Chapter 3 - The Accusation
Leo twisted beneath the judge’s heavy hand, his small fists clenching until his knuckles turned white as chalk. He stared straight up into the old judge’s stern, weathered face, his eyes flashing with a sudden, lethal rage.
"No!" Leo screamed directly into the judge's face, his voice echoing through the vaulted rafters of the courtroom. "You're punishing the wrong person!"
The audience in the gallery erupted into a wall of sound. Reporters scrambled from their seats, pencil leads snapping against notebooks, while the local townspeople leaned toward one another, whispering frantically behind their hats and gloved hands.
"Order! Order in the court!" the bailiff shouted, slamming his hand against the brass railing, but the chaos had already taken hold.
Clara Mercer dropped to her knees in the prisoner's dock, weeping aloud, her hands gripping her white bonnet. Her tears fell onto the cold floorboards, reflecting the gloomy grey light hattrickling through the windows.
Over the din of the crowd, Leo’s voice cut through the air once more—not as a cry, but as an absolute, terrifying decree that seemed to freeze the blood of every man and woman present.
"The guilty one is in this room!" Leo cried out.
Judge Sterling’s hand froze on the boy's shoulder. His jaw tightened, the color draining slightly from his thick, florid neck. "Bailiff, remove the child from the courtroom immediately. He is hysterical."
"I saw him!" Leo shouted, his small body shaking violently as he thrust his arm outward, his tiny index finger slicing through the dim light, pointing straight past the prosecutor, straight past the jury, and landing with chilling precision. "I saw whose hand pushed him!"
Every eye in the courtroom followed the trajectory of the six-year-old’s finger.
May you like
He wasn't pointing at Clara Mercer.
He was pointing at Judge William Sterling.
