Derpy Saga pt16 (Trial)

>The courthouse towered above Brad's head as he approached the doorway.
>The mahogany doors swung open as he stepped through the threshold.
>A bright, stinging light blinded him, rays of light bouncing off the polished floor of the courthouse foyer as the crowd parted for him.
>A thousand eyes glared at him, tracking his every step.
>Their heads turned together like a flock of pigeons, their eyes filled with scrutiny.
>The suited men and women parted, clearing a path for the angry snake slithering through their group.
>His heavy footsteps ringing through the foyer, a large pair of dark doors opened before him.
>The crowd piled behind him, forcing him into the next room; Brad was powerless to stop their advance.
>He had no choice but to lead the sheep inside, the crowd filing into the audience pues of the courtroom.
>Brad continued on, pulling out a chair and taking his seat at the defense table.
>The crowd murmured behind him as the doors opened once more.
>Two officers stood behind a short, teenage male.
>His face was sour, almost apathetic as he was escorted to his seat.
>The crowd hissed and hollered at him as he stepped into the light.
>Norman stood defiantly in front of the Lady Liberty statue, glaring at her from under his brow.
>The officers pushed him to the defense table, sitting a couple feet from Brad.
>Brad was about to say something but was reminded that is was forbidden by the court for the witnesses to speak before their testimony.
>The prosecutors took their seats and the crowd was hushed as the bailiff came inside.

>"All rise for Judge Redd."
>The court obediently stood up as the robed man in a powder wig approached his bench.
>The judge signaled the court to take their seats as he took out his documents.
>The hot air of the court room hung over Brad as the opening statements were issued.
>The entire prosecution was a deplorable attack on Norman.
>A majority of the prosecution's arguments were filled with ad hominem and strawman, targeting Norman's character and social life more so than presenting facts.
>The judge however, listened intently, as did the jury.
>Of course half the jury were women, who the prosecution was no doubt banking on to vote guilty regardless of the facts presented.
>It was a simple appeal to emotion, one that made Brad feel sick.
>He was forced to listen to his exploits, every detail of his "devilish acts" recounted to him with startling accuracy.
>He was surprised to find that while four rapes had been reported before his arrest, only one was able to attend the trial.
>When asked why the other three couldn't appear before the court, the prosecution told him that two of the victims, >Shimmer and Rose, were mentally incapacitated, while the other, an unnamed girl, dismissed the charges.
>Brad had a hunch who the girl was that dismissed her violation.

>The one who did testify was Mrs. Christie. Her testimony was brutal, emphasizing how the rape had destroyed her. She testified that she fell into a state of disrepair, a disheveled husk of her former self.
>The judge and jury were entranced by her story, but Brad could see right through her.
>She looked around the room, never looking the prosecutor or defense attorneys in the eye, and her comments were mostly attacks on Norman's "racist attitude".
>The prosecution rested, all the evidence presented and examined.
>It was the defense's turn.
>Norman never moved throughout the verbal thrashing, staring blankly ahead.
>He stole a couple glances at Brad, his eyes pleading like a stray kitten, but his face never soured.
>The attorney cross-examined expertly, pointing out numerous flaws in the prosecution's case.
>For example, the jacket found at the crime scene could not have belonged to Norman, because he was a medium and the jacket was a large.
>The second piece of evidence, the semen samples, didn't seem to match up with the samples taken from the defendant.
>The jury looked less than skeptical, and the judge was weary towards objections.
>Brad knew that the only thing that could defeat the appeal of emotion was to present his own.
>After a few witnesses, Brad was the last one to approach the bench.
>He sat down, glued to the chair as he was scrutinized by the court.
>He was sworn on the Bible with the judge glowering at him over his desk.
>A lump caught in Brad's throat as he was asked to begin his testimony.

>"Bradley, describe exactly what you saw the day of Mrs. Christie's rape."
>Brad inhaled deeply, thoughts racing through his head.
>Part of him wanted to tell the truth; it would guarantee Norman a spot in jail.
>Another part of his mind told him to lie.
>He had watched Norman being destroyed the entire trial, constant streams of insults and loathing tossed his way.
>He didn't deserve any of it. He should be the one being punished, not Norman.
>Norman hadn't violated those women; he hadn't destroyed their lives.
>Brad swallowed hard as he retold the story of that day to the court.
>He couldn't falsify the story as much as he would have liked.
>Mrs. Christie's account of Norman's outburst in her office was airtight.
>If he gave a porous testimony, the jury would have even less reason to doubt his guilt.
>Brad told a mostly similar story to Christie, with one key difference.
>He looked the prosecutor straight in the eye and told him that Norman was playing CoD with him that night.
>He motioned for the defense to bring forward the evidence he had submitted.
>It was a log of Norman and Brad's hours on the Xbox, which coincided together.
>The jury was less than impressed; the majority of them being older than video games themselves.
>They didn't seem to consider the evidence seriously.
>Desperate to win over the jury, Brad had one last idea.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court," he began, "I've known Norman since he walked through the doors of our school."
>Norman looked up, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly.
"He's been like my little brother, always getting into trouble and me needing to bail him out," Brad laughed, "I guess things haven't changed much, huh Norman?"
>Brad noticed Norman smiling, whether he was faking or not he couldn't tell.
"All through the trial, I've heard him being called a monster, a loathsome worm, a sickening stain on the fabric of humanity," he teared up slightly, knowing that the comments were really for him, "And I just can't sit back and watch the court tear into him."
>The judge banged his gavel, warning Brad not to insult the court. Brad apologized and resumed, tears visibly running down his face.
"Norman wouldn't hurt anyone; he has an appreciation for life that even Gandhi would be jealous of. He came to school every day, insults and pejorative statements hurled in his direction. Does he hide away from the torture? Does he scowl at them, residing himself to cynicism? No. He comes into school every day with a bright smile on his face, braving the storm of hate hanging over his head."
>Brad smiled, tears running down his face, conveying the false emotion as well as Norman was.
"The acting lessons in middle school payed off," he thought.
>The crowd's hearts warmed; they were touched by Brad's emotional hysteria.
>He was a man protecting his friend from more unjust hatred.
>Norman sneered, laughing quietly at how easily the crowd could change its mind.
>Brad wept, having to defend a man who had done nothing from crimes that he himself committed.
>Norman shouldn't be sitting on that bench, his fate in the hands of 11 people.
>It was he who should be attacked, he who should be tried for his crimes.
>Norman wasn't the only one on trial in the courtroom.

>Brad went quiet, tears running down his contorted face. The jury looked torn, unsure of what to make of the situation.
>Brad composed himself for the prosecutor's cross examination.
>Every question was torn apart like a piece of steak in a pack of dogs, the evidence refuting everything he had.
>The judge had seen enough as he signaled the jury to convene.
>Brad returned to his seat, his face scarred from drying tears.
>Norman looked at him with incredulity, unsure of how to react.
>Brad answered him with a wink. He sat back in his chair as they awaited the verdict.

>After two long hours of deliberation, the eleven judges of Norman's fate filed back into their sectioned seats.
>The court held its breath, Norman clutching his attorney's arm as the jury master delivered the verdict.
>"We have, your honor," she began, holding a piece of paper, "We the jury, find the defendant, on all five charges of sexual assault..."
>Brad's hands were clenched together, pressed against his forehead, hoping for deliverance.
>"...not guilty." The courtroom hung silent for a moment, the jury's verdict hanging above the room like a menacing storm.
>The silence was finally broken by a cheer from the audience.
>Brad whirled around to see the source, catching a glimpse of two adults jumping in celebration before the entire crowd hid them.
>The entire court shouted in celebration, Norman hugging his attorney in gratitude.
>The only people who weren't celebration were the prosecution and Brad.
>The prosecution attorneys angrily pounded on the table. Brad, however, sat quietly to himself.
>His testimony had saved a young man's life. He had been beaten, bruised, and falsely accused.
>And he was the one who put him there. Brad leaned back against the chair, the sounds of celebration washing over him as he rested.

>He woke up in a car seat, cool air from the A/C drifting across his skin.
>He sat up and looked around, jumping a bit when he saw the face beside him.
>"Hey, Brad!" Twilight said, hugging him tightly, "You're finally awake!"
>Brad rubbed his head, still groggy from the events of that day.
"What happened? Did I pass out or something?"
>"You fell asleep in the courtroom," she started, "The doctor said the stress was too much for you to handle."
"I guess so," Brad sat up, noticing some odd things about the car, "Um, whose car is this?"
>"It's mine silly," Twi said.
"What?!" Brad almost hit his head on the roof, "Since when do you have a car?"
>"I've always had one," she laughed, "You've just driven me around so much that you never saw it."
>Brad laughed, still a little shocked that she had her own car.
"Hey Twi," he exhaled, "Can you take me home, please? I've had a long day."
>A peculiar smile stretched across her face.
>"That was the plan, Brad," she giggled as she put the car in gear and drove away.

[spoiler] End of this part, next part tomorrow. Sorry that it was somewhat short and actually SFW. [/spoiler]