Justice

Why are the innocent dead and the guilty alive?

Nate wondered this on Day 4 of the trial.

He was doing jury service for the first time and he was watching a frankly awful case play out.

The man in the dock had murdered three children, seemingly in cold blood. He had a fantastic lawyer and it was starting to look more and more like he was going to get away with it.

“I don’t think he did it.”

“He’s been set up.”

These were the kind of comments that had been made as the jury ate lunch the previous day.

Well, enough was enough. There was going to be justice.

The murderer was smiling, so damn sure of himself.

Nate stood and pulled a gun from the waistband of his slacks.

The courtroom was silenced. How had he got it past the metal detector?

He pointed it at the murder and sent the man’s brains showering over his lawyer.

Nate knew his number was up now. He’d just murdered a murderer in front of fifty witnesses and while he was certain he’d done the right thing, he knew he’d go away for a very long time because of it.

He pointed the gone at his own head. “Sorry,” he whispered and then it went black.