I The Jury Book Novels & Stories

The courtroom tensed as the judge called for silence. "Has the jury reached a verdict?" the judge asked, his voice cutting through the silence. "We have, Your Honor," the foreman replied, standing with a slip of paper in hand. The judge nodded, gesturing for the verdict to be read. The courtroom held its breath as the foreman unfolded the paper and read aloud, "In the case of the murder of Mr. Johnson, we, the jury, find the defendants—guilty on all counts." A rush of emotion flooded the courtroom, murmurs of disbelief and sighs of relief intermingling. Sophia felt a tear slip down her cheek, not just from sorrow but also from the immense relief and satisfaction of justice served.

Clenching my fists, I fired back, "What evidence do you have to say that it's my mother who's trying to file a fraudulent claim?" Snorting, Gigi replied, "So what if we don't have any evidence of that? We're not here to prove your mother's guilt today." Frowning, the judge warned us to maintain order in court. When it was time to read the verdict, I felt as though my heart was being squeezed. Alas, Gigi was declared innocent due to insufficient evidence.

Suddenly, he turned around and looked straight at Benedict and Clarisse and smiled the most terrifying smile I'd ever seen. My heart leaped into my throat. 'No!' my head screamed. We couldn't let him go back with those kids! I was an adult and even I was terrified. How much more would those kids be? Oh my god! The judge and jury soon returned. "The jury have gone over the facts and evidences provided and have come to a decision. Can you confirm that this is the envelope holding your decision?" The judge asked. One of the jury members answered, "Yes it is."

The selection process of the jury had been going on during both the past two days, it involved twelve individuals who will be determining whether the actions of Vincent amounted to crimes worthy of punishment or his motivations merited him some form of forgiveness. She was Sarah Chen and I attempted to concentrate on what she was saying rather than nervousness growing in my own chest as I attempted to give her my introductory speech. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is a case of a man who made himself the law, and made himself a terrorist. Daniel Vanguard had wronged Vincent Cole. That is as much as is true and generally undisputed. But what Mr. Cole did in retaliation of that injustic

"They won't. You saw the evidence. You heard her confession." When the bailiff finally calls us back, my legs feel unsteady as we return to our seats. The jury files in with serious faces, avoiding eye contact with Victoria, and I know from every crime show I've ever watched that this is a good sign for us. "Has the jury reached a verdict?" Judge Ignatius asks. "We have, Your Honor," the foreman says, standing with a piece of paper in his hands. "On the count of attempted murder in the first degree, we find the defendant guilty. On the count of conspiracy to commit murder, guilty. On the count of terrorism, guilty."

But in the meantime, my nerves were still jittery as all hell. As soon as the jury returned we all turned our attention to them and awaited the verdict. “We the jury find the Defendant—Michael Kingston, guilty on all charges.” “What?! You cannot be serious! What the hell kind of bullshit evidence did he even show you?!” The judge hastily slammed the head of his gavel down on the corner of the bench.

“They’ve reached a verdict. Judge Morrison wants everyone in the courtroom in thirty minutes.” The courtroom was packed beyond capacity. Every eye on the jury box. Claudia sat at the defense table, perfectly composed. Sterling beside her, face unreadable. Adrian and Arabella sat behind the prosecution, hands clasped so tightly their fingers were white. Judge Morrison entered. “All rise.” Everyone stood. “Please be seated.” Morrison looked at the jury. “Has the jury reached a verdict?” The foreperson stood. Middle-aged woman, a librarian according to voir dire. She held a piece of paper.

The timestamp glows in the corner. Her head drops slightly at the table. The jury for her eventual trial will see this in high definition. I lean back, crossing one ankle over the other, still unreadable. Let her stew. Then comes the third exhibit. The moment my breath catches. “Your Honor, this is CCTV footage taken from a book antique cafe store in downtown. It shows the defendant physically assaulting Ms. Sinclair.” The screen fills with grainy video. And then — Jennifer running. The silence in the courtroom now is absolute. Not a cough, not a shuffle.

Bailiff door. “Court’s back in session,” bailiff said. Adrian didn’t move. Looked at his hands. Scarred. From tile. From life. “Adrian,” I said. “Don’t let them—” “I won’t,” Adrian said. Stood. Straightened his suit. “But the jury saw it. On their phones. During lunch. You can’t unsee ‘violent from birth.’” He walked in. Head high. 88 BPM. Calm. Killer calm.

James walked free, I did not know what I would do. The call came at three in the afternoon. "The jury has reached a verdict." I drove to the courthouse faster than I should have. Found Veronica and Four already seated in the courtroom. They looked terrified. The jury filed in. I tried to read their faces but they gave nothing away. "Has the jury reached a verdict?" The foreman stood. "We have, Your Honour." "On the charge of conspiracy to commit murder, how do you find?" "Guilty." Veronica gasped. Four closed his eyes.