Chapter 1.2

Stanley found himself in a dimly-lit interrogation room. He was handcuffed and seated in front of a table behind soundproof glass. His head was hanging down, and there were dark circles underneath his eyes. [ "Ugh... my head hurts. What happened... to me?" ]

Images rapid fired throughout Stanley's brain. For some reason, the image of Heather lingered longer than the others.

[ "Oh yeah... that." ]

The door to the room opened, and a man wearing a maroon suit walked in. "Hey bud, how're you doing?"

Stanley bleakly looked up at him. "You a cop?"

"Detective. Ken Imamura. I'm just here to get the details of what transpired last night around seven p.m. outside of an unnamed nightclub."

Stanley shrugged. "I punched some asshole in the face. End of story."

"End of story huh? Well, the problem is, that doesn't match the witness reports."

"Witness reports...?"

Ken tossed a short pile of papers on the table. "They say you threatened to kill a man, Oliver Hartworth, and his girlfriend, Heather Mayfield."

Stanley frowned with a mix of confusion and delirium. "Hartworth...? So that's how it is..." He stood up and leaned over the table. "LIARS!! BOTH OF THEM, LIARS!!"

Ken read through the pages. "According to this, you were recently fired from Hartworth Enterprises for... negligence of duty and... demanding a raise? Ms. Mayfield states that the two of you are former friends, and that you often struggled to make ends meet. Perhaps you took that frustration out on Mr. Hartworth?"

Stanley couldn't believe his ears. "NO!! IT'S ALL LIES!! THEY'RE LYING TO YOU!!"

"So you're saying the information is false? Were you not fired from Hartworth Enterprises?"

Stanley's face fell. "I mean, I was, but..."

"Sounds like a typical revenge plot to me."

Stanley grit his teeth sharply, but he sat back down. "You know what? Whatever. Aren't I supposed to get a lawyer? You're clearly not on my side here."

"I'm just trying to understand the facts."

"I gave you the facts."

"Then why are all the witness reports saying otherwise? People saw, you know."

Stanley frowned. "You tell me, detective. You tell me."

Ken stood up, gathering his papers. "Have it your way. Your trial is tomorrow. You'll be held without bond in the meantime."

"That's soon, isn't it?"

"Yes well... I'm guessing the judge wanted to get you out of the way."

-

( The next day, Criminal Court of Lakesboro )

Stanley was sitting at the desk next to his lawyer. He briefly thought back to their short conversation right before the trial.

< "So, can you get me out of this?" Stanley asked.

His lawyer, Wembley Poe, was assigned to him by the state. He was dressed in a brown suit with round glasses on his face. A relatively young man in his mid thirties, yet his hairline had already receded quite a bit. "Well... I'll be honest. It'll be an uphill battle. It's your word against theirs, and attempted murder isn't taken lightly in this country."

"Yeah but I didn't threaten anyone. All I did was slug the guy."

"That's... not what I've heard."

Stanley sat up aggressively. "Whose side are you on here?!"

Wembley pushed his glasses up. "Yours, of course. I'm just saying the likelihood of you getting away from this isn't in your favor..." >

Stanley sighed. He briefly glanced over at the jury, and noticed that every single one of the jurors were staring directly at him. Some of them nervously looked away, others kept eye contact.

[ "Something's not right here..." ]

The judge entered the room from a door to the back. He approached the bench and sat down. "Ahem. Order in the court. We are here today to begin the trial of Stanley Thompson. This is a criminal case, and I want to remind everyone that we are here to seek justice, and justice must be pursued impartially and... and fairly."

Stanley zoned out.

The prosecutor stood. "Your Honor, the People are ready to proceed." Sitting next to him was Oliver Hartworth. He didn't bother looking Stanley's way. Instead he was sitting back in his chair with a small smirk on his face.

Wembley stood up as well. "Your Honor, the Defense is also ready."

[ "What defense?!" ] Stanley thought. [ "He already has my defeat in mind...!" ]

The judge was quiet. He was reading through the papers in front of him while wiping sweat from his brow.

Stanley's eyes wandered to the judge's nameplate. It read 'Judge Imamura'. He jumped to his feet. "Hey, wait a minute!! Are you related to that detective from yesterday?!"

The judge tapped his gavel. "Order in the court, please."

Stanley didn't know why, but suddenly he remembered a faint memory of his father from years ago.

< Stanley was young, about six years of age. He was walking into the kitchen of his house, where his mother and father were unpacking boxes.

Stanley's father was a handsome man. He was tall, brown-eyed, dark-skinned, and kept a well-groomed beard on his face. He was wearing a white collared shirt and blue jeans. He stood up with a toaster in-hand. "Hey son, almost ready for bed? You've got school in the morning."

Stanley kicked his feet shyly. "I don't wanna go..."

His father set the toaster down on the kitchen table. "You don't? Why not?"

"The other kids make fun of me. They say I dress funny."

Stanley's mother stood up. "Oh, Stanley..."

Stanley's father knelt down. "Son, you don't dress funny. You dress like an intelligent young man. They're just kids. They don't see it now, but they'll acknowledge you later. Besides, there might come a time in your life where people judge you solely because of your name. So chin up, alright? Your mom bought pizza."

"Pizza! Okay!" >

Judge Imamura took off his glasses. "After careful consideration of the case at hand, it is now time to render a verdict in the case of Stanley Thompson."

Stanley dropped back into his seat out of disbelief. "They aren't even gonna give me a fair trial?"

Wembley was about to laugh but covered it up as a cough.

Stanley was shocked. [ "They're all in on it... why did it have to be me...?" ]

Judge Imamura continued. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached an unanimous verdict?"

The foreperson stood. "Yes, Your Honor, we have."

"Please read the verdict loud and clear for the court to hear."

"Ahem. In the case of Mr. Stanley Thompson, we, the jury, find the defendant guilty of attempted murder and aggravated assault against Mr. Oliver Hartworth and Heather Mayfield."

[ "It's only been two days. Dad, is this the way you wanted me to live? Was I wrong for hitting this guy? Sure. Should I have kept my mouth shut back then to keep my job? Probably. Then I could've at least kept going down the straight and narrow, even if Heather didn't want me. But..." ]

The judge nodded slowly. He looked directly at Stanley. "I don't think there's any reason to waste more time here. I hereby sentence Mr. Thompson... to fifteen years in prison."

Stanley grit his teeth. "All of you... all of you...!" He stood up and rushed at the judge, but not before the nearby police officers could grab hold of him.

[ "I'm tired of pretending to be somebody I'm not." ]

Stanley pushed the officers away from him. "ALL OF YOU ARE THE SCUM OF SOCIETY!! I DIDN'T EVEN GET THE CHANCE TO DEFEND MYSELF!! WHAT'S THE REASON?! TELL ME!!"

One of the officers shot a tranquilizing dart into his neck.

Three of them then tackled him to the floor until he fell unconscious.

[ "I'll... get whoever's... responsible... for this..." ]