The Trial of Mr. X

Tensions have always been high in relation to an election, not that it mattered all that much to President Lewis. Although she tried her best to promote a fair, free and safe society, her priorities were disorganised and were not always in the best interests of her people.

In the summer of 3995, Janelle sat at her desk on a warm, bright midweek day. Her clerk entered her office, holding a folder of paperwork. The clerk carefully placed the folder on Janelle's desk and spoke, "I've got an apparent treason case for you, Ms. Jacobs."

Janelle picked up the folder with a hint of apprehension. As she held it in her hands, she pondered the countless cases she had managed throughout her career, unable to recall a single instance of treason among them. The folder bore a label on its front cover, announcing, 'The State versus Mr. X: a breach of the Second Principle, namely do not lie, steal, or cause harm.'

With a mixture of curiosity and concern, Janelle carefully opened the folder, revealing the indictment prepared by the prosecutor. Her eyes first fell upon an Anonymity Declaration, a document she recognised as a standard practice for alleged treason cases. Such proceedings were typically conducted discreetly, away from the public eye, to ensure the safety and security of the defendant. After all, the legal principle of 'innocent until proven guilty' had long been held as sacrosanct.

Turning over the declaration, she delved into the heart of the matter, reading the words of the indictment that awaited her:

In the case of The State versus Mr. X,

On the 13th of June 3995, the defendant, Mr. X, exhibited a deliberate and malevolent intent when orchestrating a protest outside the hallowed halls of the Presidential Palace, the residence of President Deanna Lewis. This act was carried out with a clear objective: to inflict harm upon the President, in direct contravention of Principle 2 among the foundational tenets that govern our society's legal framework.

The indictment, while not overly detailed, gave Janelle a glimpse into what the case would entail. She turned to the clerk and inquired, "When is the trial set for?" The clerk consulted a slip of paper and responded, "Tomorrow at 9am." Janelle handed the folder back, and the clerk hastily left the room. She had presided over countless cases, mostly minor crimes, in her courtroom. The notion that organising a protest amounted to treason was hard to fathom, but experience had taught her not to rush to judgment before hearing all sides.

The next morning, Janelle entered the courtroom to find Mr. X, his defence lawyer, the State's prosecutor, a small entourage from the Presidential Palace - a common sight in cases involving the President - and her clerk. The courtroom, though aging and showing its wear, retained a grandeur that filled Janelle with pride each time she took her seat. Her gaze shifted to Mr. X, who looked back at her with a sheepish demeanour, avoiding direct eye contact.

"Mr. X, kindly rise," Janelle instructed. He stood beside his lawyer, a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. "As is customary in all criminal cases," Janelle continued, "the Constitution requires me to inquire, before we proceed with the trial, about your plea concerning the charges brought against you. Regarding the charge of breaching Principle 2, how do you plead?" she asked. Mr. X drew a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper as he replied, "Not guilty." Acknowledging his plea with a subtle nod, Janelle proceeded, saying, "Very well. We will now proceed with the opening statements from both the prosecution and defence. I request the prosecution to rise and present their case."

A demure woman to Mr. X's left rose from her seat, picked up a sheet of paper, and cleared her throat with a discreet cough. "Thank you, Decider," she began, her voice somewhat shaky. "Mr. X stands accused by the Guard of violating Principle 2, specifically causing harm to another individual. On the 13th of June 3995, the defendant organised a protest outside the Presidential Palace, knowing that President Lewis was present. During this protest, which gathered approximately fifty participants, the defendant made an attempt to incite a riot by proclaiming, 'We will bring down this tyrannical dictator.' While the protest did not escalate into violence, the underlying sentiment was unmistakable: the defendant's intention was to turn it into a violent uprising aimed at toppling President Lewis. In Ravencroft, where our laws are scarce, it is imperative that we take these laws seriously. Our society's foundation relies on the four fundamental principles, which are designed to safeguard our citizens' security and well-being. Recklessly employing phrases such as the one used by the defendant cannot go unnoticed," she asserted. Pausing for a moment to sip from a glass of water, she continued, "Decider, I implore you to find the defendant guilty. The State is seeking the maximum penalty for a crime of this nature." With that, she promptly retook her seat, leaving Janelle and the defence lawyer seated to Mr. X's right somewhat taken aback by her sudden conclusion.

Janelle took a measured breath before addressing the room, saying, "Concise. Let's proceed. Defence, you may rise and present your opening argument." Positioned to Mr. X's right was a stout man surrounded by stacks of paperwork, a veritable fortress of preparedness. Without missing a beat, he stood and launched into his argument.

"Decider, thank you," he began confidently. "I believe we can all recognise the absurdity of this case. Though it may have been a while, when did the simple acts of expressing one's opinions and thoughts become criminal offences? The stark reality before us is crystal clear: we are dealing with an unelected President who has initiated legal action against an individual simply for speaking out against her. If that isn't a textbook example of tyranny, then I earnestly implore the Court to enlighten me. Principle 2, as laid out in our laws, is not open to interpretation; its meaning is unmistakable—do not lie, steal, or cause harm. In this instance, the defendant has committed none of these transgressions. He has articulated an opinion, which is the antithesis of a lie. He has not engaged in theft, and the only harm he may have inflicted is to the President's pride. But a bruised ego, Your Honour, is a minor matter, one that maturity and resilience can effortlessly mend."

He fixed a firm gaze on the Court as he concluded his impassioned speech, adding, "I beseech this Court to perceive this case for what it truly is: a trifling criminal charge wielded against an individual who has dared to advocate for democracy. I implore the Court to dismiss this case unconditionally." With that, he resumed his seat, his demeanour bearing a hint of exasperation at the situation.

"Very well," Decider Janelle stated firmly. "I see no valid reason to prolong these proceedings and shall proceed with the judgment immediately. The lack of evidence submitted to this Court before the trial is, to put it frankly, insulting. I would kindly encourage the prosecution to, in the future, approach their case with greater diligence. This Court does not exist to entertain hearsay or observe frivolous finger-pointing." Pausing briefly for a sip of water, she continued.

"Mr. X, based on the presented evidence and arguments, I find no grounds to conclude that you have committed a crime or acted unreasonably. While it is not this Court's purview to pass judgment on your personal beliefs, our duty lies in assessing the merits of the case before us. Therefore, I hereby declare the defendant not guilty. This case is considered closed, and it may only be reopened should substantial, new evidence come to light."

Janelle's decision was met with a mixture of relief and gratitude from Mr. X and his lawyer, as well as a touch of frustration from the prosecution. Nonetheless, justice had been served.

Decider Janelle stood, the weight of her responsibilities evident in her thoughtful pause before addressing the courtroom. She hesitated for a moment, seemingly torn about whether to voice her concerns. Then, she made a deliberate choice and settled back into her seat. Her expression bore a mix of worry and determination as she decided to speak her mind.

"I notice the presence of a delegation from the Palace in my courtroom," she began, her voice firm and resolute. "Before we adjourn, I want to make something unequivocally clear. This case was never one of treason, nor could it ever be considered as such. It was a clear call for the restoration of democratic processes—a right that has been absent in Ravencroft for far too long."

Janelle's tone grew more impassioned as she continued, her words resonating with a sense of conviction. "I find it deeply troubling that the Palace attempted to stifle this man's voice in the face of such a serious matter. Enough is enough. As Decider, it is my duty to preside over cases, but it is also my responsibility to speak out when a situation becomes untenable. And, my fellow citizens, this situation has reached that point."

She met the gaze of those present, her voice unwavering. "I fear we may encounter more cases like this in the coming months, so I am compelled to set a precedent today. The people of Ravencroft possess an inalienable right to freedom of thought, expression, opinion, and assembly. These rights are the very bedrock upon which our society was built and have been absent for far too long. It is not the role of any individual or entity to police the thoughts and opinions of our citizens."

Janelle's eyes sharpened with determination as she continued, "I, for one, will not stand for the criminalisation of those who dare to hold views differing from someone who has assumed a position of power without a true mandate."

With those resounding words, Decider Janelle signalled a new era in Ravencroft—one where the voices of the people would no longer be suppressed, and the struggle for democracy would be met with unwavering support from the justice system itself.

Decider Janelle's resolve wavered only slightly as she glanced at the Palace delegation. The expressions on their faces—disgust, anger, shock, and a hint of embarrassment—told her that her words had hit home, and perhaps too close for comfort.

"Furthermore," she continued with measured determination, "I am initiating a comprehensive review into the legality and morality of President Lewis' rule. It is my unwavering belief that the citizens of Ravencroft deserve the fundamental right to choose their leader, and I will champion that right for as long as I draw breath."

The weight of her declaration hung in the air as she continued, "Let it be known that this Court stands firmly in support of a free and fair election. Court is adjourned."

With that, Decider Janelle rose from her seat and exited the courtroom with brisk, determined strides. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and a sense of unease gnawed at her. Had she made a grave mistake? Her public criticism of the President, in front of a delegation that undoubtedly held close ties to President Lewis, could be seen as a serious misstep.

As she reached her office in the back room, she paused, taking a moment to reflect on her actions. Doubt crept in, and she wondered if she had jeopardised her career with her impassioned speech. However, the thought of the greater good—the restoration of democracy and the rights of the people—outweighed any personal concerns.

"Damn," she whispered to herself, still trembling with the consequences of her decision. Yet, beneath the uncertainty, a fire burned within her, fuelled by the belief that she had taken a necessary step toward a brighter future for Ravencroft.