"Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering" Yoda

Frank was glad the trial had started on a Saturday.

Sliding into a seat, he realized he was lucky to be sitting at all. The press and media was standing in the back of the room. People -- maybe hundreds of people -- were standing outside. Angry parents, protestors saying New York should bring back the death penalty...it seemed like the entire state had showed up.

Except Joe. Frank was sitting between John and Carrie on one side and Chet, Biff, and Tony on the other. His friends had all accompanied him to watch.

Frank knew exactly what he was expecting from this trial. He was honest enough with himself to admit that he wanted closure. Like maybe this event could make up for a dead brother, a dead son, countless of others dead, a ruined face. Maybe it could make up for Frank's nightmares. Could make up for the fact that Joe was afraid of his own shadow. Maybe the trial could make the town go back to the way it used to be, when people talked about baseball and what they were doing after high school instead of discussing That Day.

Somewhere, Frank knew that the trial couldn't give him back everything he lost. But maybe, just maybe, it would give him a way to move on.

The silence started in the back of the room. Frank turned around in his seat and found himself looking at Jacob Roffman. His face had an unhealthy yellow tint to it, his wispy brown hair fell in front of cold brown eyes. The orange jumpsuit all prisoners wore was clean. His hands were shackled together, as were his feet.

Beside him, Frank felt John tense, saw his hands curl into fists so tight his knuckles turned white. He couldn't imagine being this close to someone who he knew had murdered Joe. Gently, he placed a hand on John's knee, while Carrie did the same on the other side. Frank could feel John's muscles partially relax, but he never took his eyes off Roffman.

Roffman was seated at the front of the courtroom. Frank was so busy watching him he didn't realize what was going on until Chet stood up next to him. Glancing up, Frank saw the last person he'd expect to come to the trial.

Joe sat down next to Frank, staring straight ahead. It took Frank a few seconds to comprehend what he was seeing -- Joe, his Joe, at the trial of the boy who had shot up their school. At the trial of the monster who had hurt him, killed him, killed and injured their friends. It took Frank another few seconds to realize Joe was shaking. It only took him one second to wrap his arm around his brother's shoulder, holding him tight, not able to bear losing him.

The judge entered and they stood up. Looking to his left, Frank could see John, his face flushed with anger and frustration and sadness. So much sadness. Carrie had her mouth pressed to his neck, whispering words meant for comfort. She didn't look surprised or upset when he turned away from her, his face stony, looking straight forward as opening statements were given.

To Frank's right was Joe. His face was pale, a ghostly white. Chet had a hand on his knee. Frank had not yet dropped his arm from around his brothers shoulders. He didn't intend to.

Frank knew enough of the legal system to know what was happening. The trial wasn't about whether or not he was guilty, though they did have to prove that. It was more about the boy's sentence. Twelve jurors had to unanimously agree on a correct punishment for killing thirty-something people.

Nothing could ever come close to a correct punishment. Frank, who had never believed in the death sentence, who had never seriously wanted to kill someone before four months ago, thought that even death would be too good for the murderer. He had ripped apart countless families, hurt and paralyzed innocent kids, ruined lives. Nothing the courts could do could make up for that.

If Frank remembered correctly, there would be no witnesses today. A bare layout of facts, that was it. He knew that the prosecution had asked most of the victims friends or families to be witnesses. Frank himself had been asked. So had Carrie, John, Joe, Chet, Biff...anyone who was connected with the people dead or injured. Twenty-one people had agreed to be witnesses.

Frank was one of them.

Anything he could do to help put this thing behind them, help Joe get over the nightmares and laugh again. Anything he could do to get the murderer behind bars for life without parole. He wanted that monster out of their lives, for good.

Frank hadn't told Joe what he was doing. He didn't know how his brother would react to the news. The old Joe might have laughed it off, knowing his over-protective older brother was just doing his thing. It wasn't like they hadn't been witnesses to a trial before. They had put a lot of dangerous killers behind bars, some that had even hurt one or both of the Hardy brothers. But Roffman was different. He had only hurt Joe. He was their age.

Something in the opening statements made Frank look up, seeing Joe and John's expressions out of the corner of his eyes. Both looked angry. Listening now, Frank heard the defense say that it wasn't Roffman's fault...that the people he'd killed and injured had bullied him to the point where he h ad attempted suicide.

Frank thought of Dave, with his knowing grey eyes and easy smile. He thought of the girl Biff had dragged out of the school, the one who had died later that day with curly red hair and freckles, no older than fourteen. He thought of the young teacher who had been one of the victims, of the thirty-something other people killed, of the hundred injured. How had they all managed to bully this one person?

Pushing the thought aside for now, Frank sat with his arm slung around Joe's shoulder for the remainder of the opening statements, until the judge said the court would adjourn until the following day.

At that point, all Hell broke loose. People were shouting, crying, screaming insults and worse at Roffman and his lawyer, who hurried out of the building by a back way. Frank turned and saw Chief Collig, an old friend and the head of the Bayport police force, keeping a crowd back, keeping them from killing the boy who had killed their sons and daughters and brothers and friends.

If, by some accident, the Chief had let one person slip by and kill Roffman, Frank wouldn't have been able to blame him one bit.

Please review.

Sorry if the court thing was wrong. I'm fifteen, not a lawyer. If anyone who has more knowledge of the legal system cares enough to contact me, I would be happy to incorporate your suggestions into further chapters.