April 2076
Oakvale, Pacific Territory
United States of America

“Court is now in session. All rise,” shouted the bailiff as he stood before the judge’s podium. “The High Court of the Pacific Territory, the Honorable Judge Jeanine Williams, presiding.”

Alex scanned the courtroom. The benches were packed with people, a few supporting either Alex and Rourke, others supporting Mayor Hawthorne and the Jamesons. Most were there just to hear the verdict. He recognized a few neighbors from down the way, the Johansson’s, sitting a few rows back and flashed a meek smile at them. They nodded back, tight smiles stretched across their own faces in anticipation of the trial. 

Alex looked around again, and found the Morel family sitting in the far back, barely viewable in the far corner of the room. Their daughter had been one of the girls Forrest had been acquitted of assaulting. She was found dead two days after the trial, shot execution style. The gun was never found. Their faces looked strained, as they usually did when around anyone from the Hawthorne administration, but as he caught Mr. Morel’s eyes, Alex realized they were concerned for him too. He nodded reassurance to the man, who gave him a brief twinge of a smile. The gavel slamming down brought Alex back to attention.

“Please be seated,” Judge Williams said curtly as she cleared her throat and took her own seat. “We are here today to hear the case of Samuelson and Rourke versus the Pacific Territory. Will the defendants please rise.” 

Alex felt himself rising as Rourke lifted him under the arm. 

“Mr. Samuelson and I plead not guilty, your Honor,” he heard the older man’s bass voice echo through the near silent chamber.

“Mr. Rourke, has Mr. Samuelson agreed to you acting as counsel, despite the fact that you are also accused in this crime?” Judge Williams didn’t seem impressed with Rourke’s representing the two of them, Alex observed.

“I served as a secondary counsel with the Judge Advocate General at the signing of the Northern Treaties, your Honor,” Rourke said, his voice gruff and his face passive. There was a general intake of breath as those in the room realized Rourke wasn’t simply the hillbilly farmer they had always taken him for. “Alex has agreed to let me represent him and I have full confidence in my own abilities.”

Alex saw something spark in Judge Williams’s eyes, but he wasn’t sure if it was amusement or anger. Either way, Rourke’s words seemed to have struck the right chord. She turned to the Mayor and the Jamesons at the next table.

“This trial will determine the guilt or innocence of Mr. Samuelson and Mr. Rourke. What punishment do the people request?” Judge Williams asked the lead prosecutor. 

He stood and Alex got his first good look at the man. He was thin almost to the point of frailty. His black hair was greased back tightly along his scalp and he sported only the faintest trace of a mustache, almost as if he had drawn it on with ink.

“Your Honor, the people seek capital punishment for both the defendants,” said the lead counsel slowly.

Gasps echoed everywhere behind Alex’s back. He was also sure his stomach had just dropped out of his ass, judging by the pit in his stomach. 

They want to execute us? he wanted to scream but kept his mouth shut. A trail of sweat trickled down the side of his face.

“Very well, Mr. Reed, the state accepts the people’s claim of capital punishment in light of the fatalities involved. You may proceed with your opening statement,” responded Williams evenly, but Alex noticed her eyes seemed almost angry at the mention of the death penalty. 

Alex had never been to an execution but his father had once served on a firing squad. Back in the days of his grandfather, Alex had been told, inmates were executed by injecting lethal chemicals into their bodies. It had been an extremely costly procedure. When the wars broke out and the economy fell into ruins, the government had been forced to go back to more mundane approaches. 

Firing squads had turned out to be the least painful and most useful version. No longer did death row inmates sit in prison for years awaiting their execution. Now they were given one night’s rest to pray or think or sleep or scream. In the morning, he and Rourke would be brought out to the firing box. Only those holding the guns would leave that field. Alex coughed into his hand and forced his thoughts away from the grisly prospect of staring down five men with rifles trained at his chest.

“Your Honor, people of the Pacific Territory, I am here today to prove, beyond a shred of doubt, that those two men sitting right there,” he orated as he pointed at Alex and Rourke, “did murder three young men in cold blood.” 

Another round of gasps rose up in the chamber.

“We will have order in this court!” Judge Williams yelled as she pounded the gavel. “The next person in this room who gasps will be thrown out, do you hear me? This isn’t a soap opera, I expect everyone to behave themselves and respect this court!” No one said anything and Alex took it they all understood quite clearly. “Carry on, Mr. Reed, if you please.”

“Thank you, your Honor,” Reed responded, obviously caught off guard by the obvious incredulity in the crowd of assembled onlookers. “Your Honor, if it pleases the court, I’d like to call our first witness to the stand. I call Alex Samuelson!” This time the judge ignored the gasps. 

“Mr. Reed, do you not have any additional witnesses, other than the suspects themselves?” Judge Williams almost chided him.

“Your Honor, with all due respect, I only need the testimony of Mr. Samuelson to prove his guilt,” Reed responded, his nose turned up in arrogance.

“Very well, Mr. Reed, if you insist. The witness will take the stand,” Judge Williams said, a suspicious look in her eyes.

Alex rose, uncertain of what was happening, but did as he was told. He moved around the table, casting a concerned glance at Rourke, who simply nodded, eyes focused on Alex. The stand seemed to tower above him as he climbed the three small steps into the box. A bible rested on the edge of the small desk in front of the chair and bailiff asked him to swear the Oath of Truth, palm resting on the battered book.

“Mr. Samuelson, would you kindly tell us what happened the day you murdered those boys,” Reed said as he approached the witness stand.

“Objection, Mr. Samuelson has not been found guilty of any crime!” roared Rourke as he stood up. His chair skittered back across the waxed, wooden floor and slammed into the planks in front of the first row of seats.

“Sustained. Mr. Reed, I’ll not ask you again. Refer to either defendant in that way again and I’ll throw this case out and personally request that you be disbarred. Are we clear?” 

Williams didn’t seem at all impressed with Reed’s bravado. Alex could see Mayor Hawthorne in the front row, just behind the prosecutor’s table. She was fuming, her face red and her eyes wide with anger. 

“And Mr. Rourke. Please be careful with the furniture, we don’t have any more money in the budget for chairs this year’.” 

Rourke nodded, satisfied with the decision, and pulled his chair back to take his seat.

“Very well, let me rephrase,” Reed began again. “Mr. Samuelson, why don’t you walk us through what you were doing before the shootings took place.” Alex saw the prosecutor raise an eyebrow at the judge, a silent check as to the legitimacy of his questioning.

Alex took them through his morning, quickly explaining that he went hunting while his parents were busy taking care of chores around the house and farm. He had finished his and just wanted to head out to the woods. He recounted his hunting of the bird, eventually following it onto Rourke’s property, the conversation he had heard between the three men in the cornfield. He was careful not to mention Cassie at all. He didn’t want her involved. As soon as he had finished telling of how Rourke chased him out of the field, Reed jumped in and interrupted him.

“So, Mr. Samuelson, by your own admission you violated private property law and trespassed onto property you clearly knew was not your own. You also retrieved a hunted animal from the property, another crime. Your Honor, it is clear to me this young man has little regard for the law. He admits to violating private property laws and to eavesdropping, an explicitly deceitful act!” Reed seemed to Alex to be in his element, like a politician giving a speech at a local rally. Alex shrank back into the seat, gripping the sides of the chair tightly. He saw Rourke stand to object again. But it was Judge Williams whose voice he heard.

“Mr. Reed, stay on course here. Mr. Rourke has already waived any wrongdoing on Mr. Samuelson’s part in property or hunting violations. Stick to the facts of the case. If I have to tell you again, this is over. I have better things to do than listen to you badgering a witness at his own trial,” she said, her disapproval of Reed’s tactics clearly showing through now.

“Your, your Honor, I, I apologize,” Reed stammered, obviously ill-used to a judge so critical of his court manner. Then he turned back to Alex and said, “Tell us what happened next.”

Alex recounted his run through the woods back to the house. He told them of his fall down the hill and how he watched Bryan Jameson emerge from the house with a bloody knife and blood all over his hands. He recounted Forrest chasing Rachel out of the house, of her clothes being ripped from her chest. Alex heard some soft crying at the point from the back of the courtroom. 

Every head turned to see Mrs. Morel weeping softly against her husband’s shoulder. Alex knew she was reliving her daughter’s experience, but he pressed on. He talked about Donald burning the barn down, about shooting Forrest as he readied himself to take Rachel and the shot that took Bryan in the stomach. When he finished recounting his near death at the hands of Donald, and Rourke stepping in to save him, Alex saw his hands were shaking and felt tears streaking down his face. Mr. Reed listened to everything and then let it sink in for a moment.

“Mr. Samuelson. Based on what you’ve just told us, it appears that you went home fearing the worst. I am sure what you saw must have seemed horrific at the time, but I think you reacted to the scene with a preconceived anger at these young men,” Mr. Reed said sternly. “Do you know for a fact that Bryan Jameson went into your house and killed your mother? Isn’t it possible he was defending her from another assailant? Did you yourself see him attack her?”

“N-no sir. But he -” Alex started.

“No you did not. And is it not possible that your sister was in fact interested in any perceived advance by Forrest Hawthorne, if there in fact was one? It is, after all, well known that they were seen talking many times,” Reed quipped.

“No! Rachel would never -” Alex tried again, but was once more cut off.

“Further, isn’t it more likely that Donald Jameson was trying to put out the fire, than that he started it? Donald was never a trouble-maker and his -”

“They killed my mom and tried to rape my sister!” Alex yelled, interrupting Reed, who visibly reeled back at the retort. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone but I wasn’t going to just stand there and watch! I swear I didn’t want to kill them. I just wanted to protect my family. Now Mom and Dad are gone and Rachel can’t even talk to me.” Alex let out the fear and sadness he’d been letting build up for the past week. His head hung down, supported by his hands, and he wept nearly uncontrollably. He whispered quietly, almost to himself, “What would anyone else have done?”

After a moment of silence, Judge Williams cleared her throat and said, “Mr. Samuelson, could you please repeat that.”

Alex looked up at her. Grief ringed his eyes no wet with tears. “I asked, what anyone else would have done in that situation? I didn’t want to kill them, I just wanted them to leave my family alone.” 

He could see Reed was pale with shock, obviously not prepared for the emotional onslaught Alex had unleashed. Alex saw that nearly everyone in the crowd was also reeling from the outburst, many of them wiping eyes. Some of them, Alex noted, were also staring furiously at Mr. Reed and few with open hostility at Mayor Hawthorne and the Jamesons. Even Judge Williams seemed angered, though more by the line of accusations from Mr. Reed than by Alex’s sudden retort.

“N-n-nothing further, your Honor,” Mr. Reed said quietly as he retreated to his desk. 

“Mr. Rourke, would you like to cross examine the witness?” Williams asked politely. Rourke smiled, nodded, and rose. He moved purposefully, but slowly, to the witness stand and gave Alex a private smile of reassurance.

“While Mr. Reed’s accusations are very convincing,” he began, though by the silence in the chamber Alex could tell no one agreed with that assessment, “I feel it is only right to examine the core issue at hand. Just as Mr. Reed judged Alex dishonest for venturing onto my property without permission, should we not also consider the possibility that the victims were also on private property without permission?” 

A general murmur of agreement from the crowd caused Williams to slam down the gavel and the chatter quickly ceased.

“I have here a restraining order, filed with the local police department, from Ms. Rachel Samuelson against Forrest Hawthorne. It was entered into evidence this morning and you will find everything here is in order, your Honor,” Rourke said calmly as he handed the judge a folder of papers.

“Very well, Mr. Rourke, continue,” she responded amicably after she briefly skimmed the contents of the folder.

“This restraining order was filed only three weeks ago, from a closed court. It is so recent, in fact, that it was only able to be entered into evidence this morning because it was only processed this morning. This restraining order reads, and I quote, ‘Ms. Samuelson has stated that Mr. Hawthorne has become violent on three separate occasions when she declined his advances. Ms. Samuelson fears for her safety in the presence of Mr. Hawthorne.’ The order continues by stating that deputies had informed Mr. Hawthorne that he risked arrest by approaching Ms. Samuelson in the future,” he finished as he slammed the folder down onto the table in front of the prosecution.

“I would like to present, with your Honor’s permission, the coroners report of the autopsy done on Mrs. Mary Samuelson,” Rourke continued stoically, though Alex noticed a slight heightening of his voice as he read Alex’s mother’s name. “Based on the findings of this report, it is clear that Mrs. Samuelson was viciously stabbed not once, not twice, not even three times. She was stabbed twelve times with the same blade. The blade was found at the crime scene, in the hand of Bryan Jameson, who was covered in her blood, not his own as the prosecution would have you believe. Now, in my experience, when a man enters a house not his own and is found holding a knife used to stab a woman over ten times and is covered in her blood, I usually don’t suspect self defense,” Rourke boomed. 

Several harsh laughs could be heard in the crowd, laughs that held no humor. 

“Your honor, based on the evidence present, I move for Alexander Samuelson to be cleared of all charges. I will face whatever deliberation is necessary for my role in this. I will tell you now I had no malice toward the victims, nor did I have anger in my heart or mind when I followed Alex home,” he finished.

“Why did you follow him then,” shouted the shrill voice of Mayor Hawthorne who had pushed aside he prosecutor as she approached the bench. Until now she had been utterly silent. “Why did you follow this murderer back to his home to help him slaughter our children?”

“Mayor Hawthorne, I am already inclined to agree with Mr. Rourke. Do not test my patience with this!” Judge Williams warned imperiously. 

But Rourke held his hand up and nodded, as if to say he would not argue with the mayor having taken up the prosecuting of the trial. He reached into his pocket and produced a small stereo speaker, the kind used to playback sound bites from a recording. He clicked play and the audio crackled to life.

“‘Just remember that when we get to the house you take care of Mama and Papa Samuelson. I’ll let you have a round with Rachel when I’m done with her’,” crackled the obvious voice of Forrest Hawthorne, just as Alex had remembered hearing it in the cornfield. Silence filled the courtroom as everyone stared in disgust the stereo in Rourke’s hands.

“I was a soldier once, Mayor Hawthorne. I never forgot that there are always enemies to peace lurking about. I’ve had security systems monitoring my property for years and that has been well known. I present my third piece of evidence,” Mr Rourke said, looking only at Mayor Hawthorne who looked to Alex like she’d been hit in the stomach. “I rest my case your honor.”

Before anyone could begin talking, Judge Williams rose and all eyes went to her. She looked out at the crowd with a mixture of sadness and fury. Alex barely noticed her clenched fists, curled so tightly that her knuckles became white. In even tones she addressed the rest of those assembled in the room.

“I have never jumped to a conclusion in my 30-year career as a Judge. I have always taken the time to deliberate on a case, to put aside emotions or gut reactions and look at the facts. Today, I’m afraid I will have to amend that fact. Based on the overwhelming evidence, I find the defendants, Mr. Randall James Rourke and Mr. Alexander Sage Samuelson, not guilty of the charges of murder in the deaths of Donald Jameson, and the deaths of Bryan Jameson and Forrest Hawthorne, respectively.”

Alex wanted to jump out of his seat and hug Rourke, but he kept his place as he saw the stricken look on Mayor Hawthorne’s face. The Jamesons seemed too terrified of the proceedings to fully take in the verdict as they simply stared at Judge Williams.

“You will never get away with this, you bastards,” Mayor Hawthorne said, a furious edge on her voice. “I will make sure everyone involved in this pays for what you’ve taken from me.”

“Mrs. Hawthorne,” Judge Williams said, an emphasis on the fact that she was addressing the mayor by her name rather than her title. “I urge you to cease this at once, or I will hold you in contempt of court.” 

Jeers from the crowd, who were now recovering from the verdict, indicated they agreed with what the Judge was saying.

“You owe me your career, Jeanine,” Mayor Hawthorne bit back, addressing the judge by her first name. “You say you serve justice, but you let these men get away with murdering my baby boy. I will not rest until I see each one of you run out of office and I will make sure I do everything in my power to do so.”

“Bailiff, remove this woman. Mrs. Hawthorne, you are in contempt of court!” Judge Williams yelled as she slammed her gavel down three times. The bailiff cautiously approached the mayor, who shrugged off his hands as he tried to lead her away.

“I will see you ruined, all of you. One day, when you least expect it, I will take everything from you. That’s a promise,” she said, before she stalked out of the room, the bailiff following quickly behind her.

“It’s over, kid,” Alex heard Rourke say. 

He also heard some cheers from the crowd. Alex looked at Rourke and nodded without even a smile. He saw the Jamesons were leaving, and were being given wide berth by the crowd who shied away from them as if they were diseased. He watched as Mr. Reed, disheveled and obviously nervous around the hostile crowd, retreated through the side door following Mayor Hawthorne. Judge Williams nodded to him, her face placid. The last face he saw in the crowd before he left the stand was the face of Mrs. Morel, who gifted him with a smile even as her family held onto her and her husband, the five of them weeping again, though Alex sensed it was more that the trial, and what Forrest had said on the recording, would help them heal from their loss.

“Time to go, kid. We need to get ready to say goodbye,” Rourke said as Alex left the witness stand.

“Say goodbye to who?” Alex asked.

“To your mother and father. I think they’ll rest better knowing you’re safe,” Rourke replied quietly.

Next Chapter: Ch. 4 - Goodbyes