From a Person Who Will Die in Three Days.
-Clive has been sentenced to death. When the jury asked him if he had any last requests, Clive only asked for one thing… He wanted three days to write a letter to the people important to him.
…
"Professor, the trial's starting!" Luke shouted, keeping his eyes glued to the television. Luke's father had let Luke return to keep tabs on Clive's trial with his good friends, Professor Layton and Flora. It had been two months ago that Clive went on a rampage, destroying a part of London in his craze for revenge. It was now that the jury were finally going to deliver their verdict. Luke's stomach was doing flip-flops. He still held a little bit of resentment towards Clive, but he didn't want to see anything bad happen to him. After all, Clive wanted only to right the wrong that destroyed his life ten years ago.
"Hold onto your hat, Luke," Flora replied. "We're coming." Both she and the Professor appeared and sat with him, watching the set closely.
"And we're back," the reporter said. "The nation had been holding its breath on the trial of its most recent threat. Two months ago, Clive Dove had taken an enormous world-destruction device and proceeded to terrorize the city of London. Thankfully, his plan backfired when the machine fell into the cavern below London and exploded. Now we take you to our live coverage of his trial, where the jury will deliver their verdict."
The scene switched, showing a room filled with anxious-looking people. They saw Clive instantly, focused ahead of him, looking at nothing. One man, a tall guy with brown hair, stood, looking quite nervous. He kept glancing at the people around him, who were giving him awfully venomous looks.
"Mr. Dove," he said, "do you admit to your crimes against the city of London?"
"I do," Clive replied evenly, not looking at him.
"The jury has reached its decision, then…" He looked down to the woman next to him, who gave him a nasty grin and nodded. "Mr. Dove…the jury has sentenced you to death."
There was complete and absolute silence in the room. Then, the lookers-on burst out cheering and clapping. They were overjoyed that such a madman was getting the ultimate penalty. In their view, London was safe from another psychopath.
Luke, Flora, and Layton could have been carved from stone. All they could do was stare and not believe what they'd just heard.
"No…no…" Flora was whispering, reaching out as if she could touch Clive. "No, that's not right…"
"Oh my Lord…" Layton breathed. "There's…how did they get the clearance to do that?"
Luke was shaking his head slowly. Something was pricking at the corners of his eyes. This was wrong, all wrong… it was so wrong… This had to be a dream. Sure, Clive had never been the friendliest guy around…but they were going to kill him?
Clive closed his eyes. Yes, of course…this was what he'd been expecting. It was only natural that no one wanted him around anymore. He wouldn't be surprised if the jury had threatened that poor guy or his family to deliver the verdict.
The judge called for order, but no one would settle down, so he called Clive up so he didn't have to shout.
"Mr. Dove, do you have any final requests?" he asked when Clive drew near.
"Just one, Your Honor," Clive replied.
"What is it?"
Clive hesitated, then looked him in the face and said, "I would like three days to write a letter to the only people who ever gave me a second thought. May I?"
His expression softened. "Yes, I don't see why not." Raising his head, he shouted, "Case dismissed!" and that was that.
The scene cut back to the reporter, who was beaming. "And there you have it, folks!" she said, barely being heard over the screaming crowd. "Be sure to stay tuned for more information!"
The screen cut to black. Layton had switched it off, looking half furious and half unbearably upset.
Luke could only wonder why. Two months ago, before he was thrown into prison, Clive had fully admitted what he'd done was horribly, horribly wrong. He'd said he wanted to atone for his crimes when he got out of jail. It wasn't fair that he was being sentenced to death. How would he make it up to the city he really loved so dearly now? How could he if he was dead?
…
In the courtroom, after everyone had left, the judge and the man from the jury approached Clive. They looked upset.
"Clive, I'm sorry," the jury man said quickly. "I tried, I really did! But they wouldn't hear of it…"
He shook his head, smiling. "It's okay. I chose my own path the moment I focused on revenge. You tried, and that's all that matters."
"I could've tried harder," he muttered, venom in his voice.
"Stop that." Clive smiled again. "It's okay, all right? I don't have any grudge against you or anyone else, and I never will. All you're doing is your job. There was nothing you could do. I knew the minute I stepped in here, from the looks on your coworker's faces, that I wouldn't be getting out of this alive. I knew, and I accepted that. Don't blame yourselves. This is where my path ends. It was…a nice run."
And with that, Clive was escorted from the building.
…
Upon returning to the place he'd called home for the past two months, he saw a stack of paper and a pen lying on top of it. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Here he was, sitting here, writing a letter for his only friends, knowing in three days he would die. Yes, this was quite a predicament.
"I'll think of it like a puzzle," Clive told himself softly. "A puzzle…with only one possible solution."
Picking up the pen, he began to write.
…
Those three days passed so quickly, it was like only ten minutes ago that he'd been told he was going to die. He was just finishing his letter when the bars opened. He looked up. There stood the man from the jury, looking quite sullen.
"Hello, again," he said gruffly.
"Hello," Clive replied, bending his head again, writing. "I'm nearly done. Could I have a few more minutes?"
"Yes."
The next minutes were almost completely silent, except for Clive's scribbling. After signing his name on the bottom, he looked up again. He glanced down at the letter, then held it out. "Will you deliver this to the address on the back for me? It's…all I have left."
He took it gently. "Yes." He hesitated, then said, "I'll let you go. I'll tell them you overpowered me. I don't want to do this."
Clive closed his eyes and smiled, but shook his head. It was tempting, but it was time he stopped running now. "No. This is my path. I'm going to follow it to the end."
"…If that's what you really want." He heard the footsteps and felt the needle, then knew nothing else but the comforting dark embrace of death…
…
Next chapter will be the letter.
Story dedicated in loving memory of Grammie. I miss you, you know… Wait for me up there.