Member-only story
My First Murder Trial
It was a little after 1 o’clock, and the Mississippi sun was at its peak. As we walked along the oak shaded sidewalk, it occurred to me, I had never paid any attention to the Courthouse before. As we stood in front of the staircase, leading to the portico, I had to stop and admire her. The towering columns, the overwhelming height of the building, the original Federal style bricks, hidden by the Colonial Revival remodel, the fortitude… A grand building, with such a somber appointment.
As we made our way to the grand entrance, her beauty quickly faded. I pulled gently on the door handle, and quickly realized how heavy it was. With a stronger pull, the door heaved open, and the hall’s chilling air engulfed us. A cold shiver went down my spine.
As directed, we opened the courtroom doors quietly, set our eyes on the ground before us, and walked quickly to the balcony seating. Once we were settled in, I began to survey the courtroom. My eyes went to the Judge first, as she was the commanding force in the room. From there, I went to her left, and noticed an attorney, sitting a few steps below the Judge (my first of many “this isn’t like TV” realizations).
From there, I saw a well-dressed boy. He did not appear to be a relative of the victims or defendants, so I was left confused at his presence in front of the courtroom.
