Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The World Out There - 15. Fifteen
The last day of his trail was made up only of speeches. First went Mr Spencer. The man stood up and addressed the jury, talking straight to them. Liam didn’t want to stare at the man but Mr Spencer’s good looks kept pulling his eyes back to him.
Mr Spencer told the jury how Liam had deliberately taken a knife to school with the sole purpose of hunting down Rhys Clarke. He then claimed that Liam killed Rhys Clarke in a vicious and sustained attack, that he showed no remorse for. Mr Spencer claimed that Liam’s behaviour was part of the “knife crime plague” sweeping the country, and that the jury had to find him guilty to send a message that this kind of crime was unacceptable.
Liam stared down at his feet as the man’s final words filled the courtroom. Mr Spencer’s description was of somebody else, not him, and yet Mr Spencer was allowed to say all those things and in court. How could he say all those untrue things? Weren’t they supposed to only tell the truth here? Liam didn’t know what to do, so he just stared down at his feet and hoped for Mr Spencer’s words to stop.
Mrs Stewart-Graham had spoken next. She stood up and in a clear voice told the jury that there was no doubt that Liam had committed this terrible crime but no one asked why. She then talked how Liam was a quiet boy who had never been in trouble before, about a “taunt relationship” between him and Rhys Clarke, that Rhys Clarke was “no innocent victim”, that there were so many things not discussed here. She seemed to be hinting at so much, why couldn’t she say it? Why didn’t she say it? She ended by telling the jury that he was thirteen with his whole life ahead of him. That was true but it seemed his life had also already ended, it was all over now, and it was all his fault.
Lastly the judge addressed the jury. He remaining seated but lent forward and seemed to fix his eyes on the jury, one person at a time. He told them, in great detail, how Liam had killed Rhys Clarke, how many times he had stabbed Clarke and even the depth of some of the stab wounds. Liam again stared down at his feet and tried to block out the man’s words. He didn’t need to relive his killing of Clarke, he couldn’t forget it because he relived it each night in his nightmares.
The judge continued about how there was no doubt that he killed Rhys Clarke but what the jury had to do was decide why he killed Clarke. The prosecution had presented evidence that Liam sort out Clarke, armed with a knife. The defence did not present any other reason for his attack and Liam himself had not given evidence, which was his right, though the judge’s tone was that Liam shouldn’t have done that. Liam had done what Mrs Stewart-Graham said, she was in-charge, she was a barrister.
For his last statement, the judge told the jury that they had to decide whether Liam was guilty of manslaughter or murder, but the tone of the man’s voice made it clear what choice he’d make. The judge then “dismissed the jury”, sending them out of the courtroom to come to their decision, to decide on their verdict. With that his trial seemed to be over for that day.
The two guards had taken him out of the courtroom, via the narrow staircase that led directly from The Dock, down into the basement of the building. There they quickly led him to the walled courtyard where the prison van was waiting for him. Also waiting there was the crowd of people, on the other side of the metal gates, shouting angrily at him. He didn’t look at them as he was led into the back of the van. It was the way he had quickly learnt to deal with those people, to keep his head down and not look in their direction. They were there every day he was brought to the Crown Court, shouting and banging on the side of the van, then crowding against the closed gates when he was taken out of the van and into the building. There were usually more people in the morning, shouting louder and threatening him more, in the afternoon, as he left the Crown Court, there always seemed less of them, at least their shouting wasn’t as loud. That day there seemed just as many in the afternoon as there was that morning.
As he sat down on the metal seat, locked away into that tiny cubicle in the back of the van, careful to keep his feet away from that grate in the floor, he lent his back against the metal wall and closed his eyes, but his mind was racing and no peace come to him. Why did those people out there hate him so much? Why did they gather outside of the Crown Court to shout their hate at him? How did they even know about him? For all his life, so far, he had been a no-body, people just ignored him and he’d slipped into the shadows unnoticed. Part of him had enjoyed it, going unnoticed and uncared about, people didn’t fuss over what he did. Part of him, though, longed for people to notice him, if just once, for him to be the centre of attention. He would day-dream about people turning their attention onto him. He had never day-dreamed that when he would finally be the centre of attention it would be a crowd of people shouting for his blood.
As the van pulled out of the courtyard, those people again banged on the outside of it, shouting loudly their hate, and Liam pushed his body as far away from the van’s wall as possible, in that tiny cubicle.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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