The Mystery of Ariella

One: The Trial and the Voice

Trials and Illusions

One

      “I swear, I swear I didn’t do it.” Her voice was uncertain, carefully picking the correct tone for each word. Every little sound etched in her head. The fly, the judges tapping foot, and even the soft sound of music from a teenager’s ear buds across the room.

      “Well, I’m sorry to say that your fingerprints were left at the crime.”

      “NO!” Tears were now streaming down her face, and she pounded her fists against the table so hard that they bled. “He did it. I saw him!”

      “What did he look like, Ariella?” His face sported a fake concern.

      “I don’t know, he came from nowhere,” her words muffled by the tears running off her lip into her mouth. “He took my family away.”

      “Please, your honor, can’t you see she’s in distress? Her parents were murdered right in front of her.”

      Maybe this helped, but nobody could pay attention to him. They were all focused on the girl with jet-black hair, whose eyes were bluer than the sky and water combined.

      “Maybe she did it, the evidence-“

      “The evidence does not cover this! Have you ever thought of the possibility of the murderer using her fingerprints to cover his own?”

      Everyone was paying attention now. They watched as the judge rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Why don’t we see what the other party has to say?”

       A short, stocky woman stood up from the table.

      "Your honor, there is doubt that my niece killed my sister and her husband. When Ariella was five, she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. Since then, her condition has grown worse. My dumb sibling called it off as an imaginary friend, something that every child has. She didn't realize that this 'imaginary friend' would tell her to beat up a neighborhood boy, or to rob her classroom of books. I would be surprised if she wasn't a suspect."

      The jury started whispering. She had made a good point. Ariella is diagnosed with all sorts of crazy.

      “Your honor,” Ariella’s attorney spoke up, leaving her aunt open-mouthed.

      “I did not give you permission to speak, Mr. Warren,” the judge said lamely, pushing up the sleeves of his suit.

      “I know, sir…” her attorney continued, “but do you think it’s a little odd there are no records of Ariella’s mental illness. Not once have I found her diagnosis of schizophrenia. Does that not seem odd?” The attorney sat, satisfied with his statement. The judge paused to ponder about the two sides while taping his pen rhythmically on the hardwood.

      “Well…” he started. “That is odd. Mrs. Lynch, where did you receive your information?”

      She stood flustered. Her body was stiff, resembling a board. “What do you mean, there were no records? I was with her when she got diagnosed!”

       The judge nodded with disbelief. “But there’s no evidence at the moment to prove that you were with her, now is there.” He shuffled his stack of papers while peeking over the room of his glasses to see her.

      “Look, my sister was a weird woman. She studied ancient and other silly junk. She called Ariella’s voice guardian angels, for Pete’s sake. She probably got rid of the records, just because she didn’t think it was anything serious. Well, just look where she is now.” Mrs. Lynch flailed her arms desperately, trying to get him to understand what she was saying to him.