It didn’t warr-”

“Please do not educate a court of law on the constitution. You’ve answered the question and that is all you are required to do,” the elderly judge said stamping his gavel on the desk so hard it made the wood vibrate and startled the entire room.

Ethan clenched his fists underneath the table and forced his mouth to stay shut. He curtly nodded apologetically to the lawyer and the judge in front of him. Ethan had hired a lawyer to represent the pauper’s family in court and he had made a good case for the conviction of Marksman. However, the quality of the court was not the best.

The marksman had killed a man for stepping on his premise and while that was allowed, it was only allowed in the case of self-defense. Wesley had done nothing to attack the man and thus constituted murder.

The woman walked across to Marksman, “Sir, you were the one who pulled the trigger. Why did you do so?”

The man took a deep breath as if pretending to compose himself. Ethan rolled his eyes at his blatant act. The murderer playing the victim card? Guess things haven’t changed at all these past years…

“I had no intention of killing him at first. He came knocking on my door looking for food and I told him I had none to give him. He peeked into my house at my wife and kids without my consent and stayed rooted to the spot. If his motives were merely to get some food, he would have left when I told him to,” the man said as his voice tremored.

“And you took this as a threat?” she asked.

“No, the threat was Mr. Rider, in fact.”

What?! I, a man who tried to save that poor man from your cruel ass, provoked you? What kind of sick-minded person are you? Ethan cursed.

“Mr. Rider darted towards my property with his hands clenched in fists. He made direct eye contact with me and never broke off the attack despite me drawing my weapon. I would not kill him because he wasn’t on my property…” He cracked a slight grin and darted his eyes over to me. “I would never disrespect the justice of the law. I obeyed it by the letter. In fact, I let him go simply because of that fact alone.”

Ethan’s blood boiled with rage, “Bullshit! You were going to kill him anyway, you putrid bastard!” yelled Ethan rising to his feet. The man calmly folded his arms in silence making Ethan look like an emotional trainwreck in front of the entire court.

“Order!” boomed the judge. That was the loudest his monotonous voice was and woke the people who had fallen asleep in the court.

Marksman’s tone turned soft and sympathetic, his sinister words rolling off his tongue. “I have been a four-time victim of break-ins and lootings. My wife and child have nearly been killed. I made a call before it was too late. Every man in this residence who lives or has lived on that street knows how often we see such acts take place.”

“With the sensitive times we live in, it is government policy that people of vastly different social status do not mingle with each other for fear of this very crime occurring,” the lawyer began. “My client is a victim of several break-ins that have happened due to his lack of action. For fear of his family’s safety, he took action and perhaps avoided the fifth looting. No further questions, your honor.”

Ethan blinked twice, unable to believe both his eyes and his ears. He was waiting for his alarm clock to ring any moment now so he could wake up from this nightmare. How the hell is the murderer the victim?

At that moment, a tall broad-shouldered man from the audience abruptly stood up and stormed out of the court slamming the door shut on his way out. Ethan had seen him glare at Marksman for the entirety of the session. His eyes were cold and filled with hate. He seemed to be the only person in the room to share the anger Ethan had which somehow comforted Ethan. He wasn’t the only sane person in the room.

The rest of the case was a blur to Ethan as the judge hastened to a judgment, eager to relieve himself of duty. It was as if he had seen thousands of cases like these and they all were met with the same verdict.

“As a judge, I am told to uphold the scales of justice inside and outside of this room,” the judge began. His voice was on the verge of a mumble as his eyes began to close. It was as if he was reading from a script, he had read hundreds of times. “Due to the lower class of workers being primary causes for the damages on the economy during the war, the government has placed restraints upon those areas. Mr. Cid had directly violated those restrictions by trespassing on Mr. Marksman’s property. As such, I hereby declare Mr. Marksman as innocent.”

He stamps his gavel on the table half-heartedly and leaves the building twice as quickly as he entered. Most of the crowd left as if they’d just seen a terrible film and were awaiting its credits.

It was as if the world simply didn’t care for the disadvantaged due to the war. Money really can buy anything…and anyone, Ethan pondered as he dragged his feet out of the room in defeat.

“You tried your best, young man,” muttered a crippled old man with a walking stick. He walked up to Ethan and extended his hand upwards to pat Ethan on the shoulder.

“I’m going to escalate this to the main court. If they can see the kind of bullshit that happened here, they wouldn’t just deem Marksm-”

“Stop, kid,” the man chuckled with an undertone of sadness. “I’ve been in many of these cases. I’ve watched people escalate this. It never works. The court looks at this kind of case and dismisses them because they have bigger fish to fry.”

“Bigger than murder?”

“It’s not about what the crime is, it’s about who committed it and who it was committed against,” the old man corrected shaking his head. “And let’s be honest with ourselves here. The murder of a celebrity, an influencer, or a businessman is far more important in their eyes than a man like my son.”

Ethan’s eyes widened briefly with realization, “You’re his father?”

The man nodded solemnly, his eyes becoming misty. His hands began to shake at the mention of his son.

Ethan lowered himself to one knee in an instant and bowed his head as the guilt he thought he never had escaped his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cid. I’m so sorry…” Ethan whispered. “I sh-sh-should have never intervened. Maybe Wesley would have been alive if I didn’t run like an idiot towards that bastard! I understand if you hate me. If y-you want to kill me for vengeance. Please…Please…Please…” Ethan was lost for words. His mouth was wide open, but his voice had vanished. “Do it… Make me pay my penance…” Ethan said as he revealed a gun from his holster and handed it to the man.

The crippled man took the gun from Ethan’s hand and tossed it with the little force he had aside. The sound of the gunmetal hitting the floor echoed through the deserted building.

“It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare think it is. It’s Marksman who killed my little boy.”

Ethan looked up with his face wet with tears. The man returned Ethan’s puzzled look with a tender smile as a tear ran down his wrinkled face. He asked for Ethan to rise to his feet. He gazed at his own hands as he mustered all the strength, he had to clench them into fists.

“Let me give you some advice, son. Words don’t bring justice; actions do. I prayed every day for a long, healthy life. But I would’ve never wished for such a thing if it meant burying my own son. ”