Verdict.
The sheriff observed the courtroom, a resounding silence was present as the members of the jury and those who lay in the courtroom awaited the arrival of the judge. Meanwhile, the old Derek waited in his chair, without taking his eyes off the piece of wood that shaped that table so uncomfortable and so close to his chest that it suffocated him.
— How long will this last? —he asked.
— Be quiet, Mr. Lombert. —The lawyer replied.— He's coming...
People were standing before the arrival of the judge, hours had already passed since the beginning of that session that seemed to have lasted days, but however, only two hours had passed, enough to reach a verdict in such a particular case.
— Mr. Lombert, —said the judge.— please stand.
The old man repudiated the order of that man of the obese constitution who was watching him with a gesture of disapproval and after a slight sigh made the chair backward and he got up with a staggering that showed his state of drunkenness only at two o'clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday.
— The jury deliberated before the fateful action of which he is accused. —He continued— Could you tell me how you plead?
— Innocent.
The room was filled with noise and whispers among those present, the judge took the gavel and knocked several times against the table trying to put a little order before the reaction of all. It was evident the disagreement between them and the cynicism-filled answer of that old man who smiled from ear to ear without revealing the gaze of the judge's eyes.
— Mr. Derek Lombert. Faced with the crimes of which you are accused: rape in the third degree, use of prohibited substances and murder in the first degree, the jury has held that you are declared innocent.
The noises became louder and louder and louder, and in the back of the room, the screams of many people could be heard before the decision of the judge who struck his mallet again to try to bring order.
— This decision is made because there is no evidence directly linked to the defendant, who also has a strong alibi that disassociates him from the facts perpetrated against Ms. Sara Miller last January 23rd of this year.
— She was my unborn child! She was my daughter!
To his right, a Caucasian man was fighting against several officers to try to approach the old man in an angry explosion, however they were already taking him to one of the exits of the place leaving the plaintiff lawyer alone with a woman who cried inconsolably at the next table.
— Thank you very much, Judge.
The people began to retreat and with them, Derek Lombert walked towards the exit accompanied by several officers who tried to drive away the crowd that shouted and tried to hit him after that decision. Derek smiled without saying a word.
He started the car, crossed the seventh avenue and quietly headed north, out of the city, away from noise and society, to that old hut he used to visit on summer days. Just there, he turned off the car, got into the mackerel and closed his eyes taking a big breath of fresh air, just then he turned on the lights and laughed, laughed until he couldn't until he ran out of oxygen and started coughing.
— Fucking idiots! —he shouted.
After that, on the way to the kitchen, he had a short glass and poured himself a sip of whiskey without ice, went to the living room, sat on his leather sofa and placed an old record player, there, he looked at the front and at the light of an old candle he said:
— The problem with being a lunatic is not getting caught. The problem with a lunatic is that no one is good enough to catch you, right?
The sound of some old chains was present and several groans drowned out resounded to the sound of the music, in front of her, a young woman cried, bound and naked in the darkness. Once again, justice had not been present.
Once again, no one had been able to catch him.
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