The Verdict

The one thing I know about the past is that right and wrong only depend on who is telling the story. I had told my side of the story and in my story, I was right. But that didn't matter. The state had told their side of the story as well. In their story I was wrong.

I guess that just means there's no right or wrong. I'm not a smart man. I just know I had to do what I had to do to keep on living. I can look back at the past and regret it all day but that doesn't do me any good now. I try to think about the future, what I'll have for dinner tonight, the results of the playoffs games.

All that is out of my hands now. It all rests on the jury's shoulders. 12 honest men, that's what they say. It's not like any of them have never done anything wrong. A jury of my peers, bullshit. None of these people look like me. None of these people are the same age as me. This whole fucking justice system is corrupt. They lead man to slaughter and call it justice.

My lawyer keeps whispering to me about how there's nothing to worry about. Fuck that, he's paid by the state the same as the prosecution. He's got 46 other cases he's working and has confused me with other clients at least three times. How could I expect him to win this case for me? I'm going to jail, I know it. I hope I can kiss my wife, and hold my child again. I'm going to miss her first steps, her first words. This is so fucked up.

The jury files into the courtroom and the judge asks about a verdict. I close my eyes afraid of what I might hear. I say a brief prayer for a hung jury instead of a guilty verdict. I did the same thing anyone else did to make sure they went home to their family that night.

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