I stood tall and still, waiting.
Guilty, my mind chanted. Guilty, guilty, that man is GUILTY! It's written on him like ink on paper. Evidence is there, SEE IT. He's guilty. Guilty, guilty . . .
The judge sighed as I stared at him. He shuffled papers, adjusted his glasses, and otherwise fidgeted to kill time until he absolutly had the give the verdict.
"As judge of this court and this case, it is my duty to hereby proclaim the deffendant, Natsuhiko Takamura," he paused. I could see the discontent and regret in his face. Clearing his throat, the jusdge continued, "The deffendant is inncoent by court of law."
Rising from his high backed chair, he turned from the protests of all those gathered for teh trail. I sighed. I knew this was going to happen anyway. Takamura was obviously quite wealthy, despite his attempts to look poor and unkept, not to mention his hot shot lawyer who seemed to think himself king of this world.
Returning my files to my bag, I turned and watched a guilty man walk free, a smug look on his face. A hand fell on my shoulder, and I turned to face the baliff. There were tears in the young man's eyes. I felt my cheeks flush with anger and despair, but there was no way in hell I was going to shed even a single tear, not after all I've worked for.
"I . . . I just wanted to say thank-you . . . for trying at least." He cast his eyes towards the floor. "You did more than most and it . . . its good to know there are still good people out there."
As he lifted his face again, I realized who I was talking to. The name escaped me, but I knew him to be the brother of a young woman murdered by Takamura. I paused for a moment, then leaned forward and gave him a hug. After, he gave me a small, sad smile. "Thank you," he whispered, then turned and disappeared through the door after the judge.
I buttoned my jacket, grabbed my bag and walked past the few straglers who had hoped for justice. Sighing, I walked out the front door and down the steps, heels clicking. Reporters were gathered around Takamura. Bastard, I thought. You're just loving this, aren't you? Rot in hell . . .
Suddenly a woman screamed, and I turned to see Takamura holding a female reporter, his thick arm wrapped tightly around her neck. Before I, or anyone else, could move, his fdace distorted, turning a bright red. He gagged, and not a second later, blood began to stream from his lips and nose, dripping down his chin. It poured from his ears and eyes as he retched and finally collapsed. The reporters went wild, cameras flashing and even the hostage reporter was yelling into her microphone.
Not possible, I decided to myslef. There's no way in hell. Its either some complication of anemia or lukemia, or a hemmorage. How is that possible? I've kept tabs on his activities since arrest . . . There's no way in hell!
I rubbed my forhead and continued towards my Volkswagon. There is a way, I silently admitted. Only one way. KIRA has returned.
