Justice

Justice is blind. It cannot see the rightfulness. The truth that I am innocent. incorrectly impeach of a callous murder. There I stood in the center of a court surrounded by strangers. Strangers who atomic number 18 on the nose about to decide whether I am worthy of a descent life or not. Thoughts were hotfoot through my head. What would my family designate? What would become of my children? What is going to happen to me? The courtroom stood with perfect synchronization signalling the entrance of the hear and jurors. The air was utile of tension as the crowd sat down, anticipating the outcome with unsure brass instruments. I was unsure of what the nigh moments held for me. The case had been close, the main separate against me was a smeared finger scratch, found on a gun salutary outside the house with short letter of the victim on it. The only problem with the fingerprint was that it wasnt mine. that it was whiz experts opinion that the print was mine and that I was a liar and a murderer. The judge stood up, raising his hefty ring out of his throne. He was a large man, with glasses and a stressed out face which had taken a buffet from being in an emotionally draining position for a number of years. He clear-cut his throat, silencing the whispers from the crowd. Has the jury come to a decision?

He asked. Yes, your honour, replied one of the jurors. Read the verdict. My moment of truth had arrived. I knew I was innocent, tho did anyone else? The jury finds the defendant... guilty on the charge of murder. I was horrified. So horrified that I just stood there staring at the ground. The chill of th e handcuffs being disposed to my wrists, se! nding twat bumps down... If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: BestEssayCheap.com

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