A Just Cause.

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

I dreaded the hour I would be transported from this holding cell to the courtroom to see what my fate would present to me. I hadn't slept in more than a day, and by now, the tiredness had turned into anticipation. I was sweating bullets once again, constantly thinking of more and more possibilities.

As my court-appointed attorney had advised, I needed to maintain a calm and composed demeanor throughout the trial, and deep down, I knew that revealing the truth was not an option. It was my word against theirs, and I was far too skilled at weaving a web of deception to let the truth slip through my fingers.

The thought of my father comes into my mind, making me wonder how the world outside was moving on while I remained trapped in my mind, with my twisted thoughts as my only company. Although I was scared and nervous, the anticipation of the trial fed my dark excitement, a part of me that was buried deep down. I looked forward to the chaos I would sow during the proceedings.

A different officer from last time walks in front of the cell, knocking on the bars with his baton.

CLINK! CLINK!

"Get up, Armstrong, we've all been waiting for this!" he yells while avoiding eye contact with me.

"You're in for a surprise, officer," I whispered to him as I held both of my hands out, waiting for him to place the handcuffs on my wrists. I could see that made him feel uneasy. He tightens the cuffs hard and signals for me to follow him.

The courtroom loomed ahead like a stage, and I was the master of ceremonies, ready to perform a macabre symphony of deception. I would sometimes think of myself as a supervillain in those stupid heroic movies.

I walk inside the courtroom through the large wooden doors and feel countless eyes glaring upon me. It looked as if the whole station had come to watch. Made sense.

I scanned the faces of the jury, the spectators, and the prosecution, sizing them up like prey. They had no idea what awaited them, and I intended to keep it that way. I took my place at the defendant's table, my demeanor composed, eliminating any emotions that might give me away.

I noticed a clear plastic bag sitting on a table placed in front of the stage. I knew I had already won. I continue to walk to my seat, barely able to hold in my smirk. Just like the original suspects, I wasn't going to be able to put some real dirt on their names unless I had some hard evidence. This was why I made sure to keep the biggest weapon of all, which was the evidence itself. With the exact blade I used to murder the high school student, I had the most power in this whole investigation.

As I got closer to the stage, I saw the blade that I had been wishing to see. It brings the most reassuring feeling I have ever felt, sending a warm cozy feeling to my spine. The bag was mostly clear, except for the parts of it that would be completely white that were meant to be written on. I squinted my eyes, trying my best to read the tiny lettering on the bag, and was able to spell out Sarge's name. "Evelyn Wood" was what was written in thick black Sharpie. I let out a deep sigh, slowly turning my head towards my attorney, when I was met with a comforting smile.

As the trial progressed, my resolve to keep the truth hidden grew stronger. The fear of being labeled a psychopath, a killer, was too overwhelming to bear. The fact was that before I had called the police on myself for the murder of Sarge, I had planted the knife I had used for the high school homicide in a part of her car that would never trail back into my hands. In the beginning, I was just simply going to rip apart the driver-side door panels and place the blade somewhere in there for the forensics team to discover. However, I had an even more compelling idea to place a couple of Sarge's fingerprints on the handle of the knife, just to be sure.

Throughout the entire case, my attorney presented a compelling defense, exploiting the inconsistencies in the prosecution's case. He painted a picture of self-defense, arguing that I had been cornered and had no other option but to protect myself. And with the evidence right there, there was no denying that Sarge was in the wrong. As the trial reached its conclusion, the jury deliberated, and the anticipation was suffocating. It seemed like an eternity before the verdict was announced.

"We find the defendant, Charlie Armstrong, not guilty."

The words washed over me, relief mingling with guilt and the knowledge that I had escaped the consequences of my actions. I walked out of the courtroom a free man, but the memories within me remained as a constant reminder of the choices I had made.