William Monk 19 - Blind Justice

to the charge brought. In so doing he sabotaged the trial of a man who was devastated by these events, by the shattering of his trust, not in the friend who betrayed him but in the law that was sworn to try him justly—so devastated that he took his own life. Upon uncovering the evidence, Oliver Rathbone should have recused himself and stepped aside. You may think this would have caused a mistrial, and you are correct. Nevertheless, that is what he should have done.
    “I shall ask you to ignore your own feelings over the guilt or innocence of the man accused in that particular trial, and of anyone else who offered testimony in that trial. You must consider only the greater sin committed by Oliver Rathbone, who perverted the course of justice itself. Force yourselves to think, gentlemen, what refuge, what safety have any of us if the judges who sit in our courts cannot be trusted to be fair, just, and abide by the rules of the law that they are sworn and privileged to administer?”
    Rathbone’s heart sank. If he were in Brancaster’s place now he would be choked, all previous words gone from his mind. He watched as Brancaster rose to his feet. He ached for him, quite literally. His throat was tight, his chest suffocated for breath.
    Brancaster walked out into the center of the floor, addressed the judge, then turned to the jury. He did not sound self-important, an orator declaring a great cause. His voice was casual, a man speaking to a group of friends.
    “Gentlemen, if this case were easy, we might have disposed of it without taking your time and keeping you from your own business. But it is not simple. That is not to say that it is any whit less important than my learned friend Mr. Wystan has suggested. Issues of justice are atstake—greater even than he has implied to you. The difference between Mr. Wystan and myself is not in our belief as to how this issue lies at the core of justice for all of us, for you, for me,”—he spread his arms in a wide, oddly graceful gesture—“for every man, woman, and child in our country. The difference is that I will not merely tell you what occurred that was so desperately wrong, I will show you, step by step, and in such a way that you cannot mistake the truth.”
    He smiled so slightly it could almost have been a trick of the light. “I will not ask you to believe anything I cannot demonstrate. Nor will I ask you to reach a verdict other than what sits easily with your conscience, with your sense of the wellbeing of our country, and with the mercy we all wish not only to receive ourselves, but to extend to others. Listen carefully to the evidence.” He gestured toward the still empty witness box. “Imagine yourselves in the places of the people concerned, and then give thought to what you would have done, what you would have believed, and what, with wisdom and courage, you would consider to be just.” He inclined his head. “Thank you.”
    Wystan called his first witness. Rathbone was not surprised to see that it was Blair Gavinton. He mounted the stand looking serious and unhappy, which could be interpreted in several ways. The jury would see that the matter was very grave, and Gavinton was sad and disturbed that a man in Rathbone’s position had so abused the law. It would not occur to them that he was dubious about the prosecution or that he regretted this turn of events and would rather not be obliged to testify.
    He looked at them closely at last, the twelve men who would decide his guilt or innocence. He was used to reading juries. He had spoken to them often enough, watched as they weighed his words. This time it was different. It was he they were judging, and he could say nothing.
    Most of them looked to be about his own age. They were in their best clothes, as solemn as if the jury box were a church pew. Only two of them were looking back at him, with curiosity, skin puckered and eyes narrowed, as if trying to focus. A juror farther along had a white beard hiding his expression. Rathbone could judge nothing.
    Gavinton swore as to his name and occupation, and to the fact thathe had been the lawyer for the defense in the case of Abel Taft. When prompted by Wystan, he also gave a list of the principal witnesses for the prosecution and then for the defense.
    It had been a case of moderate public interest. Many in the gallery might have attended, and that would be the reason they were here now. To the jurors the name, at least, would be familiar.
    “A