Killing Fear

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Theodore Glenn sat at the defense table alone, hands loosely folded in front of him, watching the jury foreman hand the bailiff his fate written on a folded white card. The bailiff in turn handed the paper to the judge, who looked at it without comment or expression.

Theodore wasn’t concerned, confident that he’d won the jury over. He was a lawyer, after all, and not just any lawyer: a rich, successful one. So of course there was no one better to represent Theodore Glenn than himself. The fact that it took them four full days to deliberate told him there were several jurors who had reasonable doubt. If the verdict didn’t come back not guilty, the jury would be hung.

He looked at the jurors, keeping the contempt off his face.

Pathetic people, all of them. Barely living, meandering through boring, mediocre lives, obeying authority, doing whatever Big Brother orders them to do. A jury of his peers? Hardly. The IQ of all twelve combined didn’t match his.

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