“Your Honor. The defense is convinced that, given the entirely circumstantial nature of the scant evidence presented, there is more than reasonable doubt concerning the defendant’s involvement in the case.”
“The court agrees with the defense. If there are no further objections, I shall now hand down the verdict.” The judge stopped briefly, eying the prosecuting attorney, then continued. “I hereby declare the defendant, Bush Beat, not guilty.”
The judge’s horn lifted a gavel from in front of him and struck it against its spot on the podium. After the dull wooden knock, the courtroom erupted in chattering as everypony shuffled towards the exit.
Bush Beat let out a sigh of relief and gave the defense attorney a grateful, albeit despondent nod. The lawyer nodded back before turning to leave the courtroom as well.
Hours later, Bush Beat arrived back at the Manehattan hotel. At this late time of day the lobby presented itself very much devoid of commotion. As he stepped through the front entrance, the pony manning the reception desk looked up and mustered for him a practiced smile. “Good evening, sir. How may I help you?”
Puzzled, Bush Beat tilted his head. “Huh? Hello? I work here.”
“Oh,” the earth pony mare behind the desk replied, blinking and dropping her fake grin. “You’re... Bush Beat, right? I thought you left weeks ago.”
“Left?!” Bush Beat responded indignantly. “I didn’t leave! I was in police detention all this time! And I’m innocent!”
“Well,” the receptionist shrugged, “either way, you don’t work here anymore.” She picked up a pen and shifted her attention towards some paperwork that she had evidently been busy with before Bush Beat entered.
“I want to see the manager,” Bush Beat demanded.
“I’m sorry, Bush Beat, but we cannot employ you anymore,” the manager explained, sitting across the table in the staff backroom. “That incident a few weeks back has given us some rather bad press. We cannot take the risk of employing somepony who may be connected to the murder.”
“Connected?” Bush Beat burst out. “I’m innocent! I was acquitted! I just got back from the trial!”
“But you do have a criminal record. And you don’t have your cutie mark despite your age. Clearly the work here isn’t your special talent. Ponies are asking too many questions. I’m afraid there is nothing I can do for you,” the manager declared with finality.
Bush Beat’s head dropped as he sighed. Dejected, he turned to leave the room, and soon afterwards, the hotel.
The soft evening air did feel and smell familiar. Darkness hung over the city with Luna’s full moon hovering in the blackened sky. Homelessness was never easy, but at least it was something he was used to. Bush Beat walked across the road and into the direction of the park where he had spent many a cold and warm night in the past.
Passing by an alley on the way, he heard a quiet voice. He slightly turned his head with curiosity, but didn’t stop walking. The alley was completely dark, almost as if the street lighting had been set up so as to neglect that specific part of the city. Not even a vague shape could be discerned.
All of a sudden, a pony jumped out of the black and landed right in front of Bush Beat, forcing him to freeze in paralyzed shock. Not a second later, a solid pair of hooves dug themselves painfully into the side of his body, yanking him harshly off his legs and onto the asphalt. Then he felt a heavy blow to his head, and he was cast into complete darkness.
“Name: Bush Beat. Accusation: murder. Evidence: one witness testimony, plus hoof prints at the crime scene.”
As Bush Beat gradually came to, the voice of a stern, determined pony entered his consciousness. She mentioned his name, and not in a friendly or sympathetic tone. His head still throbbing, he decided to remain motionless and listen to what was being said about him.
“Silver Slither,” one pony said, inserting themselves into the discussion. “One witness? Is that really enough for a solid case here?”
“The accused,” Silver Slither explained, “was seen entering and leaving the hotel room that is the scene of the crime. No other pony was seen entering or leaving the same room. Forensic analysis has confirmed the hoof prints at the scene were his. Furthermore, there are no other suspects.”
“Do we have a motive?” another mare enquired.
“The accused is no stranger to crime. We have a copy of his criminal record right here. Two cases of petty theft and one attempted unarmed robbery.”
A chill went down Bush Beat’s spine as memories of those times flashed into his mind. Being a homeless stallion in Manehattan, he was occasionally desperate enough to find no other way to survive. He always knew this was going to come back to haunt him, even after promising himself to put an end to this type of activity, and he really was innocent this time.
“As usual, the proposed punishment is death. We will now take our vote.”
“Guilty,” a voice said without hesitation.
“Guilty.” The voices were going around him, each accusation sounding more crushing than the previous.
“Guilty.” “Guilty.” “Guilty.” The voices had come full circle.
“The decision has been made. Justice will be served.” Silver Slither took a deep breath. “Prepare the killing spell.”
The words hit Bush Beat like a hammer to the chest. There was no hint in any of the voices that any of their words may turn out to be a prank or in jest. They were serious. This was real. They were going to kill him.
He decided to open his eyes, jump to his hooves and intervene. Wasting not a second, he immediately turned to the direction that Silver Slither’s voice had been coming from. As it turned out, the grey unicorn mare was already staring right back at him. In the periphery of his vision, he could tell that all the ponies were fixated on him. He stood in the center of a dark room with no windows, lit only by a firefly lamp.
“I’m innocent! You’ve got the wrong pony!” Bush Beat pleaded, but the ponies surrounding him remained unmoved. “Please... don’t kill me... please!...” he stammered, as the other ponies began collectively casting a spell on him. Rays of energy shot from their horns and into the center of the room, like the spokes of a wheel, culminating in an aura engulfing Bush Beat, illuminating the room for mere seconds. Finally, Silver Slither added a ray of her own, and then a luminous blast briefly blinded everypony. The magic settled and Bush Beat was gone, leaving a star-shaped patch of scorched ash on the floor.
“It is done,” Silver Slither asserted, before they all moved to leave the room through its only door.