William Bernhardt - Capitol offence

The sun was just beginning to rise in the east, toward the TU campus and beyond. There was a low-lying mist hugging the ground and the rays of the rising sun were just beginning to cast an orange corona over the horizon. Spectacular. The city was waking. Cars trickled onto the main arteries of traffic. A few lights were lit in the tall downtown skyscrapers. Shifting shadows played in the niches and corners of the rooftops, changing by the second in the rising light. A few muffled sounds of the city in springtime reached his ears, but it was still mostly quiet. Peaceful. Despite all the life he knew was teeming around him. All the good-hearted people. All the families, the lovers, the children, all involved in their own lives and all a part of one another's, fitted together like glittering tiles in a huge beautiful mosaic. This was when he loved Tulsa best.

"Boo."

It had barely been more than a whisper, but he still jumped almost a foot into the air.

He turned to see Christina in her pink nightie, smiling at him, wriggling her fingers.

Ben took a deep breath. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"I don't know. Have you paid the life insurance premiums?"

"I could have fallen off the edge of the roof!"

"I would've caught you."

And she probably would have, too.

"Having trouble sleeping?" she asked.

"Good work, Miss Marple. You shouldn't be up. You need your sleep."

"Like you don't? I'm pretty sure even Daniel Webster occasionally got a good night's snooze."

"Not during a trial."

"He did. Regularly. Never missed a wink. Snored through the night. And he went up against the devil."

"I know the feeling."

"So come back to bed."

"It's pointless. I won't sleep."

She scooted closer and put her arm around him. "You're worried, aren't you?"

"I think I have good reason."

"It won't help anything. The trial is over. There's nothing more you can do. It's in the jury's hands."

"That's a terrifying thought."

"Only because you start to panic anytime you have to rely on someone else."

He gave her a dismissive frown, even though he knew she was mostly right. "You yourself have many times said that juries are unpredictable."

"All the more reason not to beat yourself up worrying about it."

"You think Dennis feels the same way?"

Christina sighed heavily. "I think that just because one person is undoubtedly in misery doesn't mean we all have to be."

"He's suffered enough."

"I agree, Ben. But there's still nothing we can do. You should learn to meditate. It would be good for you."

"Ugh."

"It's not healthy, the way you take these impossible cases and obsess over them. I know you're trying to help other people but… honestly, sometimes I wonder if it's a good thing. For you." She sighed. "Come with me to my class tomorrow night."

"I don't need to meditate."

"No. Clearly you already have achieved nirvana."

"It won't help."

"You'll learn how to breathe."

"Been doing it for years."

"You'll learn how to clear your mind. See things in perspective. Improve your life."

"Sitting cross-legged on a mat is not going to improve my life."

"You can't know that until you've given it a try."

"I can." Ben watched as the municipal garbage trucks pulled away from their central station and dispersed into the city. He saw joggers huffing and puffing down the street, the air still so cold they could see their breath. He spotted teachers pulling into the neighborhood school parking lot, embarking on another day of molding young minds. There were so many good people in this town, so many who genuinely cared about one another, who would go the extra mile to help someone in need.

That was why he had gone to law school. Why he'd chosen the life he now led. He had made enemies and seen many negative headlines, but he had also made many friends and seen so much kindness. He had a wonderful life and he knew it. He should be able to focus on that. That should be enough.

But no matter how much he tried to convince himself, his mind always moved in another direction.

"Have you ever thought about it?" he asked.

"Thought about what?"

"You know. What you would do in a similar situation. If something happened to me."

"You mean if you were left trapped and suffering in a car for seven days because the police wouldn't get up off their butts?"

"Yeah."

"I don't have to think. I know. I'd do the exact same thing, except I'd do it the first day and I'd use a bazooka."

Ben smiled. "And then claim temporary insanity?"

"And then claim justifiable homicide."

"You'd go to prison."

"It would be worth it." She grinned a little. "What about you, you hopeless romantic, you? What would you do?"

"I-certainly wouldn't be happy."

"Oh, not so much emotion, Ben. I'm going to swoon."

"But murder? I don't think I could ever do that. Under any circumstances."

She wrapped herself around his arm and pulled him close. "I know that, sweetie. I wouldn't want you to."

"I know that, too."

They both fell silent. They stared out for a long while, watching the city arise.

"We have a good life," she said.

"It's because of you."

"It's because of us, you silly." She kicked open the portal door. "Come back to bed."

"I can't sleep."

"Who said anything about sleep?"

His head tilted to one side. "Scrabble?"

She gave him a long look. "Yes, that's it. Scrabble. You goat." She rolled her eyes and descended the ladder. "The things a woman has to put up with…"

"You're sure you haven't heard anything from Loving?"

"I'm sure, boss."

"Not even a hint? A disconnected call?"

"No." Jones handed Ben his mail. "Not a coded letter. Not a message in a bottle. Not a cuneiform tablet etched in ancient Sanskrit. Nothing." He pushed away from his station, juggling phones and files and messages all at the same time. "What were you expecting? The trial is over."

"I know. I just… hoped. That he'd call in with something."

"Ride in with the cavalry at the last minute and save the day?"

"I never said the day needed saving."

"You didn't have to."

The front door opened and Christina sailed into the room-then tripped. Her briefcase fell to the floor and skidded across the tile floor.

"Whoa there." Ben ran to her side and helped her back to her feet. "You okay? You seem a little unsteady."

"I didn't get much sleep last night."

"I'm sorry."

"I wasn't complaining." She glanced over at Jones. "Any word?"

"No."

"Have you talked to Dennis?"

"He's standing by. Wringing his hands. Worried sick. Do you blame him?"

"No. I don't. Talk about torture."

The phone rang. The three of them stared at it. No one moved.

Ben made a small cough. "Jones, I believe this is your job."

Jones picked up the phone. "Hello?" He listened for a good long while, then put down the receiver.

"And?"

"The jury has reached a verdict."

Despite the fact that every single seat in the courtroom gallery was filled, there was a strange silence as they waited for judge and jury to return. Even with all the reporters in the rear, each of them eager to hear the outcome and relay it to their masters, there was a pronounced funereal atmosphere.

Ben couldn't help but flash back to his nightmare, his mental horror movie. With himself essaying the role of the executioner.

"They were out a long time," Dennis said, wringing his hands. "What does it mean when they're out a long time?"

"It means they're out a long time."

"So there must have been some disagreement, right? Like at least one person believed what we said."

"It's possible."

"And it only takes one, right?"