Majority Verdict

'I will accept a majority verdict', the judge said with a sigh after the jury had failed for the umpteenth time to reach a consensus. 

He had made copious notes during the trial and listened attentively to all the depositions and although the defence lawyers had made feeble attempts to undermine the evidence by objecting to every little point -
'M'lud, I must protest at the line of questioning of my esteemed colleague....', et cetera, et cetera, -
he had concluded that the prosecution had proved their point without any doubt .

He had been in similar situations during his time on the bench, when an awkward individual had disrupted the smooth process of the law, and understood human fickleness, but surely this lot could not fail to see that this was an open and shut case .

One only had to look at the accused in the dock, with his sinister appearance and sinister looks, to realise that he was as guilty as hell.

So he did not understand why the jury was having such difficulty in arriving at a decision.

He had rehearsed in his mind his summing up and one statement that he was least likely to make was:

'You will leave this Court without a stain on your character.'

Once the foreman of the jury pronounced the inevitable 'Guilty' verdict, he would proceed
to deliver his favourite homily:

'You are an evil man and a danger to society and it is the duty of this Court to protect the
law abiding citizens of this community from the likes of you. You will therefore....'

He harked back to the good old days when he would have donned a black cap before spelling out the man's ultimate fate.

But the world had become so politically correct that not only had the death penalty been abolished, but he had to be very circumspect whenever he expressed an opinion.

Of course he had spotted the troublemaker among the jurors; it was that redhead with fuzzy hair. She was the nig...
He stopped in mid-thought and racked his brain for a more acceptable word. She was the 'subversive' in the woodpile; that's it, that what she was.

He had noticed a look of disbelief on her face as she frowned and listened to the witnesses. He guessed that she was the dissenting voice which had prevented a unanimous verdict.

The heated arguments about the culpability, or otherwise, of the accused were still raging inside the room where the jurors had been cooped up for what seemed an eternity.

The foreman, still wanting a hundred per cent agreement even though the judge had indicated that he would consider a majority decision, was trying to convince the vociferous objector.

Yet she was not going to be easily deflected from her stance.

'But don't you see', she was saying, 'it's all circumstantial. Take his alibi for instance; he
could not prove that he was in Sheffield when his wife was murdered, but neither could the Police establish that he was anywhere near the scene of the crime. Also there were no fingerprints, no weapon. So where is the proof?'

'Yes, but what about the insurance policy on his wife's life taken out only a week before her death?', rebutted the foreman, 'Isn't that a strong motive?'

'It would be if it could be demonstrated that it was him who actually made the application, but according to the insurance agent it was a woman who arranged everything over the phone and the premium was paid with a banker's draft, so nobody can trace who made the payment. It could have been his wife for all we know.'  

'I know he is innocent, it's not just a woman's instinct.' She added defiantly in a desperate attempt to sway the other members who had been watching the skirmish between the two with bored indifference, anxious to bring the proceedings to a close.

'I believe we have exhausted all the alternatives', the foreman stated with finality, 'let's have one last vote.'

A hush had enveloped the entire Court, everybody waiting with bated breath for the forthcoming deliberation.

As he heard the single word that determined his fate, the defendant stared vacantly,
into space with an uncomprehending look.

The ginger-haired juror's eyes were fixed on the man in the dock as if trying to communicate her thoughts telepathically to him.

'I am sorry, my love, I tried my utmost to save you but did not succeed.I was too much of a coward to tell them the whole truth, which would have exonerated you. That I was the perpetrator of the crime; that you were in the dark about my actions and that you really were in Sheffield, were I had sent you on a fool's errand to get you out the way. And the insurance policy was also my doing, to give you some financial security once that dominating bitch was out of the way.

But you were a coward too, afraid of leaving the woman who made your life a misery. You left me no choice, so you must share my guilt.'

© Luigi Pagano 2020