Romans & histoires Criminal Minds To Bear Witness

“I don't want to go to prison. Gregor killed those people himself. I don't want to be punished for it.” I turned back to him, an evil smirk on my face. “You won't be punished for murder,” I replied coldly. “But you will be punished for all your crimes.” “What! That wasn't our deal. I committed no crimes!” Bear shouted out of fear. “You confessed already. You said you would beat up the victims and leave them almost dead. All Gregor did was end their life, you were the one who made them powerless, unable to defend themselves,” I told him furiously.

"Fair enough. So tell me, since you studied all type of qualifications to do with human psychology, when someone tells you how they plan to kill someone else, what do you do?" "I listen. When they are done saying what they felt, I given them my view. I'm not responsible for what you are going to do when you leave my room." "I hear you." He sighed, "Funny how... you know what, no further questions." ""Any witness from the defendent?" "No, my lord. I'll pass." "My lord, we shouldn't forget who we have on trial and what he is capable of doing. We have Mastermind, a thug trapped in a child's body. The only 17year old to have encountered several charges, from murder, rape, human trafficking, drug

A phone vibrated against the console, and the man in the driver's seat answered it without looking at the screen. "It's done," he said. A distorted, mechanical voice replied from the other end. "And the witness?" "There was one," Damien admitted, staring out the tinted windshield. A sharp silence followed before the caller spoke again. "You handled it?" "I did." "You killed her?" Damien paused, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "...No." The silence on the line grew noticeably heavier. "You left a witness alive?" "She's blind," Damien said, his voice entirely flat. "She never saw me."

“Your honor, my client truly felt that he was helping these women conquer their innermost demons. He sacrificed his time and knowledge to solve their problems. I believe he was wrongly accused of these crimes and misunderstood. What you have to ask yourself is why. Why would my client want to separate these women from their families? Unless he truly believed that they were unsafe and dangerous. Should he be punished for doing his job? If that is true then why don't we let out all the criminals. Because they must not be sick right? Your honor, what we are going to do is prove that my client was just doing his job.” “Prosecution's your opening statement.” “Time, it seems so fleeting. Until it'

I cocked an eyebrow, “No alibi?” “Didn’t think I would need one.” he stated. “And yet three separate witnesses saw you at the scene of the crime.” He shrugged “Three people...who all happens to be my enemies, two of whom have criminal records and the third runs a bakery I didn’t renew a contract with, do you really think they are reliable?” I clenched my jaw. “So you mean they are all lying.” I questioned. “You tell me, Counselor.”he leaned in, his voice dropping just enough for only me to hear “You seem real invested in sending me to jail what’s this really about, hmm? Your job or that little crush you have hard since I walked in?”

Allowing me to do what I pleased with her body. It screwed with my mind to the point of no fucking return. I hated the way that shit played out tonight. Hell, she probably hated me now. I’d be surprised if she fucking didn’t. I knew that there was only one way to deal with witnesses… And that was by killing them. It was the rules of the fucking Mafia. But as I stared at her, took all of her in, and recounted everything that had happened between us tonight… I knew that I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to fucking do it.

I let out a heavy sigh as I listen to the repetitive questioning Heartwell moves through with his witnesses. All of them have a different story about how they think I am a criminal, but none of them has proof. How can the jury stand to listen to this for so long, when there is no definite incriminating evidence against me? It is a wonder how they even brought this case to court.

Records. Cold. Precise. Unfiltered. She gasped, clutching her chest. “They marked her because she organized food lines. They said it increased resilience.” A man shouted, “That’s murder!” The witness stilled. The word hung there, heavy, undefined. Above, alarms spiked. ‘Witness exposure escalating,’ a presence reported. ‘Human emotional interpretation mapping onto observer function.’ The Audit’s voice sharpened. ‘Intervene.’ ‘How?’ Another pause. Liora stepped forward, hands shaking. “Stop.”

“The police are still looking for the one who did this to you.” I looked up and saw him staring at me. “Hm, but I’m scared that the criminal might try to hurt Miles.” I was a lawyer, and so was Dylan. We were used to thinking about things from every possible angle, to understand the reasons behind them, what happened, and why. Criminals could act either out of conviction or provocation. The hardest ones to deal with were those who acted out of conviction, because they usually had a lot of information. And it wasn’t impossible that whoever did this to me already knew about Miles, and could use that to hurt me. The thought terrified me.

“Not just men with guns. Men with pens. Men with stamps. Men who call theft regulation and sleep well and sound after.” He was right. Of course he was right. The worst criminals file reports. They nod at cameras. They shake hands that smell like lavender hand soap and someone’s quiet ruin. “So you tell the truth now and here,” I said, “in front of these relics of better days and this chandelier that needs polishing, and that makes us what? Safe? From them? You, of all people, suddenly believe in witness protection or something?” “It makes things straight, that’s all,” he said. “I think it’s a good place to start peace talks.”