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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Character Based
- Published: 07/20/2022
The Witness
Born 1947, M, from Germantown/Ohio, United StatesJury duty? My uncle told me about it, and I didn’t want it. But here it was. and I was on the jury. Would the defendant be someone that would go after my family? How does this process really work ….. or does it even work at all? Our legal system can be a mess. Is it less about finding the truth and more about winning and losing? Here I was, right in the middle of it about to find out.
My uncle said he was a friend of his named Georgio ….. something or other. His attorney knew he was innocent, the prosecution knew he was innocent, the judge knew he was innocent ….. but the jury found him guilty. So, twelve people with no legal background and education, a host of personal biases, mountains of inadmissible evidence to ignore, took five minutes of jury instruction and produced a verdict. How could I subject myself to that? Well I had no choice.
The first day of the trial held nothing special. The incident happened five years ago, and it took this long to get to trial due to continuances, motions, filings, and other complications. The defendant was about my age and accused of manslaughter of a young woman at the party. How many parties had I been to with people like this? Way too many, but I never remember anything like this happening. Of course, who remembers much of anything about these parties? It all boiled down to whether I scored or not ….. now that was memorable.
The prosecution had circumstantial evidence about the defendant’s actions that night. A neighbor’s surveillance camera showed the defendant’s car was parked on the street about the time they thought the girl was killed. Some people testified that he was at the party about that time. But, the prosecution seemed to lack any sort of smoking gun, forensic evidence, a confession, an eyewitness, or any other compelling evidence. The defendant was not helping his case. He seemed to refuse taking the measure to look clean cut and seemed to look around too much making odd gestures. You could see his attorneys trying to keep his actions in order.
And then the prosecution played their hopeful hole card. They did have one key witness with some blockbuster testimony about the defendant confessing to her what he had done that night. A witness that had known the defendant for years and was a confidant. The big problem was this witness had a record, a long record of criminal activity and had done time for small robberies and some drug use. She was at the party, but could she be believed? It would be up to the jury. The typical jury of nonlegal eagles, unchecked biases, limited intelligence, and well ….. questionable competence to manage the situation.
The witness was beautiful and cast a flirting eye on the men in the jury working in the occasional leg cross, and mysterious smile. She carried herself well through the prosecution softball questioning. I could not see her well from my position in the jury box but could easily tell what she was doing and how she was acting.
She even mastered the cross examination of the defense lawyers. I suppose someone with this much exposure to the legal system learns just what to say, when, and to whom. And her beauty, then there was that too.
Day one recessed and I headed for home. We of course were not allowed to watch any news about the case or discuss it with anyone. Right, I did what I could. As I thought through the day one trial events my attention always drifted back to the witness. That key witness for the prosecution was a real attention grabber both for the trial and for me personally. I could not get her out of my mind. The way she looked, moved, sat, talked, and carried the day for the prosecution. I just seemed to be unusually drawn to her and could just not pin down why.
Maybe I had glanced at her unknowingly some time in the past. Perhaps she was a cashier I had seen before, or a real estate agent, or a waitress, a barmaid, I had seen plenty of them, or a Jehovah’s Witness that came to the door. She could have been an old one-night stand, but I think my memory would have been clearer on that. Whatever it was I could just not pin it down. Maybe I could get a better look at her if she were at the trial later on.
Days two through four of the trial were laborious. The coroner, police responders, experts about this, experts about that, the party host, people who attended the party and all other introduced evidence by the prosecution. The prosecution rested their case on day four.
But the key witness was not there in days two through four. I continued to look around the courtroom and gallery for her, but she was nowhere in sight. It appeared I might not see her again since the rest of the trial was the defense case.
On day five, the defense went the usual route of trying to create reasonable doubt, and they had a lot to work with. Yes he was at the party but so were many others. His car was there at the time of the killing but so were many others. No forensic evidence. No eyewitness. It seemed like a no brainer not guilty verdict ….. except for the witness. What would they do with the witness and her testimony? Even though she managed the prosecution’s cross examination quite well, the defense decided to call her again. Afterall, she was a petty criminal with a record, surely that could be played into reasonable doubt.
As far as the defendant goes, he might have taken the stand to seal that reasonable doubt, but that would expose him to prosecution cross examination. And this guy could not be trusted to withstand that grilling. The defense could not even get the guy to look presentable and sit still at the table. Cross examination was out of the question. So it all boiled down to the witness.
So the defense called her to the stand. I watched very closely as she slowly rose from her chair and, with a certain reluctance, started walking slowly towards the stand. This time I had a much better view of her and could clearly see her face. We did make eye contact and she seemed to hesitate slightly, look away, but then did a quick double take on me as she progressed to the stand. So, why the double take on me? Why the hesitation? I could not see why and could not figure it out. But again, there was that sense of mystery and strange sense of familiarity about her that I still could not shake or figure out.
Despite her checkered past her answers still seemed to be far ahead of the defense’s questions. As she exited the stand I tried again to look closely at her, but she seemed to go out of her way to avoid any sort of eye contact with me and looked the other way in an exaggerated fashion as she quickly progressed towards her seat.
There were a few more days of trial as the defense desperately tried character witness after character witness to lock in their reasonable doubt strategy. But they still seemed behind the 8 Ball with the testimony of ….. the witness.
The last day of the trial was closing arguments. That last trial day and closing arguments were to be the next day and I was looking forward to this all being over. I had a great dinner at my favorite steak place, went home and retired for the night. But, still lingering was my vision of the witness, her beauty, her testimony, but more importantly that strange sense of familiarity and her double take look. Why the double take and why did she avoid looking at me when she left the stand. Certainly, as I said, I had done a lot of drinking, knew a lot of bar maids, went to a lot of parties and maybe she recognized me somehow from something like that. But so what. She was not the only thing I may have forgotten along the way. My extensive alcohol and some cocaine use really affected my memory of many events.
So, I settled in for a good night’s sleep but with the witness in the back of my mind.
The subconscious mind is a wonder. It lets you see what you cannot see on your own when awake. Also, those many drinking nights where you did not remember what you said, saw or did can be brought into the light.
A quote from Purvi Raniga: “Whatever is within us, comes in front of us. Actually our life is a mirror image of the sequences and incidents which are within us and deeply embedded in our subconscious mind.”
And there it was, my subconscious brought to life in my dream. With a strange sense of terror as I dreamed I saw her eyes again. Those penetrating eyes and those lost memories were brought into the light. How could I have pushed all this out of my conscious mind. Perhaps an alcoholic flashback triggered by those eyes, the witness’s eyes.
Yes I knew her but had only seen her a few times. And I remembered who she was. Part of my party days involved using cocaine. I only had used coke maybe five times and then quit. I got my coke from Alejandro. I did not know his last name but a couple of times when I got the cocaine she was there, with that same beauty and those same eyes, the eyes that brought all this back to me.
The next day at trial I watched the closing arguments. It all sounded pretty much like the standard, well-articulated arguments designed to confuse, confound, and mislead the jury into what both sides wanted them to do. As they made their extensive arguments I decided to take a closer look at the defendant. You know, the guy who did not want to clean himself up and stop making strange motions during the trial.
As I looked closer at him, and through the disheveled look, and all the movements I saw a worried man. A man who thought he might be convicted. I also saw a man who had a genuine look of fear, a look of fear that maybe spoke to his innocence despite the convincing testimony of the witness. Then I saw something more. Something more frightening than I had ever seen before. I saw his eyes and recognized him. I recognized the defendant. I recognized the witness, and I recognized the defendant in a frightening revelation that hit the pit of my stomach and instantly froze me.
It was a party years ago during my cocaine use period. Then it all came together. It did not take an alcoholic flashback or a subconscious revelation to now understand the witness’s double take look at me. I understood the witness’s hesitation to look at me as she returned to her seat. I understood the defendant’s strange look of desperation and his seeming look of innocence despite his uncontrolled appearance and actions.
With my alcoholic, cocaine influenced mind now clear, I realized I was at the party in question five years ago where the girl was killed. The witness was no witness at all, but just someone to testify against the defendant to save her boyfriend Alejandro, my drug dealer, and the defendant was innocent. Alejandro was a kingpin in this world, the world of drugs and crime and was considered untouchable in this world. It was I who saw, but could never remember, the murder taking place, until just now with this horrifying revelation. In the entire courtroom I was the only real witness ….. but what was I to do? I looked across the courtroom gallery and there he was at the back, disguised but still recognizable ….. Alejandro.
Could I stand up right now in the jury box in a Perry Mason moment and tell what I knew? Who would believe it at this late stage of the trial that I would have sat silent until this moment? Maybe it would spur a mistrial, but it would also expose me to kingpin Alejandro, and it was easy to tell how that would work out for me. It was also likely that the woman witness for the prosecution, Alejandro’s girl, had already recognized me and any mistrial born of my actions would put me on Alejandro’s list ….. the wrong list.
So, I remained silent. After closing arguments we in the jury were sent to deliberations. As I was thinking about how to manage things the jury foreman called for an initial anonymous vote. That could be my way out. Hopefully, there would be many innocent votes and I could influence the deliberations to anonymously bring about a unanimous not guilty verdict and be less identified as the sole source of the verdict. But the initial anonymous vote was eleven to one guilty. I was the only not guilty vote, but the other jurors did not know.
So now what? Fortunately, another juror called for a review of the witness testimony since it was the only compelling evidence to review. A couple of other jurors asked questions about her testimony which opened the door for my questions. But was I to tell the jury about my knowledge of the situation? Certainly, that would bring me to the attention of the judge and the prosecution, with the media getting involved and a sure mistrial with me moving to the top of Alejandro’s list. So, I tried to point out a couple of things about her testimony, but again, she was smooth with her testimony and left me little of impact to question.
Was I in another Georgio situation shared by my uncle? The defense certainly would know he was innocent. Maybe even the prosecution and judge were aware given their view of the testimony and evidence and knowledge of the local influence of Alejandro. With Alejandro’s power and influence were the prosecution and judge more concerned about their personal welfare than justice. If so it likely would not be the first time.
Then why should I burden myself with the sole responsibility for assuring the justice that I knew should happen in this case? Would I be the first to quietly let injustice take place to save their own skin? Unlikely. How many of the unjustly convicted defendants recently discovered through new DNA evidence were convicted under circumstances just like this case?
Then I remembered the movie “12 Angry Men” and a key quote:
“There were eleven votes for "guilty." It's not easy for me to raise my hand and send a boy off to die without talking about it first.” ― Reginald Rose, Twelve Angry Men
So, without disclosing my single not guilty vote, I suggested we at least, as a responsible jury, examine a possible scenario. I chose to start the conversation with a “what if” scenario that matched my knowledge of the situation. I did not mention Alejandro but posited that a powerful person may have committed the murder and was attempting to frame the defendant. And if the witness, whose testimony was the only key to a conviction, was tied to that powerful person that would be enough to throw us off course.
The room turned silent, a silence speaking to a sure conviction of the defendant. So, would I be Reginald Rose from “12 Angry Men”, stand up proudly and insist we have a conversation? No, I again selfishly remained silent.
The jury foreman then asked if anyone had anything else to question. He specifically asked about my scenario, the witness, the circumstantial evidence, the other testimony. The jurors all remained silent, including myself. It was getting late in the evening, everyone was tired, and the foreman asked us to get our minds clear, sleep on it and we would take a vote first thing in the morning.
That night was the worst and most challenging of my life. I tossed, I turned, I thought, I questioned myself, and the legal process itself, but I made my decision. After only two hours of sleep I awakened, struggled to get ready, and head back to the jury deliberations.
As we resumed deliberations, the foreman once again asked if anybody has any questions, wanted to review anything further, or discuss any topics. There was one juror who aggressively asked about the witness testimony and her sketchy background. But the discussion was short as the other jurors seemed unreceptive to discuss anything having slept on their decisions. But it seemed clear to me that the juror that questioned the witness testimony would clearly go with not guilty with enough reasonable doubt. That could be my way out.
The jurors all cast their votes and the foreman read them off one by one. Eleven guilty votes were cast with one remaining. Then he read the last vote ….. guilty.
My gamble had not paid off. The juror who questioned the witness testimony had also voted guilty. I had saved myself but let an innocent man be convicted to save my own skin. So the defendant was added to the long list of wrongfully convicted defendants. All it took was a judge, a prosecutor, a defense attorney, a defendant, a jury, a false witness, and me, although silent, I still remained ….. the witness.
The Witness(Tom Keltner)
Jury duty? My uncle told me about it, and I didn’t want it. But here it was. and I was on the jury. Would the defendant be someone that would go after my family? How does this process really work ….. or does it even work at all? Our legal system can be a mess. Is it less about finding the truth and more about winning and losing? Here I was, right in the middle of it about to find out.
My uncle said he was a friend of his named Georgio ….. something or other. His attorney knew he was innocent, the prosecution knew he was innocent, the judge knew he was innocent ….. but the jury found him guilty. So, twelve people with no legal background and education, a host of personal biases, mountains of inadmissible evidence to ignore, took five minutes of jury instruction and produced a verdict. How could I subject myself to that? Well I had no choice.
The first day of the trial held nothing special. The incident happened five years ago, and it took this long to get to trial due to continuances, motions, filings, and other complications. The defendant was about my age and accused of manslaughter of a young woman at the party. How many parties had I been to with people like this? Way too many, but I never remember anything like this happening. Of course, who remembers much of anything about these parties? It all boiled down to whether I scored or not ….. now that was memorable.
The prosecution had circumstantial evidence about the defendant’s actions that night. A neighbor’s surveillance camera showed the defendant’s car was parked on the street about the time they thought the girl was killed. Some people testified that he was at the party about that time. But, the prosecution seemed to lack any sort of smoking gun, forensic evidence, a confession, an eyewitness, or any other compelling evidence. The defendant was not helping his case. He seemed to refuse taking the measure to look clean cut and seemed to look around too much making odd gestures. You could see his attorneys trying to keep his actions in order.
And then the prosecution played their hopeful hole card. They did have one key witness with some blockbuster testimony about the defendant confessing to her what he had done that night. A witness that had known the defendant for years and was a confidant. The big problem was this witness had a record, a long record of criminal activity and had done time for small robberies and some drug use. She was at the party, but could she be believed? It would be up to the jury. The typical jury of nonlegal eagles, unchecked biases, limited intelligence, and well ….. questionable competence to manage the situation.
The witness was beautiful and cast a flirting eye on the men in the jury working in the occasional leg cross, and mysterious smile. She carried herself well through the prosecution softball questioning. I could not see her well from my position in the jury box but could easily tell what she was doing and how she was acting.
She even mastered the cross examination of the defense lawyers. I suppose someone with this much exposure to the legal system learns just what to say, when, and to whom. And her beauty, then there was that too.
Day one recessed and I headed for home. We of course were not allowed to watch any news about the case or discuss it with anyone. Right, I did what I could. As I thought through the day one trial events my attention always drifted back to the witness. That key witness for the prosecution was a real attention grabber both for the trial and for me personally. I could not get her out of my mind. The way she looked, moved, sat, talked, and carried the day for the prosecution. I just seemed to be unusually drawn to her and could just not pin down why.
Maybe I had glanced at her unknowingly some time in the past. Perhaps she was a cashier I had seen before, or a real estate agent, or a waitress, a barmaid, I had seen plenty of them, or a Jehovah’s Witness that came to the door. She could have been an old one-night stand, but I think my memory would have been clearer on that. Whatever it was I could just not pin it down. Maybe I could get a better look at her if she were at the trial later on.
Days two through four of the trial were laborious. The coroner, police responders, experts about this, experts about that, the party host, people who attended the party and all other introduced evidence by the prosecution. The prosecution rested their case on day four.
But the key witness was not there in days two through four. I continued to look around the courtroom and gallery for her, but she was nowhere in sight. It appeared I might not see her again since the rest of the trial was the defense case.
On day five, the defense went the usual route of trying to create reasonable doubt, and they had a lot to work with. Yes he was at the party but so were many others. His car was there at the time of the killing but so were many others. No forensic evidence. No eyewitness. It seemed like a no brainer not guilty verdict ….. except for the witness. What would they do with the witness and her testimony? Even though she managed the prosecution’s cross examination quite well, the defense decided to call her again. Afterall, she was a petty criminal with a record, surely that could be played into reasonable doubt.
As far as the defendant goes, he might have taken the stand to seal that reasonable doubt, but that would expose him to prosecution cross examination. And this guy could not be trusted to withstand that grilling. The defense could not even get the guy to look presentable and sit still at the table. Cross examination was out of the question. So it all boiled down to the witness.
So the defense called her to the stand. I watched very closely as she slowly rose from her chair and, with a certain reluctance, started walking slowly towards the stand. This time I had a much better view of her and could clearly see her face. We did make eye contact and she seemed to hesitate slightly, look away, but then did a quick double take on me as she progressed to the stand. So, why the double take on me? Why the hesitation? I could not see why and could not figure it out. But again, there was that sense of mystery and strange sense of familiarity about her that I still could not shake or figure out.
Despite her checkered past her answers still seemed to be far ahead of the defense’s questions. As she exited the stand I tried again to look closely at her, but she seemed to go out of her way to avoid any sort of eye contact with me and looked the other way in an exaggerated fashion as she quickly progressed towards her seat.
There were a few more days of trial as the defense desperately tried character witness after character witness to lock in their reasonable doubt strategy. But they still seemed behind the 8 Ball with the testimony of ….. the witness.
The last day of the trial was closing arguments. That last trial day and closing arguments were to be the next day and I was looking forward to this all being over. I had a great dinner at my favorite steak place, went home and retired for the night. But, still lingering was my vision of the witness, her beauty, her testimony, but more importantly that strange sense of familiarity and her double take look. Why the double take and why did she avoid looking at me when she left the stand. Certainly, as I said, I had done a lot of drinking, knew a lot of bar maids, went to a lot of parties and maybe she recognized me somehow from something like that. But so what. She was not the only thing I may have forgotten along the way. My extensive alcohol and some cocaine use really affected my memory of many events.
So, I settled in for a good night’s sleep but with the witness in the back of my mind.
The subconscious mind is a wonder. It lets you see what you cannot see on your own when awake. Also, those many drinking nights where you did not remember what you said, saw or did can be brought into the light.
A quote from Purvi Raniga: “Whatever is within us, comes in front of us. Actually our life is a mirror image of the sequences and incidents which are within us and deeply embedded in our subconscious mind.”
And there it was, my subconscious brought to life in my dream. With a strange sense of terror as I dreamed I saw her eyes again. Those penetrating eyes and those lost memories were brought into the light. How could I have pushed all this out of my conscious mind. Perhaps an alcoholic flashback triggered by those eyes, the witness’s eyes.
Yes I knew her but had only seen her a few times. And I remembered who she was. Part of my party days involved using cocaine. I only had used coke maybe five times and then quit. I got my coke from Alejandro. I did not know his last name but a couple of times when I got the cocaine she was there, with that same beauty and those same eyes, the eyes that brought all this back to me.
The next day at trial I watched the closing arguments. It all sounded pretty much like the standard, well-articulated arguments designed to confuse, confound, and mislead the jury into what both sides wanted them to do. As they made their extensive arguments I decided to take a closer look at the defendant. You know, the guy who did not want to clean himself up and stop making strange motions during the trial.
As I looked closer at him, and through the disheveled look, and all the movements I saw a worried man. A man who thought he might be convicted. I also saw a man who had a genuine look of fear, a look of fear that maybe spoke to his innocence despite the convincing testimony of the witness. Then I saw something more. Something more frightening than I had ever seen before. I saw his eyes and recognized him. I recognized the defendant. I recognized the witness, and I recognized the defendant in a frightening revelation that hit the pit of my stomach and instantly froze me.
It was a party years ago during my cocaine use period. Then it all came together. It did not take an alcoholic flashback or a subconscious revelation to now understand the witness’s double take look at me. I understood the witness’s hesitation to look at me as she returned to her seat. I understood the defendant’s strange look of desperation and his seeming look of innocence despite his uncontrolled appearance and actions.
With my alcoholic, cocaine influenced mind now clear, I realized I was at the party in question five years ago where the girl was killed. The witness was no witness at all, but just someone to testify against the defendant to save her boyfriend Alejandro, my drug dealer, and the defendant was innocent. Alejandro was a kingpin in this world, the world of drugs and crime and was considered untouchable in this world. It was I who saw, but could never remember, the murder taking place, until just now with this horrifying revelation. In the entire courtroom I was the only real witness ….. but what was I to do? I looked across the courtroom gallery and there he was at the back, disguised but still recognizable ….. Alejandro.
Could I stand up right now in the jury box in a Perry Mason moment and tell what I knew? Who would believe it at this late stage of the trial that I would have sat silent until this moment? Maybe it would spur a mistrial, but it would also expose me to kingpin Alejandro, and it was easy to tell how that would work out for me. It was also likely that the woman witness for the prosecution, Alejandro’s girl, had already recognized me and any mistrial born of my actions would put me on Alejandro’s list ….. the wrong list.
So, I remained silent. After closing arguments we in the jury were sent to deliberations. As I was thinking about how to manage things the jury foreman called for an initial anonymous vote. That could be my way out. Hopefully, there would be many innocent votes and I could influence the deliberations to anonymously bring about a unanimous not guilty verdict and be less identified as the sole source of the verdict. But the initial anonymous vote was eleven to one guilty. I was the only not guilty vote, but the other jurors did not know.
So now what? Fortunately, another juror called for a review of the witness testimony since it was the only compelling evidence to review. A couple of other jurors asked questions about her testimony which opened the door for my questions. But was I to tell the jury about my knowledge of the situation? Certainly, that would bring me to the attention of the judge and the prosecution, with the media getting involved and a sure mistrial with me moving to the top of Alejandro’s list. So, I tried to point out a couple of things about her testimony, but again, she was smooth with her testimony and left me little of impact to question.
Was I in another Georgio situation shared by my uncle? The defense certainly would know he was innocent. Maybe even the prosecution and judge were aware given their view of the testimony and evidence and knowledge of the local influence of Alejandro. With Alejandro’s power and influence were the prosecution and judge more concerned about their personal welfare than justice. If so it likely would not be the first time.
Then why should I burden myself with the sole responsibility for assuring the justice that I knew should happen in this case? Would I be the first to quietly let injustice take place to save their own skin? Unlikely. How many of the unjustly convicted defendants recently discovered through new DNA evidence were convicted under circumstances just like this case?
Then I remembered the movie “12 Angry Men” and a key quote:
“There were eleven votes for "guilty." It's not easy for me to raise my hand and send a boy off to die without talking about it first.” ― Reginald Rose, Twelve Angry Men
So, without disclosing my single not guilty vote, I suggested we at least, as a responsible jury, examine a possible scenario. I chose to start the conversation with a “what if” scenario that matched my knowledge of the situation. I did not mention Alejandro but posited that a powerful person may have committed the murder and was attempting to frame the defendant. And if the witness, whose testimony was the only key to a conviction, was tied to that powerful person that would be enough to throw us off course.
The room turned silent, a silence speaking to a sure conviction of the defendant. So, would I be Reginald Rose from “12 Angry Men”, stand up proudly and insist we have a conversation? No, I again selfishly remained silent.
The jury foreman then asked if anyone had anything else to question. He specifically asked about my scenario, the witness, the circumstantial evidence, the other testimony. The jurors all remained silent, including myself. It was getting late in the evening, everyone was tired, and the foreman asked us to get our minds clear, sleep on it and we would take a vote first thing in the morning.
That night was the worst and most challenging of my life. I tossed, I turned, I thought, I questioned myself, and the legal process itself, but I made my decision. After only two hours of sleep I awakened, struggled to get ready, and head back to the jury deliberations.
As we resumed deliberations, the foreman once again asked if anybody has any questions, wanted to review anything further, or discuss any topics. There was one juror who aggressively asked about the witness testimony and her sketchy background. But the discussion was short as the other jurors seemed unreceptive to discuss anything having slept on their decisions. But it seemed clear to me that the juror that questioned the witness testimony would clearly go with not guilty with enough reasonable doubt. That could be my way out.
The jurors all cast their votes and the foreman read them off one by one. Eleven guilty votes were cast with one remaining. Then he read the last vote ….. guilty.
My gamble had not paid off. The juror who questioned the witness testimony had also voted guilty. I had saved myself but let an innocent man be convicted to save my own skin. So the defendant was added to the long list of wrongfully convicted defendants. All it took was a judge, a prosecutor, a defense attorney, a defendant, a jury, a false witness, and me, although silent, I still remained ….. the witness.
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Cheryl Ryan
01/28/2024Amazing and enlightening. I have learned so much about the court process from this short story.
Thank you for sharing!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Joel Kiula
01/27/2024Great story but i think we should always tell the truth no matter what. We have seen so many men wrongly convicted and it is sad to see. Thank you for sharing this.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Valerie Allen
07/31/2022Tom - Good story about the "moral dillemma." This is something we all face at some point in life. Your story is one that gets people thinking and consdering alternatives. Congrats on being Story Star of the Day ~
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Lillian Kazmierczak
07/31/2022Great story. A real quandry for the jurist. Makes you think about what you would do in that situation! Congratulations on short story star of the day!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kenneth Bryant
07/31/2022Really good story. Very provocative. I have to say give the main character's questionable background it might not have made sense for him to try and be a hero. I would have liked that take along with a happy ending. But the story is much better this way.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
07/30/2022That was a well crafted, thought provoking and intriguing read, Tom. Well done. Happy short story STAR of the day! :-)
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Tom Keltner
08/12/2022JD, thanks for the tip. I believe I have my author profile in good shape now.
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
08/11/2022Hey Tom, if you create an author profile then your name will appear as a link on all your stories, and also every time you comment, so that other readers/writers can easily access the other stories you've written.
COMMENTS (9)