No Escape

Chapter 1

"Order! Order in the court!" the surly judge snapped. A deadly silence fell over the courtroom. The tension grew in the air. The prosecutors, though trying to hide it, nervously stood there, arguing through whispers. The wooden chairs were filled with preoccupied, anxious people, the prosecutors and defense could only agree on the fact that this was not a civil, lawful session in process. The first prosecutor, a tall, impatient woman stared at the wooden floor pensively. She quietly straightened her black suit and looked back up. She cleared a stroke of hazel hair from her face and placed it behind her ear. She then stood up straight and crossed her arms while tapping

her foot, awaiting the judge's next words. The young, lanky prosecutor next to her was visibly shaking. His posture shrunk and his hands fidgeted. His pale complexion seemed to whiten from nervousness. He couldn't've been more than 25 years old. He seemed to be starting as a prosecutor. His apprehensive eyes observed the floor, his fellow prosecutor, and the judge who remained angered by the commotion that had occurred that day. Finally, the judge lifted her solemn gaze and addressed the jury.
"Are we going to keep it civil?" the judge said coolly. They all nodded. "Good. The prosecution continues"
"Thank you, your honor," the first prosecutor said, looking at her coworker and whispering something in

his ear, and continuing with her speech, "We sincerely apologize for the events that took place minutes ago. We understand that physical acts of violence and profanity have no place in a court of law. We were simply frustrated about this man's crimes. You understand the fear we hold as human beings when hardened criminals walk free."
"Objection, your honor," a sly voice interjected.
"Dammit, we're screwed," the first prosecutor whispered angrily.
"Why?" the second one whimpered.
"Because that's Ellie Maisie Rosenthal"
"Who's that?"

"Only the best defense attorney in the country"
"But he's guilty, isn't he?"
"You are so naive. That doesn't matter anymore"
They ended their conversation in whispers. The judge directed her gaze to the poised defense attorney. Ellie Maisie Rosenthal was the best defense attorney there was. Anyone who could get her as their attorney was guaranteed to be acquitted. She was a beautiful, tall, 30-year-old, brown-haired Yiddish-American from Connecticut. Her posture was straight like an arrow. Her hair was tied up in a perfect, stylish bun like that of a ballerina. She wore a tight Prussian blue skirt that touched her knees, she had a cerulean blue cape blazer and a

ruffled white shirt. She carried a pack of notebooks everywhere, each one a different color and purpose, and a collection of pens and pencils neatly organized on every surface she laid them on. She was a brilliant observer and debater. She locked her persuasive eyes with the grouchy judge.
"Sustained," the judge sighed.
"If I may your honor," Ellie Maisie began, "The fact that these prosecutors would label this innocent man as a hardened criminal negates the legal process this man is allowed by law. He is not a criminal, he is on trial for alleged criminal activity."
"Anything to add, madame prosecutor?" the judge asked.

"No," the first prosecutor said, lowering her head in embarrassment.
"If you or anyone in the jury wonders why I choose to violate the protocol for a case, it is because this is no longer a case. It is a madhouse," complained the judge, "Defense, go ahead"
"Thank you, your honor", Ellie Maisie spoke politely, "These accusations of embezzlement are complete buffoonery. The truth is that my client never had any contact with this money because this organization is a non-profit. The money never touched his account. The prosecution has provided insufficient evidence and therefore my client is not proven to be guilty. Not to mention the prosecution violently attacked my

client out of what they called 'frustration'. They also dare to call this innocent man a hardened criminal. A man whose life is dedicated to service to society. If you ask me, my client isn't the one who deserves legal problems."
"Was that a threat?" the first prosecutor groaned.
"It is my time to speak, madame prosecutor, unless I misheard the judge, which in that case gives you the right to waste more time inciting violence," Ellie Maisie said, as she watched the prosecutors shrink with embarrassment, "I now address my friends the prosecutors. Specifically the young man."
The second prosecutor's eyes widened. She nervously looked at the

first prosecutor for guidance or approval but was ignored.
"Why does she want to talk to me?" he whispered.
"You're the weak link. She's going to tear you to shreds" the first prosecutor smirked.
"And you won't do anything?"
"No."
"Anything to share with the rest of us?" Ellie Maisie asked.
"No," the young man gulped.
"Do you agree with your co-worker when she says that my client is a hardened criminal?"
"Uh. I- uh- I think my co-worker meant-"
"Do you agree with your co-worker?"

"I think she meant-"
"Perhaps we should use simpler vocabulary. Do you have opinions of your own on this case, or do you just follow your co-worker blindly?"
"I have thoughts!" the prosecutor shrieked.
"So he does speak," Ellie Maisie chortled, "And what does he say?"
"Um- I believe that white-collar crimes are still crimes and should be treated as such"
"Are you suggesting discrimination?"
"No! No!"
"You understand that was ruled unconstitutional by the court of law ages ago"

"I was not suggesting discrimination, I was just trying to iterate that this man is guilty of white-collar crimes"
"Where's the evidence?"
"What?"
"The evidence"
"Money was found missing and-"
"I know the case, I've read it, maybe you ought to too. Where is the evidence that links it to my client?"
"Your client had access to the account"
"So did the seven other people who ran the non-profit. Why is my client on trial?"
"Money went missing"

"So you blame this man though you have no conclusive evidence"
"You have to acknowledge that money went missing"
"I know, it's your favorite phrase. The money went missing and you can't link that to my client. I'm not here to explain to you who stole the money, I'm here to prove to you that this man didn't. You are a prosecutor. There are literal detectives here. Put your brains together and figure out who did steal the money. Ultimately this man is innocent and was put on trial. You have caused great harm to my client's life. Mr. Prosecutor, do you know what your mistake was?"
"My mistake?"

"Yes. You'd think after this enlightening conversation you would have paid attention to what I was telling you. I pity your college teachers. What was your mistake?"
"I just did my job. I'm a prosecutor and-"
"Yet you can't figure this simple thing out. You made two mistakes. You went after a man though you had insufficient evidence, and you challenged me. I'd think twice about that next time. No further questions."
"It has become clear to me that the prosecutors and detectives brought this case before me to waste my time," the judge grumbled, "The court finds the defendant not guilty. Case dismissed."

The judge slammed her gavel and the case was over. A wave of relief washed over the defendant. Ellie Maisie grabbed her leather messenger bag and began putting her notebooks and pens in. She kept noticing the face of the second prosecutor. She observed his petrified face and his confusion. The first prosecutor approached her.
"You know Rosenthal, I find your profession unethical and disagree with everything you do, but I respect the hell out of you."
"Same goes for you."
Ellie Maisie nodded her head politely and began heading out the doors of the courtroom. She had to leave quickly and arrive at the hotel room to pack up her things. She needed to be on the flight home

to Hartford, where she'd spend a night in her apartment and then drive to Woodbridge to visit her brother and childhood home. As she walked out of the building and into the busy streets of Chicago, she crossed paths with the second defense attorney.
"Hey kid!" she yelled, "It's not personal"
"It seemed personal," he mumbled.
"You are a prosecutor. You're gonna deal with hundreds of attorneys a day who are worse than I am. I'm doing you a favor," she said before catching a taxi and speeding off to her hotel room.