THE HAND OF LADY JUSTICE – PART 1

I gasped as I was unceremoniously pushed onto my knees in the centre of the town square by one of the men who had arrested me from home at the crack of dawn. I faced the Constable and the four Council members seated on the old, but sturdy mahogany bench, that had outlived several generations of Nalia townsfolk. 

The people who had gathered to watch the mayor’s murderer get hanged felt like a target on my back, deadly and ready to attack at any moment.

Nalia’s town square was an open space in the heart of the 1000-person town, typically used for large events such as festivals and competitions. The massive oak trees the third mayor had championed over fifty years ago formed a shady fence around the square, blocking off some of the sunlight streaming into it. 

Through the haze of anxiety and the gripping fear engulfing my exhausted body, I tried to figure out a way out of my predicament. Opening my mouth, I tried to cry out my innocence once more, but no sound came out, which was just as well. Nobody would hear me over the jarring sounds of the crowd screaming for my head. 

“Murderer! Murderer! Hang her!”

Nobody cared if I was guilty or not. The Constable needed a scapegoat to pacify the townspeople, and the town needed a face to blame and punish for the untimely demise of their esteemed mayor. My heart thumped wildly against my chest, the beating so loud that I suspected that they could hear it over the cacophony of the angry mob. I was almost certain they could smell my fear as well, and like vampires, it fed their thirst for my neck. 

Holding up a beefy hand, Constable Gregory, who also doubled as the town judge, called for silence. As always, the buttons on his brown, uniform shirt were fighting for dear life, strained across his wide chest and bulging stomach. He was an intimidating man, stern-faced and bald except for the few wisps of greying black hair that peeked from the sides of his cap.

When the crowd continued to shout, he pulled his rifle from his side and shot into the air. There was a moment of panicked confusion before they got the message, and silence blessedly reigned. However, I barely had time to enjoy the reprieve before the Constable turned to me. 

“Sali Grey, you have been found guilty of killing Mayor Tom Anderson in cold blood and will serve justice by the noose. What do you have to say for yourself, woman?”

‘Woman’ was bitten out with enough derision to convey the Constable’s unfavourable opinion on my gender, which had nothing to do with the accusation at hand. There had been no trial, and I had been given no opportunity to defend myself before I was pronounced guilty. 

“I didn’t do it!” I sobbed, my gaze darting from one member of the Council to another, hoping that at least one of them would believe that I was incapable of murdering the mayor who had been my employer for the past five years.

A sudden bright ray of light from the sun momentarily blinded me, forcing me to look away temporarily. Given that the weather had been gloomy and wet for the past two weeks, the clear, sunny weather that day felt as if the universe was also celebrating my impending demise. 

“You were the last person to be seen going into the house, and you were the only person with enough access to be able to poison the mayor!” Patty, the mayor’s secretary, snarled from the bench where the Council was seated. 

Patty and I had never gotten along, so I decided to focus on the others on the Council who might be less biased toward my plight. Apart from Patty, who was a woman in her forties, the other three were men in their sixties.

I looked away from the members of the jury to fix my gaze slightly upward in silent prayer. I was not a keen believer. Too many tragic events in my life had leached out most of the faith my parents had instilled in me as a child. However, at that moment, I prayed for justice. 

My attention was jostled back to the situation at hand in panic when the angry crowd began to demand a lynching.

A lynching in the 20th century? I would have scoffed if my situation wasn’t so dire.

In so many ways, this town was backward and stifling, and I couldn’t wait to escape as soon as I managed to survive my current ordeal. As an only child whose parents were snatched by death’s icy fingers at the age of twelve, I had no notable family I would miss. My Aunt Bertha and her family had barely tolerated me when they were forced to put a roof over my head and feed me. It was a relief for all of us when I secured the position of Nanny for Ara after my nineteenth birthday. Ironically, the head of the family that had welcomed me with open arms and given me a reason to stay in this cursed town was the very one I had been accused of murdering. 

“Silence!” the Constable boomed again. This time, the courtyard was blessed with quietness immediately, save the chirping woodpeckers who were otherwise unbothered by his intimidating voice.

“I am innocent. And as I have been a good citizen of this town, I plead for a chance to defend myself,” I cried out.

“And why does a woman who murdered the most important man in town deserve a trial?” he demanded in a voice laden with disdain.

Did he not hear me the first time? I did not murder anybody! 

My gaze, meek and sorrowful, landed on Old Man Tongo. Of all the members of the Council, the old librarian was the only one I judged might operate with some sympathy and objectivity. 

“Please. I deserve a trial,” I pleaded some more.

My instincts were proven right when he finally spoke up. 

“Gregory, perhaps we should give the young lady a chance to defend herself.”

The Constable sputtered, not expecting that. “I don’t think it’s necessary. We have enough evide– “

“Tongo is right, Constable. Let your witness come forward and give the young lady a chance to defend herself. Hanging is a serious matter, after all. And like she said, she has been a good citizen.”

Shocked, I raised grateful eyes to the oldest of the Council, Toby Red. It occurred to me then that there were more fair people in my town than I had given it credit for. 

Patty and Max Bann, the last Councilman, were not happy with their benevolence. However, the two most influential men on the Council had spoken, so they had to listen.

Puffing his round cheeks, the Constable turned back to address the crowd.

“The mayor was found slumped on his desk at home last night by his secretary, Ms Patty Cole, who had passed by to check on him. He had missed all his meetings and was not returning her calls.”

Patty wept quietly as the Constable recounted the events.

“She alerted us immediately, and after the initial check on the body, the doctor ruled the cause of death to be poison. Ara’s fatal accident just a few days earlier had left the mayor with a heavy heart and he wanted to be alone.”

Ara. My Ara.  

I forced myself to remain calm and keep the tears at bay. 

The Constable paused, wiping dramatically at his dry eyes. “There was nobody else in the house with the mayor at the time, as he had given the staff some time off while he grieved the death of his only child. After a brief but fruitful investigation, we found a witness who saw this woman—” he pointed at me accusingly”—going into the house the day before. She was immediately arrested, as she was the only one with access to the house within the time frame. She was also caught by a witness entering the house.”

What? How could someone have seen me going into the house the day before?

After the Constable quieted down the excitable crowd again, I asked calmly, “May your witness please step forward? I would like to cross-examine them in my defense.”

He looked uncomfortable at my request and didn’t speak. 

“Gregory? Let your witness step forward,” Old Man Tongo prodded.

The Constable reluctantly whispered to one of his assistants to fetch his witness while we waited in apprehension. When the witness was led into the Square ten minutes later by the harried assistant, I understood the Constable’s previous hesitation. It took everything in me not to laugh hysterically. I was going to be hanged on the testimony of the town drunk who barely remembers his way home most nights.