This chapter will answer the question as to who, exactly, Sarah Mariner is.
Also, I have started a new fanfiction, TNT. I'd love if you guys checked it out after reading this chapter. Enjoy.
AMANDA MARINER, 20* - FIRST PERSON
When I first reunited with Victor after we'd both finished our assignments for the day (selling carpets for me, picking mangoes for him), it was heavily awkward. This was due to the personal question he'd asked me that morning; he most likely felt horribly guilty for that.
At that moment, I'd believed that my own desire for privacy superseded his desire to know what was bothering me, why I was so scared of the trial that had begun that day. After all, if we had done nothing wrong, then we didn't have anything to fear from the Heaven Renders, right?
Of course, as this account will show, Victor had been wrong. I did have perfectly good reason to fear the High Court, those eight Associate Justices and one Chief Justice who had the power to send people right to the Underworld.
They might throw away her afterlife. They really might, and to what end? To make sure somebody pays for that crime, even if it's not the person who deserves to pay?
I wasn't angry with Victor for being curious. To him, it must have seemed like a perfectly reasonable question to ask, concerned as he was about my well-being. We were, after all, supposed to be perfectly in tune with one another as soulmates.
There was, however, more to the story. As I sat down at the dinner table, and we started eating our subs made with meatballs from the freezer, I couldn't help but have that dark train of thought forced into my mind.
Victor, so far as I could tell after knowing him for a week, was a good person, a "kind soul" if you will. But he didn't know what was bothering me. If I had my way, he would never know, for it was much closer to my heart than anything I wanted him to be aware of.
We barely spoke a word during dinner, and it brought back memories of my previous partnership, the one the universe had supposedly planned for me. But the best-laid plans often ended up sprawled out on the floor of a murder scene, and this was one of those instances.
Kyle Jacobs. I had never loved him, but I still didn't exactly enjoy the idea of him having faced horrific consequences for leaving me. It had been about two weeks since he'd left in that white van for parts unknown, and I hadn't heard any word from or about him after that point.
Every evening, before I managed to sleep, the last thing I saw behind my eyelids wasn't darkness. Rather, it was the image of Kyle getting into the van and not waving back at me. He'd simply climbed on and, it seemed, forgotten that I had ever existed.
Honestly, can I really blame him for that? If I were going through a divorce and didn't have any kids with my ex, I'd never have to talk to him again. So why should I, in that case?
The dream I'd had the previous evening had been extremely vivid, and, as much as I hated to ponder this possibility, it might have given me a hint as to what had happened to Kyle once that van had driven away. The thought of it made me want to hurl; again, just because I didn't get along with him didn't mean that I wanted him to suffer.
My fur was standing on end, and my vermilion eyes must have been staring across the room pretty intensely, because Victor eventually asked me, "Paradise to Amanda? Are you okay?"
I'll admit it: It felt good to have him show concern for me. That was more than Kyle had done throughout most of our soulmate partnership. But Victor clearly wanted an answer, so I gave it to him.
"Yeah, I'm fine" I replied, knowing that I didn't have my best poker face on.
Victor didn't seem satisfied. "Does this have to do with the Heaven Renders? Again, Amanda, this doesn't affect you. You can live your afterlife; follow the law, yeah, but don't get too worried about them coming for you."
I could have explained that I wasn't worried for myself; rather, it was for someone I knew. Indeed, it was someone I cared deeply about, who in turn cared about me even more deeply. It was a certain unconditional love that nobody who's never been on the giving end of it can understand.
With the context of whom I was thinking about, Victor was very wrong: I wouldn't stop worrying until I knew that she was safe and sound.
Once dinner had ended, I breathed a sigh of relief. It's not that I didn't enjoy my soulmate's company, but I was too preoccupied with other matters.
I headed back up to my room and opened the Book of Arceus. Even though this world's Bible, if you will, was written in English, that didn't make it easy to understand. It was quite wordy, and the specific words chosen were very fanciful. A few of the words were ones I couldn't remember, so I looked them up in the dictionary on my bookshelf.
It needs to be said, however, that my focus wasn't exactly stellar while I was reading. The dream I'd had last night shut out rational thought with regards to almost anything else.
As I put the book down a couple hours later, and finally closed my eyes, I mentally replayed my previous dream.
In that dream, I saw what looked like a prison. It was just like any other prison, really, except that everything was made of gold.
The cell's bars were golden, as were the walls and the "bed." Even the chain that bound the woman's ankles to the floor were such a bright yellow that it almost hurt to look at.
However, it wasn't nearly as painful to see as the woman was, for as she turned her face to me, I recognized her immediately.
I'd never seen her in a striped prison uniform before, but her face was unmistakable. I would never be able to confuse her brown hair, blue eyes, and specific skin tone for anyone else's.
She was my own mother.
"Mom! What are you doing here?" I exclaimed. I was arrested, no pun intended, by the sight of her in this golden prison reminiscent of a certain music video. My mother had never done anything illegal, at least not as far as I knew. It certainly wouldn't fit with what I knew about her.
My mother, whose name was Sarah Mariner, raised an eyebrow as she looked at me. I realized then that I was in my Braixen form, sitting on the floor of the cell. It's no wonder that my mother was shocked to see me.
"Amanda?" she asked incredulously. "How did you become...a yellow furry creature? Is that the way to put it?"
Despite the clear seriousness of the situation, I was able to laugh.
"It's a long story. I'm just glad to see you again, even though I wish it were under better circumstances."
My mother nodded. "Yeah, I would have liked to not be in this jail cell while speaking with you, but on the bright side, at least I get to speak with you again. How crazy is it that the afterlife is real?"
I didn't say anything in response, but internally I was thinking: Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.
Normally, I didn't remember my dreams very well, but since I'd gotten to Paradise Island, they'd become more vivid. What was more, this particular dream felt more authentic than real life, and it didn't take long for me to realize the implications of this being an actual event.
"You must be dead" I blurted out eventually. Perhaps it was a rude way of saying it, but what can I say? It was rather shocking to see that my mother hadn't been far behind me in leaving the first life.
My mother gave me a sad smile. "Yes, Amanda, I am. They tell me it's been a week since I passed away from a heart attack. I was otherwise healthy, but it seems that I quite literally died of a broken heart. I missed you greatly."
Instinctively, I sprang to my feet and hugged my mother. This action was borne out of relief at seeing her again, as well as a desire to appreciate this precious time with her. Because being in a jail cell couldn't mean anything good.
"I'm really sorry you died" I told my mother, trying to hold back sobs. "And I'm sorry for leaving you early; you remember the rope snapping while we were canyoning in the Caribbean."
She nodded again. "How could I not? I was there, and I replay that moment every single day. There's nothing I could have done to stop it, but it's almost like that doesn't matter. It still haunts me; a mother is supposed to protect her children."
"But I'm twenty, or, at least, I was - I don't think aging happens here."
My mother smiled wryly. "So? I'm still your mother, and I still should have done something, you know?"
Hopefully one day my mother would be willing to accept that she didn't bear any responsibility for my untimely demise. One thing I'd been struggling with, particularly since Kyle had vanished from my life, had been angst over how my mother must be feeling on Earth.
But now we were reunited. I wanted to hold her in my embrace forever, to wrap her in my arms and not let go.
Alas, it was not to be. My mother told me to sit back down on the floor, and then she would explain more.
"I'll tell you how I got here, and then you can tell me what happened to you. How did you end up here?"
"This is a dream" I immediately replied, knowing as I said those words that they were true. "It must be that only my spirit is here right now."
"Honestly, given that strange furry creatures and the afterlife are real, I'm willing to believe that. It would explain why your body seems to be shimmering."
"Huh." I didn't notice that, but I was willing to take my mother's word for it. Sarah Mariner was one of the most trustworthy people I knew.
"Anyway", my mother continued, clearly not wanting to delay telling the truth any longer, "I promised to tell you the story. First, though, I want to know: Where did you wake up?"
I briefly explained about Professor Oak's waiting room for Paradise Island, as well as the chores I'd been doing most days. I did, however, leave out the part about Kyle Jacobs.
"Well then, clearly they thought you were virtuous enough to get into heaven. Sadly, the same cannot be said for me."
Even though I'd already seen my mother in her golden jail cell, her words now hammered home the point about the brutality of her situation. I didn't know what to say in response.
When I stayed silent for roughly half a minute, my mother continued.
"I woke up in a waiting room with a man who had thinning red hair. He wore white robes, and he told me that his name was Matt McCastle. He said he was the Chief Justice of a court known as the Heaven Renders. Personally, I don't know how much of that I believe."
"It's true," I replied matter-of-factly. "At least, Professor Oak said he was on that court, but he didn't say the names of any other members."
My mother nodded, and I asked her what happened next.
"McCastle told me that I was suspected of leaking information to Matamoros. I don't know who Matamoros even is, but apparently there was an attack here a few months ago that his followers have been blamed for."
My heart nearly stopped beating. "How can they think you did it? You weren't even dead at that time!"
"Yes, well, that doesn't seem to matter to Matt McCastle. He believes, with what appears to be no evidence, that I'm guilty of a crime. The allegations are heinous, yes, but he's got nothing to show that I gave Matamoros that information. And again, I don't even know who or what that is."
In that moment, I understood how my mother must be feeling, even if I hadn't gone through it to nearly the same degree. Being accused of horrible actions is a horrendous experience, particularly if you haven't actually committed those crimes.
My mother ran a hand through her hair before looking down at me sadly.
"The trial begins tomorrow morning."
I gasped, barely believing my ears. The thought of my own mother being the defendant in a full criminal trial was too much to bear. Had I not been sitting down, I would have fallen down.
"Shouldn't heaven be more fair than Earth?" I asked as an idea struck me. "If all our Earthly wrongs are supposed to be righted, then why is their criminal justice system so unfair? You didn't do a damn thing!"
My mother smiled at me sadly, making me feel almost like I was seven years old again. It was as though she were giving me a glass of lemonade and telling me everything would be all right.
"The universe isn't fair, Amanda. Life isn't fair, and it seems as though the afterlife isn't either. But you can rest assured, my darling: I will fight this every step of the way."
That in itself wasn't very reassuring. From what I'd heard, being a trial lawyer was like chronic gambling: You never talked about your losses. No lawyer won every case, and I doubted even heavenly lawyers could.
And then I realized something else.
"This is torture for me. It must be even more torturous for you, so how can you still believe this is heaven?"
"Truth be told, Amanda, I'm not entirely sure it is," my mother said wistfully after a long pause. "I remember McCastle referred to a place called the Sky Garden; I wonder if that's in heaven."
Even if I hadn't believed in heaven prior to ending up there, I'd been well aware of media depictions of it. It was often portrayed as being up in the sky, so perhaps the Sky Garden that Mom mentioned was in heaven.
"So they think you attacked heaven? How are they going to prove it?"
Mom shrugged. "I can't predict what 'evidence' they'll use against me, but I know it's a huge, steaming pile of bullshit." She formed large air quotes around the word "evidence" with her fingers.
I couldn't help but give a tiny laugh. I couldn't remember hearing my mother say any curse words worse than "dammit", so this added some levity to the situation. Of course, it was short-lived.
"Look, this is no laughing matter, Mom" I insisted once I came to my senses. "Do you realize what they want to do to you?"
"Who are they? Also, it's not that simple; I'm sure there are people here who would like to see me acquitted, they're just not the most vocal right now."
Even though she was trying to dodge the question, it was pretty obvious that she knew she'd have to answer in the affirmative eventually. The truth was right there in front of us, and all she needed to do was face it.
My mother sighed. "Yes, I do know what the prosecution would like to see happen. Chief Justice McCastle told me as such, that if convicted I'd be sent straight to the Underworld. And the Underworld doesn't sound like a good place to be."
"What did they tell you about it?" I asked.
"That it was a terrifying place, that's about it. They weren't very specific. If I had to guess, that's probably what they thought would make me the most terrified."
I hated to broach this question, but I did it anyway. "Did it have the desired effect on you?"
My mother paused for a few moments, as though seeking my permission to answer. Of course, she soon realized she didn't need it, and so she answered the question by nodding.
"I know that I might seem composed right now", she said softly, "but this is about survival, and I'm scared. Fear of the unknown is a powerful thing, Amanda."
She turned her head towards the ground, and I came to understand that there was a sort of role reversal at play here. I felt as though I were the parent for once, consoling my daughter after having a nightmare or something to that effect.
Of course, that wasn't a perfect analogy; I couldn't be nearly as strong for my mother as she had been for me in my most vulnerable moments as a child. Even when I'd gotten very sick and had fever dreams during my childhood, Mom had always been there to comfort me and occasionally cuddle me, even though she risked getting sick herself by doing so.
The point was, if worse came to worst and my mother was chucked into the abyss, I wouldn't be able to be with her. She would go through many "darkest hours", and her daughter would not be by her side.
No. I cannot know how she's feeling at this moment.
"Do you have a lawyer?" was my next question. It had sprung up from my brain like a geyser, and I just wouldn't be able to avoid voicing it.
Mom shook her head. "Sadly, I do not. If it's anything like an American criminal trial, I'll be provided a public defender for the trial, but that's obviously no guarantee that I can win my case."
It was then that I realized another asymmetry, this one between my mother's side and the side of the prosecution. The stakes were immeasurably higher for my mother.
If the prosecution lost, the worst thing that would happen is that somebody else would have to be investigated, indicted, and thrown into the Pit of Panda for the attack. If Sarah Mariner lost, then she'd be the one facing eternity in the Underworld.
"Mom, I believe that you can fight harder than the other side. You have so much more to lose."
My mother suddenly appeared very old and tired, as well as very young and vulnerable, at the same time. Judging by the particular way she was breathing, she might have been on the verge of tears.
"You're right, Amanda. We have to keep the faith, simply because we don't have anything else. I feel certain that McCastle's going to vote to convict, regardless of how weak the BS is that the prosecution comes up with."
"You don't know that, though" I asserted boldly. "Maybe he only looks intimidating when he's indicting someone."
My mother shook her head. "You weren't there. I was. Trust me, I know what his intentions are. Even if the other eight vote no, he's still going to be the one who votes yes."
"But there are nine Heaven Renders, and if it's done by simple majority, you only need to convince five. The burden of proof is on the prosecution, and their evidence has got to be pretty weak if you're innocent."
Sarah Mariner sighed. "They say that the moral arc of the universe bends towards justice, but that's just not true. Sometimes bad things happen to good people, and that's when you need to remember: You can never give up."
It was astonishing to me how my mother could seemingly remain so stoic even when she talked about a terrible fate that might befall her. To some extent, it was also alarming.
She'd told me that she was going to fight. But she'd shown me something different. Not resignation, exactly, but her tone suggested a sort of acceptance. Perhaps she was okay with whatever her fate might end up being.
Well, if she's in the Underworld, that will NOT be okay.
PROFESSOR SAMUEL OAK, 54* - THIRD PERSON
Even after spending a decent amount of time on the high court, it still amazed the professor how organized the courthouse was.
Although the charges against Sarah Mariner had, to him, appeared to come out of nothing, the way the people and Pokemon in the Sky Garden conducted themselves was incredibly precise. It looked rather like a military drill to Professor Oak; there was a method to this madness.
Don't get me wrong, it's certainly madness. Ugh, I really needed coffee this morning. I don't feel sleepy, but I don't exactly have the energy to sit through hours of proceedings.
Once all nine Heaven Renders had taken their seats, Chief Justice McCastle banged his gavel against the podium. "With the presence of the entire High Court, this trial may now commence. Bring in the defendant."
Two men in police uniforms, each holding and restraining the woman by one of her arms, led the defendant into the courtroom and down the central aisle until they reached the chair.
Just as she had been yesterday, Sarah Mariner was unceremoniously pushed into the chair, followed by the chains wrapping themselves around her wrists. She would be the captive audience.
Pushing her like that was the least ceremonial part about this ritual. Everything else is so elegant and dignified, but all but shoving a crying woman is anything but.
"With the defendant present, this trial may begin. Today…".
Chief Justice McCastle was interrupted by Mike Mindanao, who raised his hand as though waiting to be called on in class.
"The Chief recognizes Michael Mindanao, Associate Justice of the Heaven Renders. What is your concern?"
"The public defender, Mr. Daniel California, is not present. Should he not be here when the trial is taking place?"
McCastle frowned, his mouth contorting as though he wanted to spit. He didn't do that, however, and instead nodded reluctantly.
The Chief Justice pulled what looked like a mobile phone out of his pocket and dialled a number. After a very brief conversation, he put his phone down and looked back at Judge Mindanao.
"Yes, the public defender will be arriving shortly. He had forgotten that the trial began at nine o'clock; he'd been under the impression that it started an hour later."
If Professor Oak hadn't been scared for Sarah before, he certainly was now. He had known that Danny California was basically the legal equivalent of a "quack doctor", and wasn't very good at his job. He just hadn't been aware of the exact degree.
She's in a heap of trouble. If the defense lawyer doesn't show up on time, that's really not a good look.
Already, he could see a few of his fellow Heaven Renders having side conversations, and he knew immediately that, while not necessarily a death blow to Sarah's chances of acquittal, it moved the needle significantly against her. And if it was a close vote, that could make all the difference.
Even though he knew this didn't look professional, the professor found himself slumping over his desk. He was tired, and he was showing it, but he didn't care that much. He wasn't paid for being an Associate Justice, and he wouldn't be fired, no matter what he might do on the job (within reason.) He already looked rather disheveled when he wasn't in the proper robes; what difference did the wrong posture make?
After about ten minutes, Danny California came jogging into the room. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat, as though he'd been running for a while. He carried a briefcase in one hand, presumably containing his evidence that Sarah could not have committed the crime.
Mr. California took his seat at the defense table, opposite Ben Bannock, the prosecutor. Bannock was a burly, balding man who looked like he might have been a rock musician in a previous life.
The prosecutor, who had possessed a mostly emotionless face yesterday, now looked up with a trace amount of glee. He clearly knew that he'd just scored a win.
Professor Oak resisted the urge to glare at Bannock. You've won the battle, buddy, but not the war.
"Okay" Chief Justice McCastle announced, clearing his throat. "The public defender and all jurors being present, I declare this trial to have commenced. The time has come to start with the opening statements."
The prosecutor stood tall, hand over his heart as though he were making an oath to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. When he spoke, he did so with a certain level of authority that simply couldn't be resisted.
"Your Honor", Bannock began, "on the morning of March the fifth, in the year two thousand and twenty-one, the Sky Garden bore witness to what can only be described as one of the most horrifying days in the city's history. Hordes of Matamoros' servants known as the Windborn descended from the heavens and wrecked havoc upon our beloved homeland."
The prosecutor, who had been standing still as he delivered the first few lines, suddenly began pacing back and forth along the aisle. He didn't scream, but that only made him more intimidating, not less.
Had he raised his voice to a significant degree, he wouldn't have been a threat. Ben Bannock would just have been seen as a whiny man-child instead of a rock-hard prosecutor determined to throw away an afterlife. He spoke slowly, deliberately, and with a certain venom that was clearly meant to persuade the audience as much as the jury.
"We all remember that day. We saw the winged creatures approach the city, and we immediately ordered our cannons into action. However, the cannons were unable to blast the Windborn out of the sky in time; indeed, they may have been tampered with in order to sabotage our defenses."
"Sir", McCastle told Bannock, "Sarah Mariner is only on trial for one charge, and that's leaking the information. If you wish to accuse her of helping to sabotage the cannons, then you must file a charge against her for that offense. This trial is only about the information leak."
The Chief Justice didn't seem angry with Bannock. On the contrary, he seemed to want to do everything possible to see the prosecution succeed. He just wanted to make sure Bannock didn't blow it by breaking the rules.
"Sorry about that, Your Honor" the prosecutor replied, bowing in McCastle's direction. "In any case, the city's defenses were not prepared, and we lost some three hundred civilians and fourteen Sky Garden officials to the mob."
Producing a sheet of paper from his briefcase, Bannock continued to speak. "I have a list of names right here, and can read them now, Your Honor. Remember, the victims were real people, not just numbers or even names on a list."
"That will not be necessary, Mr. Bannock" Chief Justice McCastle responded.
Internally, Professor Oak had to admit that Bannock was making a good case for the prosecution. While not losing his temper, he was placing extra emphasis on the severity of the supposed crime and the humanity of the victims.
His emotional appeal was quite something. By pointing out repeatedly how horrific March 5 had been, Bannock was sending the following message: Look how horrible it was. Now look at this woman before you. Shouldn't someone pay for what happened?
The professor could only watch as Bannock kept talking. He spoke with the conviction of a religious leader, the courage of a lion, and the cruelty of someone who desperately wants revenge. The three "C's", if you will.
"Even now, as the fallen from the battle slowly re-form in the Underworld, the question remains: Should we hold those responsible accountable for the destruction this caused the Sky Garden? Or should we neglect our sacred duty to uphold the law, and therefore invite the Windborn to invade again? The choice seems pretty easy to me, but it's ultimately up to the jury.
"I will not bow until I have seen every last culprit brought to justice for the events of March the fifth. Thus concludes my opening statement."
If Ben Bannock ever left the job of prosecuting attorney, his next position would probably be as one of the most gifted orators of the twenty-first century (or twenty-second, since he had all the time in the world.) His skills were, quite literally, heavenly.
They can't have seemed heavenly to the defendant, though, Professor Oak thought to himself. She looks terrified out of her mind.
Sarah Mariner hadn't moved an inch since Bannock had begun his opening statement. To be fair, it was rather hard to move at all with the restraints she was held by; there were tethers around her ankles as well.
However, it was plain to see that her teeth were chattering, even though it wasn't that cold in the courtroom. In addition, her feet were constantly tapping against the floor, and her mouth was slack-jawed.
That poor woman. I really help her nerves don't work against her, make the others think she's guilty. I'd be pretty nervous too if I were in her chair right now; thankfully, I'm not.
"Thank you for your opening statement, Mr. Bannock" Chief Justice McCastle said. Turning to the other eight Heaven Renders, he continued speaking. "If you guys brought pen and paper, you may feel free to take notes. I simply ask that computers aren't used in that process."
Professor Oak, if he were being honest with himself, would have wanted to surf the Internet rather than listen to the prosecution bring up so much nonsense. Indeed, he did want to, but he couldn't; it was considered disrespectful to do so in the courtroom.
Not for the first time, the professor felt very much underprepared for this meeting, since the other Associate Justices had all brought their notepads and were jotting down some of the things that had been said. Oak simply frowned and looked at the floor.
I have to take my job seriously, unless my aim is to get dismissed. Truth be told, being dismissed is what I'd like most, but I don't think that'll happen if I slack off. McCastle's wily like that.
Once the others were finished taking notes, Chief Justice McCastle announced that it was time for the defense to make its opening statement. Even though the man was on Sarah Mariner's side, the professor dreaded this statement especially, since it meant that Danny California was going to speak.
In a perfect world, whoever had prepared this man for his job as the public defender should be fired. In fact, Mr. California should have been fired as well, for as long as he was assigned to cases where the defendant didn't have a lawyer, the house odds would always be in favor of the prosecution.
Still, house odds could be overcome. In casinos this was done through luck, as well as some skill in knowing which risks were worth taking and which weren't. As Professor Oak looked down at the chairs full of people and Pokemon, he saw Danny California stand up and start delivering his lines.
Even the man's appearance looked unprofessional. He had a sizable amount of beard scruff, as though he were habitually too lazy to shave. In addition, he spoke slowly and timidly. Evidently, he hadn't spent enough time studying his prepared statement and needed to consult his notes every few seconds.
"Your Honor...we are all aware of the attack that transpired in the Sky Garden on March the fifth. I should know; I was there. When we see something so wrong like that, when such atrocities occur, all of us want to see justice brought against whoever did this. It's a natural part of the human condition; indeed, it's also part of the Pokemon condition, for this tendency has been observed in various species of Pokemon as well.
"More to the point, the prosecution seems to have come across one Sarah Mariner to use as the scapegoat. Scapegoat, defined in the dictionary as a person who is blamed for the wrongdoings, mistakes, or faults of others, especially for reasons of expediency. We shouldn't throw this woman in the Underworld just for the sake of expediency. Two wrongs don't make a right."
Professor Oak thought that the opening statement was weak. This wasn't because Mr. California didn't make good points; it was important to state, clearly and unequivocally, that two wrongs didn't make a right.
The problem was that his opening statement was far too wordy. There was no need to get technical, for the only necessary defense was to prove that Mrs. Mariner had not committed the crime. Anything more would muddy the message, give the prosecution something to hang their hopes on.
And these prosecutors were ruthless. If you gave them an inch, they would take a mile. If they had any chance to muddy the waters just a little bit, sow any doubt about the woman's innocence, they were going to do it.
Once Danny California had taken a long swig of water, he continued.
"The Underworld should be a place that's reserved for the worst offenders, hardened criminals. But more importantly, we should only be sending people there who unquestionably deserve it. There can't be a reasonable doubt, there cannot be any doubt at all, that this woman is guilty. But she is innocent, and I believe that truth will become self-evident as this trial continues."
The professor didn't think things were going well for Mrs. Mariner at all. She was showing too much emotion. It was understandable to be fearful of the Underworld, but it would only give ammunition to those who wanted to send her there. They might say something like, She's nervous because she knows she's guilty! Or maybe, The Underworld is owed one person, so why doesn't she take one for the team?
If Mrs. Mariner lost the case, however, the bulk of the blame would have to fall with the public defender. He simply wasn't up to the task, and when defending a client you believe to be innocent of a terrible offense, it's important to be at the top of your game.
Hell, they might even take Danny's words out of context. He did say "this woman is guilty", after all. He said those words, and they'll want the other jurors to think a certain way. A way that's contrary to reality, that ignores the rest of his statement.
But if the woman really was somehow guilty...well, let's just say that Samuel Oak would have a hard time living with himself if he got it wrong.
I cannot wait until this thing is over. One way or the other.
For the golden prison, I pictured the one from the music video for "The Sweet Escape" by Gwen Stefani. Also, at one point I accidentally slipped into first-person; the trial scene was inspired by one of my favorite novels, which is told in first-person. Luckily I was able to correct my mistake before much damage was done.