J is for Justice
The jury ambled back into the room, sitting solidly on their bench. There were twelve, only twelve and all eyes were drawn to them. Not the lawyers, not anymore; not even the killer who would soon be set free. A technicality, the defender had called it, technically it was, but it changed everything, as the hidden smile on the murderer’s face showed.
The killer had an alibi. His wife swore she was with him the whole night. How can you convict a man like that?
Simple. You couldn’t.
The head juror rose. “We, the jury, find the defendant.” There was a hush as the room as a whole bent forward to hear. “Not-guilty.”
No one was smiling, no one but the woman in the back, the woman with the gun, the woman who walked up to the killer and became a killer herself.
As the man lay dying she whispered in her husband’s ear, “Next time you might want to kill your mistress in a state that has the death penalty.”