//------------------------------//
// The Trial of Ned Dracone 
// Story: The Trial of Ned Dracone 
// by Wisher 
//------------------------------//


~ The Trial of Ned Dracone ~



~ by Wisher ~




Written as an entry for Prompt 4 on the Author Support group on FiMFiction.



~~~~


I am a remarkably intelligent and strong woman. Sitting down at the prosecutor’s bench, Tanya Scintillate told this to herself one more time, as if she could never convince herself enough that it was true. She sat in a formal posture, with her back straight as an arrow as she gathered up her papers in neatly stacked piles before her, ready to be used in the trial ahead.

She had a face that bore a permanent expression of seriousness and composure, reflected in the sharp gaze of her eyes. She had long, straight brown hair that went down her back and over her forehead in a perfectly cut fringe. Her hair had two singular streaks of violet and pink running across a few strands from tip to tip. She liked to think that they were a testimony to the fact that despite her stern and studious personality, she had a sense of style and grace. It was one of her chief concerns. 

Tanya was indeed a woman of elegance. Her beauty lay not only in her attractive physique, but also in her character. She was known for the traits she possessed and which made her a first-rate prosecutor. She had an unyielding spirit of responsibility, nerves of steel, and a drive to make sure that justice was meted out both against its abusers and for its demanders. Anyone who had talked to Tanya Scintillate for even five little minutes would tell you she was the most reliable person you would ever come across. She also had the brains to go with the job, being able to memorise and put to good use a mind-boggling amount of laws and other rules or protocol elements, in their most precise terms and appropriate context. This had to be credited to her curiosity and trademark passion for thorough, meticulous studying.

I’m the best at what I do, she thought to herself. She had handled many cases before. Some of which had ridden on terribly high stakes, forging her reputation and skill as a lawyer of excellence. Today’s case in comparison would be an easy win to add to her spotless record. Some nut who had burned down the school at which he worked, probably under too much pressure. Ridiculously easy.

Then why was she so nervous?

She couldn’t really put her finger as to why she had a knot in the pit of her stomach regarding this case. And yet, she had somewhat of an idea.

It was because the accused gave her such a bad case of the creeps.

She shot a nervous glance at him. He was sitting opposite her behind the defense’s bench next to his defense attorney -- a man by the name of John Snail, that Tanya knew to be an average attorney, which compared to her was a mediocre level. She reminded herself of that fact for reassurance.

The man she was looking at was the defendant. Ned Dracone. This was a man who looked to be about forty years old, and whichever way Tanya looked at him, she was disturbed by his unusual looks. She figured anyone would be. She couldn’t decide on which of his features was the strangest. Was it that he had a skin complexion of stone grey? Or that his eyes had red pupils? Surely those were red-tinted lenses. That had to be it. No one had naturally red pupils, right?

Then there was his hair. It was a large bushy yet stylish mess, split equally in two colours; the hair at the back of his head was jet-black, while the front part was as white as the purest snow. He had bushy eyebrows and a slight goatee.

There was something very peculiar about Ned Dracone. Despite all of these unnatural features, one would have to look twice to notice them, for Dracone seemed to have arranged them so that they didn’t blatantly strike out as the bizarre works of his genes. Everything about him screamed bizarre, and yet he wasn’t the kind of person you would instantly notice in a crowd.

That didn’t stop Tanya from being unnerved by this man. Behind his look of utter boredom, there was an eerie sense of calm and control to him, like a deranged criminal devoid of a soul. The trial had not started, and even though he seemed to ignore her presence, already she felt in the middle of a game of wits that sent a shiver down her spine. Why was it he had such a disturbing aura about him? She started wondering if perhaps they hadn’t been mortal enemies in another life...

Readily, she snapped out of it, and sat straighter in her place. Come on, Tanya, that’s just stupid. She decided that she would not let herself be overrun by this creepiness, and use it to her advantage to point out the felon that he was.

Still, she almost jumped when the voice of the judge broke the austere silence of the courtroom.

“Bailiff, let the public enter,” he said.

The bailiff obliged and opened the doors for the waiting crowd outside the courtroom to enter.

Many people hurriedly fled inside in a low tantrum of shuffling feet and excited chattering. Tanya looked at the people in the crowd as they took place in the bleachers around the courtroom. Some of them were journalists, pen and paper at the ready, eager to take down the happenings of the trial for their respective newspapers. Most members of the crowd, however, were underage high school students. They all seemed very confused and keen to know why their history teacher Mr. Dracone was probably going to end up in jail. Tanya wasn’t used to such an audience, but she figured that it was normal given the facts of the case. She was slightly relieved to see that she wasn’t the only one on whom Dracone made an impression. All the students were eyeing him and whispering amongst themselves. From what Tanya could overhear, she gathered that they would never have thought Dracone capable of what he was accused of doing.

There was a moment of waiting as all the members of the crowd were seated and the whispers died down. When silence was restored, the judge spoke.

“Now, then. Court is now in session for the trial of Mr. Ned Dracone. The court will now hear the opening statement from both parties, starting with the state, represented by Ms. Tanya Scintillate.” He turned to Tanya. “Ms. Scintillate, your opening statement, please.”

Tanya nodded and got up from her bench, walking slowly towards the jury panel. She was now the center of the room’s attention, and she was aware of it, but she was well used to that by now. All eyes were on her, except Dracone’s, who was studying his fingernails.

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of the jury, allow me to state that today’s case is, by no means, a complicated one,” Tanya began. She pointed to Dracone. “For it involves a man who is nothing more than a simple criminal. That man is Ned Dracone. A history teacher at Cloudsdale High, he is accused of having set fire to the premises yesterday. A fire which tore through most of the school’s building, leaving all the young students you see gathered here today, and many more, with a huge gap in their precious time for education that may never be filled.” She had a fleeting thought that she might be making a personal statement here, and that for most students a surprise week of holidays would actually be the upside to all of this, but she brushed it away. The idea was to expose Dracone as much as he deserved -- which for Tanya, when it came to a crime against knowledge and culture, was as much as possible.

“Some of you might be wondering how come Mr. Dracone has been arrested so swiftly. Some of you, on this basis, might question the defendant’s guilt and be led to believe that the police were rash in their actions. These are all reasonable doubts, under the normal circumstances.” There was a low murmur from the crowd, and the members of the jury exchanged a few glances. Tanya raised a finger and the attention was brought back onto her.

“But I assure you, ladies and gentlemen. These are no ordinary circumstances. Not when a man burns down a school in the middle of day. Not when it is full of children. Only the most wicked person would even consider such a heinous deed. And today, the prosecution shall expose Mr. Dracone for the heinous individual he is. Thank you.”

There was a stir among the audience. Most of the journalists present were familiar with Ms. Scintillate’s skill at prosecuting, and noted as the members of the jury turned to each other with aghast expressions, that it was still as sharp as ever. This was going to be a piece of cake for her. She’d made sure to instantly kill the major flaw in her case, which was the arrest of Dracone prior to any thorough investigation by the police. He’d had a preliminary hearing that had led to this trial. He pleaded innocence, but it was established that he was at the scene, and showed some very suspicious behaviour. That was all they had heard, and Tanya made sure that it was all they needed to hear. A few grins spread across the faces of the journalists at the thought of the cool story they were going to publish.

All eyes turned to Dracone, a hundred indignant glares shooting straight at him. Throughout Tanya’s opening statement he sat in a relaxed position, arms crossed behind his head and nodding slowly and thoughtfully.

The judge nodded. “Thank you Ms. Scintillate,” he said. “The court will now hear the opening statement from the defense, represented by Mr. John Snail. Mr. Snail, if you would,” he said, turning to the defendant’s bench.

John Snail got up and went to the jury panel. Tanya gave a tiny grin as she saw signs of uncertainty about him like a hesitant walk and excessive blinking.

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed members of the jury,” he began, “I’d like to introduce you all to my client. He is a man to whom life has been strange, giving him traits that no man should have to bear. He is a teacher of high school level History, and an exemplary one according to my reports. So let me ask you this, ladies and gentlemen. How much pressure can one man take? Earlier today my client confided in me that he has been the subject of severe abuse and cruelty his entire life because of his unique looks. And as you can see, my client is starting to become an old man. Think of all the aspirations he might have had... only to be crushed by the odds of nature and the intolerance of man! To become a middle-class high school teacher? To be surrounded by children much like the ones who humiliated him throughout his youth? I assure you, ladies and gentlemen; my client did not burn down his workplace, the only place where he was accepted among the staff. Ms. Scintillate is ready to claim that he did. Well, I’m claiming that she is just another person who cannot look past his monstrous appearance to see the remarkable man that is Ned Dracone. If she is ready to lock him up on some mindless basis of  fear, then the defense is ready to fight for the freedom Mr. Dracone deserves. Thank you.”

John Snail’s declaration was followed by an awkward silence. There was no stir among the audience like the one following the prosecution’s declaration. 

At the prosecutor’s bench, Tanya kept a stoic expression that betrayed no reaction to the defense’s claim. But on the inside, she was struggling not to burst out laughing. If there was such a thing as textbook disastrous legal defense, John Snail was definitely its spokesperson. Tanya could spot a fatal error in each of his sentences. The biggest one, which he’d repeated a few times, was giving a poor image of his client from the outset. Maybe he wanted to introduce Ned Dracone as a kind old geezer who just had it rough, but from what he said it sounded like he was a bitter old loser who had a ‘monstrous’ appearance, so as to quote the lawyer himself.

Snail, you dork. What were you thinking? Tanya thought, mentally sniggering at her opponent’s poor display. She knew that her thought was shared with the majority of the room, as she saw the jury looking unconvinced. In the bleachers the journalists were exchanging worried glances and a few smirks. The teenagers present were looking at Snail with puzzled faces, unsure if they’d just been called cruel brats by the lawyer or not.

Tanya felt good. She felt much more relaxed as the uncertainty she’d been feeling by looking at Dracone was being slowly replaced by confidence in her ability to win the case. She would just break the defense’s poor excuses of an argument one by one and call it a day. She looked to Dracone to see if he was also aware that he was now up to his neck in it.

The old teacher was looking around the bleachers with a little smile, nodding here and there to the familiar faces of his students, who returned his salute nervously. He then set his eyes on Tanya. He looked at her dead in the eye. After a second he gave her a small nod as well, with a smile.

Tanya’s nervousness returned to her somewhat. That creepy smile and piercing gaze of his red pupils were not good for her. She felt disturbed, but not so much that her resolve to put him behind bars faltered.

“Very well, thank you Mr. Snail,” said the judge. He turned to Tanya. “Ms. Scintillate, your first witness please.”

“The prosecution would like to call the defendant to the witness stand,” Tanya replied.

There was a general wave of surprise in the courtroom. This case was full of young witnesses, and she was going for a face-to-face approach with the defendant? Tanya was usually not this bold, preferring to gather a few solid testimonies before going in for the kill with evidence. But today, she knew she would need very little of either.

The judge turned to the defense bench. “Will the defendant please come to the witness stand?”

There was another wave of whispering among the crowd as Ned Dracone, escorted by a bailiff, was brought to the witness stand. As he sat down at the stand to the judge’s left, the bailiff made him swear to tell nothing but the truth, as was custom in courtroom procedures. Dracone politely accepted to do so.

“Ms. Scintillate, your witness,” said the judge.

Tanya walked to the witness stand, her step ever so slightly hesitant as she approached the dreaded defendant. She looked at him coolly, and he looked back, with a polite smile.

“Please state your name and profession for the court, witness,” said Tanya.

The man gave a small nod and spoke into the microphone before him.

“My name is Ned Dracone. I teach history at Cloudsdale High School,” he said in a clear voice. He spoke in a tone that was far too calm given his current situation. Even his voice is creepy, thought Tanya.

“Mr. Dracone, can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Why did you plead ‘not guilty’ at your preliminary hearing?”

Dracone shrugged.

“Well, I believe in my innocence, quite simply. I hold my freedom dear.”

“Do you now?” asked Tanya. “Because the way I see it, there’s an overwhelming amount of evidence against you.”

Dracone took his gaze away from Tanya, and set it to somewhere over her shoulder. He seemed to be looking for something at the prosecutor’s bench. Tanya was about to turn around or ask him what he was looking at, when Dracone slumped back in his chair with a sigh, his lips tugged at one corner to indicate disappointment.

“Shame,” he muttered.

“What’s wrong?” asked Tanya. Dracone looked back at her.

“Oh, oh nothing,” he said casually. “It’s just... well I’ve heard a lot in the past days of this critical ‘evidence’ that you have. Especially at the preliminary hearing. But it wasn’t brought out then, so I’d hoped to see it today, but... it appears you haven’t brought it with you. Pity.”

“Well, rest assured, Mr. Dracone,” replied Tanya, unfazed. “If you want to see the evidence of your crimes so badly, I got it for you.”

“Yes, ready to be brought out at the right moment, I suppose,” replied Dracone. “But I wonder... When that is? You’ve had a whole hearing to contradict my plea.”

Tanya chuckled in contempt.

“Well,” she said. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen a defendant this eager to be sentenced. But let me tell you, Mr. Dracone, I have this evidence you want to see so badly right here.”

“Yes, and I have yet to see it,” replied Dracone, a cooler edge to his voice now.

Tanya looked at him, visibly shocked by the defendant’s cheek.

“Excuse me, just who the hell do you think you are?” she asked indignantly.

There was a murmur of unrest in the crowd following the prosecutor’s bold statement. Tanya was not known for outbursts like these. The journalists were definitely going to get a field trip out of this trial. 

“Objection!” John Snail called out as he shot out of his seat, “This is unacceptable badgering of my client!”

“Granted,” said the judge with a nod. “Ms. Scintillate, please mind your language and stay on topic. This is a court of law, you should know better.”

Tanya sighed. She should have known better indeed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That was unnecessary.”

She turned to Dracone, who looked back at her with a tiny smile. He gave a small nod towards his attorney.

“Best defense in the west,” he said, winking at Tanya.

She felt suddenly infuriated at Dracone’s comment. She would not be mocked any longer. Trying to keep a straight face, she returned to the prosecutor’s bench to fetch a few papers.

“Alright, then,” she said. Returning to face Dracone, she spoke. “Let’s go over the facts one more time. You were found on the premises by men of the fire department on the morning of the arson, inside the still burning building no less. Do you acknowledge this fact?”

Dracone nodded. “Yes, that’s right,” he said calmly.

“It also states here on this testimony I have by the men who escorted you out of the building that you were found on the first floor of the building, near classroom 113. Is that correct” she asked.

Dracone nodded once more. “That seems about right,” he replied.

Tanya grinned at his reply. It had worked.

“Funny,” she replied with confidence. She took another paper from her bench. “This is an official statement from the forensics team who took a look at the burnt-down building. According to them the fire was started by a match thrown onto a pool of gasoline. Precisely in classroom 113. Isn’t that a funny coincidence?”

The response from the surprised crowd in the courtroom came in the form of loud and excited chattering in the bleachers.

Dracone was apparently unperturbed. He merely grinned at Tanya. “Why yes, that is strange!” he said mockingly. This only served to increase the unrest in the courtroom.

“Order! Order!” yelled the judge, banging his gavel.

Dracone stopped grinning and looked at the judge in an expression of pain.

“Ah...” he said, wincing. “I don’t like that word...”

“W-Wait!” said Snail. “This doesn’t prove anything! My client could have been anywhere in the building at the time of the fire! He just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when he was found!”

The commotion in the bleachers died down as the judge nodded.

“A valid point,” he said. “Ms Scintillate, this court is going to have to see some stronger evidence of your case.”

The audience turned to Tanya. She was still smiling confidently.

“The prosecution is prepared to offer such evidence,” she said.

Instantly the interest of the entire courtroom was piqued.

“Mr. Dracone,” continued Tanya. “The same firemen have testified that you were found not only near the classroom which has just been established as the origin of the fire, but also carrying a tank of gasoline with you.” She turned to him. “Is that something you usually carry around with you, Mr. Dracone?”

To this he laughed. Tanya couldn’t tell if he’d deliberately ignored the sarcasm or not.

“Can’t say that I do,” he chuckled. “Especially not when I’m walking through a burning building.”

“I didn’t think so,” said Tanya with a hint of irritation to her voice. “But more to the point, they said the tank was half empty when they took it away from you. Now, the forensics report I have here also states that about half a gallon of gasoline was spilled to the ground to start the fire. Because of this, forensics got curious when they heard about the gasoline tank you had. And guess what? They found out that it was missing just about half a gallon of oil. Relative to its total capacity... That’s about half the tank.”

Tanya moved closer to Dracone, staring right into his crimson pupils. If he was feeling under any pressure, he was very good at hiding it. The same could not be said for everyone in the courtroom, where a heavy silence hung in the air. John Snail was sweating bullets, watching along with everyone else as Tanya put the final nail in his client’s coffin.

“I wonder where all that gasoline went, don’t you?” asked Tanya, her voice barely above a whisper. Dracone grinned at her.

“Now I know that’s a rhetorical question,” he replied with calm.

Tanya turned to face the jury.

“So you see, ladies and gentlemen, what facts stand proven before us. The defendant was present at the scene of the crime. He was found right next to the place where the fire was started. He was also carrying a tank of gasoline that was missing the exact same amount of gasoline that was used to start the fire -- and I should mention that forensics found his fingerprints, not only in the handle, but on the bottom of the tank as well, as if having tilted it to pour out its contents. What is more, I have testimonies by members of the fire department stating that Mr. Dracone’s attitude upon being found was too suspiciously calm for a person in the middle of a raging fire. For the prosecution, there is no room for interpretation or doubt; the evidence in my possession clearly points to the defendant as the unquestionable author of this arson. I believe that the defense’s cross-examination will only prove to establish the motive behind Mr. Dracone’s crime. Thank you.”

The audience members started whispering among themselves, as well as a few of the jury. There was a climate of conclusion surrounding the general discussion. Everyone could feel the trial coming to a swift close, and that this was the end for Dracone.

Tanya was content with her work, but then again she expected no different outcome. She was about to sit back and relax at the prosecutor’s bench when Dracone spoke.

“Is that all?”

The courtroom fell silent at Dracone’s words, whose altogether too calm behaviour had earned him a natural presence in the room. Tanya looked up in mid-sitting with a surprised expression.

“Well... yes, yes it is.”

Dracone let out a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh dear, no, this just won’t do...” he muttered to himself.

“Well, the guilty only get what comes to them Mr. Dracone. Perhaps you should've thought of that before you tried to set these children on fire.”

“That’s not what I meant,” replied Dracone. “What I mean is that I expected much more of a challenge from the great Tanya Scintillate.”

Everyone in the courtroom looked to each other in confusion. Slowly, Tanya got up and returned to the witness stand. She looked at Dracone and asked him the question that none dared to say out loud.

“Mr. Dracone... Do you know where you are? Or what’s going on?” she said. The tone of her voice almost reflected empathy, as if she was asking that question to a lost little child. Dracone sat up straighter in his chair.

“Well, I think so...” he said in a tone of mock perplexity. “I think I’m in a courtroom?”

“You think so?” asked Tanya in irate confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dracone dropped the act and looked at her straight in the eye with a smirk.

“It means that, to my understanding, a courtroom is a place where prosecutors who want to convict the defendants on trial present decisive evidence of their wrongdoing. Apparently I was wrong, since everyone here is ready to lock me up without the shadow of any such evidence.”

Before his comments could instigate a wave of agitated discussion in the bleachers, Tanya spoke.

“Look, we’ve been over this,” she said in fatigue. “You wanted to see what proof I had, and I’ve introduced you to my perfect evidence.”

“Perfect?” Dracone scoffed. “There is a word for your evidence, my dear, but it is not ‘perfect’. Nor is it ‘decisive’, ‘unquestionable’ or even ‘foolproof’. No, that word is... ‘circumstantial’”.

Tanya looked at him, nodding slowly as if she’d just understood something important. “Oh really now?” she said sarcastically.

“Yes, circumstantial,” Dracone said, nodding back. “You have an array of compelling facts and pieces of evidence, to be sure. But let me ask you this -- no, in fact, let me ask the judge.”

He turned to his right and looked up at the judge.

“Have you seen a single of evidence up until now that proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that I lit the fire that burned down Cloudsdale High, your honor?”

Everyone turned to the judge.

“Well... Well, no, I haven’t,” he replied with hesitation. “However, Mr. Dracone, the facts are clearly demonstrated, and I have no reason to believe you aren’t the culprit.”

Dracone sighed.

“Well, that’s a great shame. Because evidence, facts, hunches... all of those things are very nice, very nice indeed, and they go a long way. But all in all, the only thing that amounts to anything in a trial is the truth. And the truth shines through with decisive, and I mean truly decisive evidence. I’m saddened to see that all you lawyer types claim fervently that you live up to this creed, and yet you shun it shamelessly before me, the defendant. What a sad sight to behold.”

In just a few minutes, the tense atmosphere that had clouded the courtroom earlier had returned. Dracone’s words carried no genuine sadness or indignation. He simply spoke as if casually stating a fact. And it was all it had taken him to turn this trial upside-down to his advantage. Up in the bleachers, the students were all staring wide-eyed and confused at their teacher. This wasn’t the Mr. Dracone they knew who was always shy and known to have too little authority over his students. This was a madman.

Tanya and the judged stared helplessly at him, both struggling to find a response to his undeniable argument. John Snail simply looked at them both, livid like a man around whose neck the hanging noose had snapped as the trapdoor of the gallows flew open beneath his feet.

Dracone himself was the first to break the silence, making everyone jump.

“Well,” he sighed, “We could go on like this for hours, talking about the finer points of our legal system. So why don’t we just cut to the chase and I tell you why I did it?”

The level of attention of the people in the courtroom soared. Especially for Tanya.

“So you admit your guilt?” she asked hopefully, divided between relief and anxiety.

“Oh, goodness no, I have no guilt to admit to. Once again you misinterpret my words,” he teased. “This carelessness is unbecoming of you, Ms. Scintillate.”

“What are you getting at, Mr. Dracone?” asked the irritated prosecutor.

“Now, see here,” he replied. “All of this evidence you have, all of my suspicious behaviour... I mean there’s a fire going on and I just walk into the police’s arms with a smile and a tank of highly inflammable gasoline in my hand. And you never stopped to wonder, not for a second, if maybe there was a little more to this case than what meets the eye? Hell, if I knew you would be so unsuspicious, I would’ve put a box of matches in my other hand.”

There was a moment as Tanya pieced together Dracone’s words.

“... Are you saying you wanted to be caught?” she asked incredulously. Dracone nodded.

“Yes. I didn’t start the fire. I merely set myself up for the fall.”

“But why?” replied Tanya? “Why would you purposefully take the blame for this? You know you would be going to jail, right?”

Dracone stopped grinning, and stared into space with a thoughtful expression.

“Why indeed?” he said. “Any normal person would never put himself in this jeopardizing situation.”

Dracone edged himself closer to the front of the witness bench.

“But as you can see, I’m no normal person. It’s just like my lawyer said. I had many great aspirations when I was young. But I guess life just intended me to be a high school teacher.” He looked upwards thoughtfully.

“All these old dreams I had...” he said. He looked back at Tanya.

“All my life I’ve been bastardized by the disgraceful looks I was given. I can’t help them, of course. But try explaining that to people. Everywhere I go, in the street, at work... I get second glances from everyone. And you know what I think? I think about the unambitious lives they’ve led... Everything’s given to you when your looks are alright, isn’t it? All these people, who could have done so much if they tried to reach out for the stars like I did... I see them end up in the same hole as me. And still, they are quick to judge me on trivial things, like they’re all clean and smell like roses down in this shithole.

“And so I thought about it. And I figured... If you’re going to have a chaotic exterior, why not have a chaotic soul to boot? Everyday’s the same for me, you know. I get up, go to work, try to teach things to these kids even though neither of us cares about them. I swear, I can see them staring past my words at my gray stone-washed skin. And then one day... what do you know? I go to work and the whole place is on fire. People running, screaming, everyone losing their senses... Chaos, chaos everywhere. My mind snaps. I want to feel something for once... The warmth of the fire and their panic through my veins... I want to be the one who’s in the middle of all the action.

“And so I go in the building. I find a tank of gasoline laying around, probably abandoned by the arsonist. I walk about. The flames are lapping at my clothes, but do I care? I am alive, and what do I have to lose? The thrill, Ms. Scintillate, the excitement of being one with the raging flames as they reduce the establishment to rubble... There was something made of cold stone crashing down all around me in a dance of embers, but for once, it wasn’t me.

“I saw a few firemen turn a corner to face me. They stared at me. Their horrified expressions, carefully clad by the thick layers of oh-so-precious protective clothes they were wearing, made me feel as if I were invulnerable. They all grabbed me and pulled me out of there in a tantrum of incomprehensible yelling, like a bunch of animals. I let myself be taken, because everything fun has to end at some point, you know.”

Dracone opened his arms to the crowd who was staring incredulously at him.

“And that’s the whole story, ladies and gentlemen. I staged myself to be an arsonist because I wanted everyone to stare at me, not in fear like always, but in creepy admiration. It sounds pitiful, but I have no shame in admitting it. I have thrown all my restraints at sea. And I may have been arrested. But on that day... I knew freedom.”

The atmosphere in the courtroom had definitely changed. Every person present who thought that the trial would end with Tanya’s cross-examination now knew that it was far from over. 

Tanya herself stood bewildered and conflicted in the middle of the courtroom. On the one hand, she felt a strange sense of empathy for Dracone. He seemed to have gone through a great ordeal in his life. But on the author hand, she had learned to be very cautious when dealing with witnesses’ heartfelt testimonies. She had no proof that what he said was the truth. Even though it made a terrible amount of sense.

“I... Well, I’m sorry that you’ve had it so rough, but...”

She was at loss for words. She wanted to tell him that he hadn’t offered definite proof of his innocence himself; but she could feel that the audience had changed their mind somewhat and was now inclined to agree with him. Saying that he was just conjuring a likely story in his defense would be unwise and might make her look like a heartless person in the eyes of the jury. She would definitely lose him then.

Dracone shrugged.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to understand any of that. Not you, Tanya Scintillate.”

Tanya was intrigued. “How so?” she asked.

“You might think that I want to escape from this. That I would give anything to be like you, a normal person gifted with great intelligence.”

He grinned at her.

“But how wrong you would be. I have no desire to be gifted... For I have seen what living comfortably does to people. And you are a prime example.”

“I worked hard to become the prosecutor I am today. You shouldn't assume that just because you feel disabled by your condition, everyone else has it perfectly easy and doesn’t know any hardships,” Tanya replied. There was no more hesitation or empathy in her voice anymore, as she felt a little irritated by Dracone’s comments.

The defendant nodded. “Perhaps, perhaps...” he said. He then turned to Tanya with a grin.

“But the only thing I assumed is that a top-notch prosecutor would make sure to have irrefutable evidence of the defendant’s guilt before even stepping into the courtroom. And let’s not forget who the prosecutor of the day is today. Tanya Scintillate... I heard you’re quite the thorough person, always keen to learn and study, and that you use your cleverness to shine the beacon of the law onto those who abuse of it. And yet, look at you now... You came prepared, all right. Prepared to lose the first case of your career, but I bet that’s one thing you didn’t see written in your books.”

Tanya was outraged by what she was hearing. She expected the crowd to react and cry out, or at least for the judge to threaten Dracone of being held in contempt of court. But no one made a move, even though she could see everyone was as torn as she was between condemning Dracone or letting him slide and forgive him for the life of prejudice he’d been made to suffer. No one knew anymore whether to love him or hate him.

“What are you getting at?” she almost yelled, making him grin maliciously.

“I see it in you, just as I see it in all the people who think they’re worth so much more than the rest. Knowledge, power, good looks... everything runs on wheels for you. But all these gifts cloud the mind with arrogance. You have all this clout and ability, Tanya Scintillate, every finger of guilt points to my direction... Meanwhile, you don’t have the tiniest little thing to prove that I am actually guilty of anything, because you went so fast and with such confidence in your plans that you flew right over that thought. You see? Add in a small element of chaos, and it all crumbles to dust for your carefully crafted success.”

Something dreadful was creeping up on Tanya. She realized that her perfect case was beginning to fail her like a cancer, shutting its vital organs down one by one. He was right. She was so close, and yet so far from victory. She was powerless.

In the tense silence of the courtroom, Dracone let out a high-pitched giggle that made everyone gasp.

“But listen to me!” he said gleefully. “Listen to me rambling on and on about my miserable existence like a martyr, oh dear, oh dear. No no no, this won’t do at all! I sense that my ace attorney over there grows bored, and would like his share of the trial!”

“Mr. Dracone,” said the judge, looking at him skeptically, “do you want to be cross-examined by your lawyer?”

Dracone looked back at the judge with a relaxed grin.

“I believe Mr. Snail has a trick or two up his sleeve.” He turned to Tanya and gave her a wink.

Tanya was livid. 

He hadn’t started the fire. He’d just made it look like that. He’d planned it all out, and led her exactly where he wanted. Right into his trap.

This can’t be happening... I know he did it! I just know!
	
If she lost this case, it wouldn’t just be a setback. Dracone’s view of her as an arrogant know-it-all would stain her.

I have to prove it... somehow...! I...
	
She ran through everything she knew at full speed. 

“... Ms. Scintillate?”

She was drawn out of her trance by the judge’s voice. She had shut out the world around her in panic.

“Do you have anything to add?” he asked.

She had nothing. Not a glimmer more of evidence. Nothing at all.

With a weak, quivering voice, she spoke.

“...No further questions,” she said.

Dracone closed his eyes and smile triumphantly, as Tanya shamefully returned to the prosecutor’s bench.

“Very well,” said the judge. He turned to the defense attorney. “Mr. Snail, you may proceed with the cross-examination.”

Snail got up from his seat.

“Actually,” he said, “the defense would like to call a new witness to the stand.”

There was a wave of surprised whispering in the courtroom. In the intense showdown between Dracone and the prosecution, everyone had forgotten about the possibility of a third party involved in the case.

“Really now?” said the judge. “Very well then, who would you like to call?”

“The defense would like to call a student of Cloudsdale High who has expressed his wish to testify about the incident at today’s trial. He said he had information of great importance.”

The judge nodded. “All right,” he said. “Thank you Mr. Dracone. You may return to your seat.”

Dracone did so, followed by the eyes of the entire courtroom.

“Bailiff!” shouted the judge. “Please go fetch the defense’s witness in the waiting lobby.”

There was a moment of suspense and discussion as the bailiff disappeared behind the courtroom doors. After a moment, he returned with the witness.

He was a young teenage boy. His pale face was sullen behind long thin strands of jet-black hair, which bore little colored strands of emerald green here and there. He wore a hoodie as black as his hair, and walked to the witness stand with his hands tucked in its pockets. The judge thought that he looked like one of those ‘emo’ kids he had heard about.

The young man looked straight in front him with apathy as he sat down at the witness stand. John Snail got up and went to him.

“Witness, please state your name and occupation for the court.”

“My name is Alvin Stevens,” said the teenager, almost mumbling into the microphone. “I’m a student at Cloudsdale High.”

“Mr. Stevens, you told me earlier that you had some information to share with us today about the fire at your school.”

Alvin nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Because I’m the one who started it.”

The entire courtroom skipped a heartbeat at the witness’s statement. Even John Snail, who didn’t know about this.

“Are... Are you sure?” was all he could think of a question to ask.

Alvin took something out of his pocket and showed it to the court.

“This is the box of matches I used to set the place on fire,” he said. “You’ll find my prints on it, and that the match type is consistent with the one that forensics think caused the fire, or whatever. This is proof that I did it.”

The audience and jury held their collective breath. Tanya’s panic increased.

No...

“Are we to take this as a formal admission of guilt, Mr. Stevens?” asked the judge.

Alvin shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Snail was bewildered. This was too good to be true. “But why would you do something like that?” he asked.

“‘Cause I needed to,” muttered his witness. “I gotta lot of hatred and darkness in my soul. At least that’s what people tell me. And I guess it’s true, y’know. I was just tired of all the old folks and asshole kids bossing me around at school. Just thought I’d send them all to hell. But I failed. I thought that at least if I went to jail I wouldn’t have to see everyone’s stupid face anymore. Mr. Dracone’s also a jackass, but I dunno... Wouldn’t feel right that he goes to jail for nothing while I have to stand everybody else around me.”

Nobody spoke for a while. Then the judge nodded and spoke.

“Very well,” he said. “Bailiff, please take this young man into custody for the time being.”

Alvin was escorted out of the courtroom, showing no reaction whatsoever to the prospect of spending a few years in prison.

“This court will now take a one-hour recess while the jury deliberates its verdict in the wake of the new evidence and testimonies we have acquired,” he declared. “Court is dismissed.”

He banged his gavel, and everyone slowly crept outside of the courtroom in an awkward silence.


* * *


The last recess had been the longest hour in Tanya Scintillate’s life.

She waited painfully along with everyone else once the court had reconvened. The judge took place at his desk and banged his gavel.

“Court is now back in session for the trial of Ned Dracone,” he declared. “This court will now hear the result of the jury’s deliberation.”

Everyone turned to the members of the jury panel, holding their breath.

A woman from the panel nervously got up with a paper in her hand of which everyone was dying to hear the contents of, good or bad.

“On the charge of premeditated arson, this jury finds the defendant, Mr. Ned Dracone...”

Her voice was shaking as she spoke nervously. She couldn’t really believe what she was saying. She looked at Dracone. He was slumped on his chair, looking at her with a small, confident smile.

“... Not Guilty,” she finally said. 

The fateful words echoed like gunshots in Tanya’s head.

All the people in the bleachers got out simultaneously, discussing amongst themselves excitedly in voices that were no longer hushed. Everyone was more or less shocked by the outcome of the trial. The journalists were all jubilant, however; this was going to be the judicial scoop of the year.

“Court is dismissed,” declared the judge with a bang of his gavel.

John Snail shot out his seat and shook his client’s hand fervently. He just couldn’t believe his luck.

“Congratulations Mr. Dracone! We won!” he said, beaming at his client.

Dracone returned the handshake. “We?” he replied casually, “I don’t recall you ever defending me, chump.”

Snail’s wide smile disappeared, and he looked at his client as though the latter had slapped him across the face. With a large, friendly smile to his lawyer, and a wave of his hand goodbye, Dracone walked proudly out of the courtroom as a free man, struggling calmly to get past the crowd of journalists assaulting him in a frenzy of questions and camera flashes.

As the talkative audience descended from the bleachers, the conversation died down for those who walked past the prosecutor’s bench. They looked at Tanya with a fleeting glance.

At the prosecutor’s bench, the young woman was cradling her head in her hands, staring wide-eyed and helpless at her wooden desk.

It was over.

She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs. She knew the law, but today it had failed her. She couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe it. Dracone was a liar. She didn’t trust him. And he’d slipped past her fingers as a criminal. She knew it in her heart to be true, and to hell with the evidence.

She wanted to scream, and rip the entire room apart. But what could she do? It was over.

She’d lost more than just a case.


* * *


In the corridor of the courthouse building, the sound of hard shoes stepping on the marble tiles of the floor could be heard. Two policemen were walking down the corridor. In between them, Alvin Stevens was walking, partially dragged along by the two officers who were each holding one of his handcuffed arms. They’d taken his deposition, and were going down to their car parked outside to carry him to the precinct where a cold cell would be waiting for him.

“Damn kids,” muttered one of the policemen. “Once they’re hormones get rushing, they start to do some crazy shit with whatever they got. Got a kid just like this one. I’ll tell my wife to keep the matches away from him, now.”

The other man chuckled. Suddenly he felt the young man he was escorting start to walk slowly and doubling over slightly, slowing the three of them down.

“What’s the matter son? Guilt gettin’ to ya?” he teased, pulling his arm to make him keep up the pace.

“No it’s not that,” replied Alvin with the same gloomy tone he’d taken during the whole trial. “It’s just... I really need to go the bathroom.”

The two policemen looked at each other skeptically.

“Come on, man,” winced the teenager, tightening his legs together. “I got rights!”

One of the officers sighed. “Alright then,” he said. “There’s a bathroom over there. But we’re coming in there with you, so no funny stuff, got it?”

Alvin grunted as a response. They reached a public bathroom and went inside. Alvin went to an empty cubicle and locked the door behind him. The two guards went to either side of the cubicle door. “Make it fast,” said one of them.

They waited for a while for the young man. After a moment, one of the men spoke.

“Well, I’ll tell you one thing, that was a crazy trial,” he said.

“I’ll say,” agreed the other. “Look at that Dracone guy. Everybody thought he’d done it. Everyone was against him. And what does he do? He points out that there’s no real proof against him, and bam! The prosecutor’s undone. That poor gal is in for a hell of a bad ride now, I’ll tell ya that.”

A cubicle three spaces to their left opened up. The two officers looked at it. From inside came out a policeman, tugging at his trousers and putting his belt back in place. He turned to the two guards, and gave them both a brief nod of salute. The officers didn’t recognize him, but curtly responded with a nod of their own as the third officer walked out of the bathroom.

They both looked back in front of them.

“That old guy may be innocent... But he gives me the creeps,” muttered one of the policemen.

“I know, right? If there’s a face to being guilty it’s definitely that guy. Wouldn’t put my kid in his school, that’s for sure.”

The other guard gave a snort of laughter. It then occurred to him that Alvin was taking a long time in the toilet behind them. He turned and knocked on the cubicle door.

“Alright pal, time’s up,” he said. “Give it a shake and let’s go.”

There was no reply from behind the door. The two guards gave each other a puzzled look.

“C’mon, open up, or we’ll break the door down,” said the other man, knocking again at the door. There was still no response.

“What the hell...” he muttered. “Kid I’m gonna count to three and if you’re not outta there by then I’m busting that door down, you hear?” he said only to be unanswered.

“One... Two...!”

There was a tense silence in the bathroom. The counting officer took a breath and shouted.

“Three!”

With a powerful kick from each of the two men, the door crashed out of its hinges. Both of them stared in complete shock at what they were seeing. The cubicle was empty.

Their convict had vanished.


* * *


The policeman who had walked out of the bathroom was now walking under the sun in one of the biggest streets of the city with a stoic expression on his face, which would be common for a police officer. He was thinking that if he wasn’t mistaken, his destination should be coming up on his right soon.

He spotted a few feet away a break in the row of tall buildings to his right side that gave out to an alleyway. He went there and took a look at what was there. In the shadows, a man with grey skin was waiting for him.

He stepped into the alleyway, and Ned Dracone got closer to meet him. When they were face to face, the policeman suddenly combusted in large green flames. This would have startled anyone, but not Dracone. He knew what was going on.

A second later the flames died. The policeman was gone. In his place stood Alvin Stevens, exactly the same as how he’d left the courthouse bathroom.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Then Dracone gave a hearty laugh and shook his head.

“Oh, Alvin,” he chuckled, waving a finger in the air like an old teacher lecturing a ne’er-do-good student. “You sneaky, sneaky changeling, you. I knew you’d find a way to get out of there.”

“Whatever, man,” cut in the teen rudely. “Just give me the money.”

Dracone dropped the act and sighed audibly as he took out a large bundle of dollar bills, flicking through them with a finger. “Oh, youngsters these days,” he muttered, “they don’t respect their elders anymore, such a shame...”

He took out part of his bundle and handed it to Alvin who took it. Immediately he counted them himself.

“There’s 2,000 in there, as per our agreement,” said Dracone.

The teenager finished counting the bills and tucked them into his pocket. Dracone was about to leave when Alvin spoke.

“Why’d you do it?” he asked.

Dracone turned around and gave him a smirk that was somewhat eerie.

“I don’t need to tell you why,” he said.

“You kinda cheated that prosecutor in there,” remarked Alvin. “She was right all along. ‘Course I don’t care, but telling her all your bullshit about being oppressed and--”

“I didn’t lie,” replied Dracone in a low hiss. For the first time, he sounded genuinely serious. Alvin could swear he saw the old man’s eyes glint in a streak of bright, furious red. It was startling, but he hid his discomfort.

“Everything I said in there was the truth, boy,” continued Dracone. “Every motivation I have is the same. I meant everything I said and you better believe that.”

“But why go through all of this? Being caught for the trial, paying me to hold the matches and be found guilty just so you could be free? Why not just run away?”

Dracone took a step, edging himself right into Alvin’s face who was struggling not to lose face and step back.

“Because everyone...” started Dracone. He then squinted his eyes and held up his index and thumb, crooking them and holding them close to each other. 

“... Needs just a touch of discord,” he whispered.

Alvin said nothing, staring at the old man with an expression of disgust.

“Whatever, man. You’re a creep,” he said.

Dracone shrugged.

“Fair enough,” he replied. “At least I’m not a bug.”

Alvin shot him a glare before walking away, disappearing into the alleyway.

Satisfied, Dracone stepped out into the large street. He started walking home. It was a beautiful sunny day. And tomorrow would be even brighter. He thought of his work colleagues, that he would meet at a staff meeting that was planned to discuss their future now that their workplace had been burnt to the ground. He thought of the warm welcome they would give him, greeting him and giving him all their heartfelt apologies for the inconsiderate way he’d been treated in the past.

Fools.