“Yes, Commander,” Yolanda said.
She wasn't sure what to feel. Serving on a jury was an alien concept to her. She certainly hadn't served on a jury back on Earth, where jury trials were almost a thing of the past. But if it was part of her duties as a citizen, she had no intention of simply refusing to carry them out. The Commander was right. On the surface, it was a free choice, but it would look very bad on her record.
“Go to the courtroom in four hours – and take your Marine friend with you,” Commander Gregory ordered, transmitting a stream of data from her implants. “You shouldn't be expected to remain there longer than two days, perhaps three at the most. If they want to hold you back, explain to the usher that you’re expected to leave with your ship and they will probably let you go.”
She sighed. “I’m sorry this happened when you should be on shore leave,” she added. “You probably would have been called to jury duty, sooner or later, but the timing was particularly poor for you. Dismissed.”
Yolanda nodded, saluted as she rose, then left the compartment. She called Martin as soon as the hatch hissed closed behind her and arranged to meet him at the airlock, then reviewed the files Commander Gregory had given her. They were sparse on actual details of the case – she assumed it was to prevent her forming any conclusions before the trial actually began – but quite detailed when it came to explaining what she had to do. It wasn't enough to find someone guilty, or innocent. She would be responsible for passing judgement too.
“Hey,” Martin called. “What’s up?”
“Jury duty,” Yolanda said. She copied the files Commander Gregory had sent her to his implants as they stepped through the airlock and walked down the long corridor into Gunn Asteroid. “I’m sorry for ruining your shore leave.”
“I was spending half of it with you and the other half getting drunk with the platoon,” Martin said. “Truthfully, I preferred spending time with you.”
Yolanda smiled, shyly. “Really?”
“The platoon can be very overbearing at times,” Martin said. “And they’re always around me on the ship, anyway.”
“At least they’ve accepted you now,” Yolanda said. “You should be happy.”
They reached the second airlock and stepped through into the asteroid. Unlike most of the other asteroids she’d visited, which were largely well-established cantons, Gunn Asteroid served as a clearing house for emigrants from Earth who were reluctant to join the military or sign up with a corporation before they left their homeworld. There was something about it that felt a little shabby, Yolanda noted, although she couldn't put her finger on what. The Solar Union could feed and water its entire population without needing to strain itself, but it assumed no further obligation towards the immigrants. Anyone who failed to find a job would be in deep trouble.
A stream of holographic advertisements popped up beside her as she walked, advertising everything from asteroid mining to prostitution. Yolanda had been shocked, at first, to discover that sex worker was considered a honourable occupation, although she could see some advantages in allowing prostitutes to work openly. Other potential occupations looked to be dead-end jobs, as far as she could tell; some of the adverts offered proper formal training as well as actual employment. A line of text at the bottom promised more details if she sent a message to the owners.
“Shit,” Martin said, quietly.
Yolanda followed his gaze as they paused outside a large rock chamber, hewed out of the asteroid. It was crammed with people, mainly young men, trying to snatch some sleep before they resumed the search for jobs. On Earth, so many people from so many races would have been uneasy together; here, they were too tired to do more than roll over and sleep on uncomfortable mattresses, covered with torn blankets. She felt a sudden stab of pity and horror as they walked on and past the next chamber, which held men and women lining up for cheap soup and bread. Beyond them, a third chamber held sleeping women.
“If we hadn't found a way to join the military, we might have ended up there,” Martin breathed.
“Maybe,” Yolanda said. She doubted Martin would have stayed there for very long – he’d had the drive to get out of the ghetto, after all – but she might have been trapped in the caves or driven by hunger into prostitution. “Why don’t they move on?”
Martin shrugged. He had no answer.
Yolanda mulled it over as they walked past the caves and down towards the courthouse. There was no shortage of jobs, but jobs required education. Had the newcomers learned nothing on Earth? Given how little she’d known when she’d left Earth forever, it seemed quite likely. Or was there some other reason they were caught in the asteroid, instead of going on to find a proper place to live?
There was a small crowd outside the courthouse, supervised by armed guards wearing white uniforms. Their commander, a man wearing a cowboy hat with a silver star, eyed them both warily, then sent an ID ping from his implants. Yolanda returned it, then transmitted a copy of the jury notice. The officer eyed her for a long moment, then jerked a thumb towards the door.
“Your friend can go through and join the audience,” he said. “Or he can wait outside.”
“I’ll watch,” Martin said, quickly. He waved to Yolanda. “Good luck.”
Inside, the air was fresh and cold. Yolanda shivered, then looked up as someone called her name, inviting her into a second room. Two men sat at a desk, one of them looking down at a datapad, the other studying Yolanda with cold blue eyes. She sat facing them, when one of them motioned to the chair, and forced herself to remain calm. Moments later, the man studying the datapad looked up at her and smiled.
“I am obliged to warn you that you may not disclose anything that happens in here until the end of the trial,” one of the men said. “In the event of you being rejected for jury service, you will still be obliged to keep your mouth shut until the end. Any disclosures you may make before then will result in your arrest, trial and a possible sentence of five years hard labour. Do you understand what I have just told you?”
“Yes,” Yolanda said. Her mouth was very dry. “I understand.”
The man relaxed, slightly. “And you are prepared to accept the responsibility that comes with being a juror?”
“I am,” Yolanda said.
“Good,” the man said. He passed her the datapad. “You are required to inform us, now, if you know any of the people in the files personally or professionally.”
“Or if there are any other reasons you should not be judging this case” the other man added.
“Indeed,” the first man said. “If any such reasons should appear later, you may be charged with causing a deliberate mistrial, which – if found guilty – will result in a five year sentence of hard labour.”
Yolanda took the datapad and flicked through the files. None of the faces looked familiar, although she had to remind herself that people could change their names and faces in the Solar Union, without restriction. She studied the names for a long moment, then shook her head.
“I don’t recognise any of them,” she said. “What now?”
The man pointed a finger at the door behind them. “You go through and wait to be called,” he said. “Do not talk about the case with your fellow jurors or attempt to leave the compartment.”
Yolanda sighed, then walked through the door. Inside, there was a reasonably comfortable waiting room, with seven men and women already sitting there, most of them reading paperback books. She frowned and tried to use her implants, only to discover that she couldn't get a signal out of the room. If there were any processors capable of linking her into the datanet, none of them responded to her. Sighing, she sat down and picked up one of the glossy magazines lying on the tables. In hindsight, she should have brought a book or downloaded something new into her implants.
It was nearly an hour before the thirteen jurors were summoned through yet another door, into the courtroom. Yolanda almost laughed when she saw it; someone, she suspected, had been reading books about an er
a where the defendant had to prove his innocence, rather than the law his guilt. The judge’s chair looked more like a throne, the defendant’s box had spikes hammered into the sides and the jury had uncomfortable chairs, presumably to keep them alert. It would be hard for the defendant to have any doubt about why he’d been summoned to court.
She hastily reviewed procedures as the doors were thrown open, allowing the public witnesses to flow into the room. Martin was the third person to enter; he waved to her, quickly, then sat down at the back of the room. Once the public seating was full, the doors were closed and the judge marched out of a side door and sat down on his throne. A deep silence fell. It would have been more impressive, Yolanda thought, if she hadn’t known it was caused by a sound-suppressant force field.
“Bring in the prisoners,” the judge ordered.
There was a pause, then the prisoners were marched into the court. Yolanda leaned forward, studying them with interest. Two of them were older men, easily old enough to be her father; three more were her age, maybe a little bit older. Their hands were cuffed behind their backs, while their legs were shackled, making it harder for them to walk. The defiant stares they gave the courtroom, however, suggested they had no fear of conviction. Yolanda forced herself to sit back and relax. They’d be told the charges soon enough.
“The Prosecutor may begin,” the judge said, once the defendants were in the dock.
The Prosecutor rose to his feet and cleared his throat. “Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury,” he said. “The prisoners you see before you have been charged with two murders, one attempt to cover up the aforementioned murders and outright breach of the Solar Union Constitution. I have no hesitation in requesting they face the maximum penalty allowed by law.”
Yolanda shivered. The maximum penalty was death.
“The facts of the case are straightforward,” the Prosecutor continued. “The defendant and his family requested and received permission to emigrate to the Solar Union nine months ago. Unfortunately, the senior members of the family were unable to find work and remained on Gunn Asteroid, forbidding their teenage children to leave them and find employment on their own. Six months ago, the seventeen-year-old daughter of the defendant – Anisa Bin Khalid started a relationship with Mathew Quirk, whose family had also emigrated from Earth. His family were supportive of the relationship; her family were not. After she was beaten by her father, she ran to her boyfriend and they planned to escape together.
“It was not to be. The defendants tracked them down and murdered them both, then tried to hide the bodies in the waste disposal system. Forensic examination proved that they were both beaten to death by the defendants, who were tracked down and arrested. Interrogation under lie detectors proved that the two senior defendants had ordered the murder, then pushed the junior ones into assisting with both the murder itself and then the cover-up.
“Their motive in doing so was nothing less than control. They did not want Anisa to form any relationships of any kind outside their family; the thought of her leaving them permanently, let alone living with a man from a very different culture, was utterly impossible to tolerate. They feared for the reputation of their family, for the future lives of her brothers and sisters. They chose, therefore, to kill them both, committing murder.
“This was not self-defence. This was not manslaughter. This was cold-blooded, premeditated murder. Furthermore, the Solar Union Constitution clearly states that children who have reached their majority – and Anisa was old enough to be considered mature – cannot be controlled by their parents. To attempt to talk her out of the relationship would be one thing, to murder her in cold blood quite another. The defendants swore to respect and uphold the Constitution upon arrival. Their crime is quite beyond any defence.”
Yolanda shuddered. She’d heard rumours that some teenage children had been locked up by their parents in California, but her stepmother – the evil bitch – had never tried to lock Yolanda up in a cupboard, let alone marry her off to someone else. But then, who would want her?
“The Defender can now speak,” the judge said.
The defender looked tired, Yolanda noted, as he rose to his feet. She wondered, as he cast his gaze over the jury, just how he planned to defend the criminals. What sort of defence was even possible? Did he plan to suggest that using lie detectors was somehow illegal? Even if it was – and she knew from her notes that it wasn't – there was plenty of forensic evidence too. It was waiting in the datacores for her to review, once the speeches were over.
“My clients wish me to deny that they committed murder,” the Defender said, bluntly. “They wish me to state that their culture permits parents wide latitude over their children, both to punish them when they defy their parents and to defend them against outsiders. They see Mathew Quirk as nothing more than a rapist who had to die.”
It was an interesting choice of words, Yolanda noted. The more she thought about it, the more she realised the Defender wasn't choosing his own words, merely parroting what he'd been told to say. Two of the defendants remained impassive, but the remaining three were smirking at the audience, who looked outraged. It might have worked on Earth, where an appeal to respect for other societies could excuse anything, but the Solar Union was different.
“They assert that the Solar Union has no power to try them,” the Defender continued. “And they demand their immediate release.”
He broke off, looking annoyed. The audience was laughing.
The judge pressed his lips together, tightly. “We have them in the dock,” he said. “I dare say we have the power to try them.”
He nodded to the jury. “Shall we continue?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Pakistan’s new government issued a warning to India as Hindu-Muslim fighting spread out of control, despite the presence of Indian troops. However, despite intensive pressure from theocratic elements within Pakistan, it is unlikely the Pakistanis can do more than issue strong protests and brace themselves for an onslaught of refugees. Sources on the ground claim that Indian troops, far from separating the two sides, have been destroying mosques, raping Muslim women and driving Muslim families out of their homes. There has been no independent verification of these claims.
-Solar News Network, Year 53
Martin had no difficulty in believing the defendants were guilty. Their faces showed it all; not the blank incomprehension of the man-child who doesn't really believe he has committed the crime, but the droll amusement of the man who believed he was going to get away with his misdeeds. He’d seen too many people like them on Earth, men and women who regarded the ghetto as their own private preserve, to think otherwise. No matter what they did, people respected them and covered for them, either out of fear or misplaced loyalty.
He scowled at them, then forced himself to think calmly as the Prosecutor rose to speak again.
“We do not object to disciplining children, provided that such discipline is within reason,” he said. “But Anisa was no little girl to be given a slap on the rump, or told to stand in the corner, or be sent to bed without supper. She was an adult, by our standards, old enough to make her own choices and face the consequences. And even if she hadn't been, I think there will be no disagreement that murder is a completely unacceptable way to punish children!”
He paused, then went on. “There are no grounds for suggesting that Mathew raped her,” he continued. “She was his girlfriend for over a month! If she’d been raped, she could have taken it to the police and he would have been arrested, then tried and sentenced. And there were no grounds for her family to take the law into their own hands. Indeed, they murdered the victim as well as the rapist.
“But Mathew was no rapist.
“There are no grounds for tolerating such a crime,” he concluded. “They murdered their own daughter. They murdered a young man with a decent amount of promise ahead of him. And then they tried to cover it up! On one hand, they claim they did the right thing; on the other, they tried to hide the e
vidence of their crime, as if they knew perfectly well that what they did was wrong, wrong, wrong! They are murderers, plain and simple.
“The Solar Union respects the rights of everyone to live as they choose, as individuals. But the keyword there is individuals! We do not recognise any groups between the individual or the Solar Union as a whole. How can we? We know, from bitter experience, that drawing lines between groups inevitably leads to granting one group rights above other groups ... and eventual racial conflict. The defendants are individuals – and so was their victim. They had every right to disapprove, they had every right to talk her out of it, they had every right – even – to refuse to consider her or her lover part of their family. But they had no right to kill either of them.”
A Learning Experience 2: Hard Lessons Page 22