"How does the defendant plead?"
"Not guilty."
Well. You'd think I'd have started WWIII, with the horrified gasps that fill the courtroom.
I smirk and sit back in my chair as the stunned parents, witnesses, and general public share shocked whispers, glaring at me like I'm Public Enemy No. 1. Some of the children look bored, others shocked. Some look at me, as if for reassurance, but their parents soon move to block their view, glaring daggers at me. My smirk widens and I blow them an insolent little kiss, waggling my eyebrows.
Truth be told, I'm having a rather delightful time. Well, apart from the fact I'm currently a prisoner, but let's not split hairs.
The uproar eventually dies down, and my barrister resumes his dropped dialogue. "We'd like to move for an immediate dismissal of all charges," he says. "My client has committed no wrongdoing, and quite frankly, these trumped up charges are bogus."
"Your client is a pedophile!" one of the mothers screams, holding her daughter crushed to her chest. The poor girl looks likes she's being smothered to death, and her arms move feebly as she tries to dislodge her mother's clinging grasp.
I suppose there are worse ways to go than being crushed to death against your mother's DDDD tits.
"They're children!' another mother yells. "How can you sit there and defend that? He molested them, right under our very noses!"
I call it loving attention none of them got from you.
"Pedophiles are the scum of the earth!" yet another parent shouts. It's one of the dads, puffed up and bristling.
Ah yes. Now you give a dusty fuck about your son.
"They're traumatised for life!"
"How can he do this?"
"He's scarred them forever!"
And so on.
The judge finally gets the fracas to settle down. "And why are you insisting on this dismissal?" she asks in a too-calm voice.
"The children have been coached," my barrister replies. "They were all consenting to the acts, and their victim impact statements are, well, carbon copies of each other. In essence, they all run to the same script. 'He touched me in my private place.' 'I was too scared to say no.' 'I let him touch me to make him happy.' 'He told me it was normal for adults to love children this way.' 'He told me to keep it a secret.' And so it goes on. I doubt their testimonies are going to be any different, so we might as well just skip them."
That naturally starts the fracas again, but the judge puts a swift stop to it. "The trial will proceed," she says, her voice now cold enough to permanently snuff out the world's active volcanoes. "Your client needs to face the music for what he's done. I intend to give these poor children their day in court, and I will see justice served. Do I make myself clear? Otherwise you can excuse yourself, and I'll have a neutral barrister appointed."
My barrister grits his teeth, but wisely capitulates. I sigh as he sits back down. "You did your best," I murmur to him. "It's not your fault these people are narrow minded cu--"
"Is there something you'd like to share with us?" the judge asks, her glare now transferred to me.
I incline my head. "Not at all," I say.
"Then you can stay silent until addressed directly," the judge says. "Any further outbursts, and you can also be excused."
I choose the higher ground and wisely keep my mouth shut. Stupid, dried up old hag. You clearly never had a man touch that dusty dried up cavern you call a vagina, and it shows!
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