The Trial

"Order in the court!" the bailiff cried out.

The noise died down. The spectators did not want to be put out of court. Today would be the final day of trial. They wanted to know what would happen.

Andrew sat still. He did not seem to register all the people in the courtroom. His expression was blank. He stole a few looks at his mother, who sat on the first row, crying.

The judge was looking at his notes. The jury had gone out to deliberate five hours ago. They had notified the judge that they had reached a decision a few minutes earlier.

Now, as silence reigned, the judge finally looked up.

"Would the accused please stand?"

The words came to Andrew as though he was in a dream. He stood slowly. He could feel the bars of the witness stand between his fingers, smooth and cold. The judge seemed to be talking very slowly. Andrew took another look at his mother. She was crying again.

The judge stared at Andrew for a few moments, then looked at the jury.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, do you have a verdict?"

The head juror stood up. He fidgeted a little with his tie, then said ponderously, "Yes, Your Honor. We have a verdict."

"Is the verdict unanimous?" the judge asked.

"Yes, Your Honor," the head juror said.

"Do you find Andrew Alexander Graham guilty or not guilty of first-degree murder?"

"Guilty, Your Honor."

Pandemonium broke out. Although the verdict was expected, the confirmation still shocked a lot of people. The judge knocked his gavel again threateningly. They began to whisper among themselves again.

Andrew did not hear their voices. The words of the head juror seemed to echo around him, "Guilty... guilty... guilty..." Well, he had expected that, had he not? He had been found holding the knife over his father's body. What had they been expected to think?

The judge was banging on his gavel. He shouted out, "Order! Or I'll clear the court!"

The noise began to die down. The judge took another look at Andrew. This time, he did not hide the look of pure disgust on his face.

"Andrew Alexander Graham, you are hereby found guilty of the death of Arthur George Graham, at his residence on the night of the 20th of March. You are sentenced to death by hanging...."

He stopped suddenly. A loud wail interrupted him. He glanced impatiently at Mrs. Graham. She was sitting with her mouth opened, looking around the courtroom. It was not her. Who was wailing?

The judge took one quick look at the spectators. None of them were wailing. He glanced next at the jurors. They looked as surprised as he was. He looked everywhere. No one seemed to be wailing. Where did the noise come from?

The wailing stopped suddenly. A voice came, clear and strong, echoing around the courtroom, "He's not guilty, you know."

Andrew jumped. He knew that voice! Mrs. Graham fainted. Andrew looked around the room, frightened.

"Dad?" he whispered.

The voice continued conversationally, "You're wrong, the whole lot of you. Andrew didn't kill me. My wife did. It's Mary you should be locking up."

The lights of the courtroom dimmed suddenly. The judge tried to say something, but no sound came. He opened and shut his mouth. Some of the spectators began to panic. An old man began to shout. A woman ran from her place suddenly, screaming hysterically. She tried to open the door. It appeared to be stuck.

The voice came again, loudly over the screams and shouts. "You at the door, you can stop trying. None of you will leave this room until I'm ready to let you leave. Now, then, maybe you'd be quiet while I tell you about my death."

The room began to quiet down slowly. The voice hummed all the while, waiting for complete silence. Finally, it continued, "Now, as you've all already guessed, I'm Arthur Graham. My wife was angry with me - she wanted to hold a party for her birthday. I'd promised her a party earlier. I lost the money for it at the gambling tables, however. I told her we didn't have the money. In a fit of anger, she took up a knife and buried it into my chest."

There was a short pause. The room was silent. The occupants appeared fascinated by what the voice was saying.

It continued suddenly, "Andrew came in just as I fell. He took one look and cried out. My wife fled up the stairs. Andrew took the knife from my chest. The butler came in then. Andrew didn't want to say that his mother had killed his father. The rest, you know. Are you going to find him guilty?"

The question seemed to be aimed at the jurors. They all shook their heads quickly.

"Well, judge, can you let my son go then, and arrest my wife for manslaughter instead?"

The judge nodded quickly. He gestured quickly to the bailiff, who went to let Andrew out with a shaking hand.

"Very well, then, you may all go."

The doors burst open. All the occupants of the room were struck dumb for a moment. Then, they rushed to the doors. The room emptied in a few moments, leaving only Mrs. Graham, who was still on the floor.

Andrew looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered.