In Defense of Guilt

by Benjamin Berkley

  Out of options, Maze had to act fast. Placing the stake on the hardwood floor and prepared to thrust himself upon it. Just then—

  “Maze.”

  Maze turned to the calm, soothing voice of God.

  “Don’t move, mister!” The bailiff shouted, cocking back his pistol.

  “Maze, this is not the way.”

  “But I killed her,” he wept.

  Thinking Maze was addressing him, the bailiff got down into a low stance. “Put it down, now!”

  “Your sins are forgiven you, My son.”

  “But I killed her,” Maze sobbed, looking up at God through blurred vision.

  “This is the last time I’m gonna say it. Put it down,” the bailiff ordered.

  “Still, they are forgiven,” God reached out a hand to him.

  The bailiff applied pressure to the trigger. He couldn’t allow things to escalate any further. If this guy insists on playing games, I’m ending this, he thought.

  “You forgive me?” Maze said, dropping the stake. Slowly, he stood, placing his hands obediently in the air.

  “Yeah, buddy, I forgive you,” the bailiff said, lowering his pistol. “Get your hands behind your back.” Then he added an afterthought as he cuffed him: “You have no idea how close you came to meeting God, just now,” Two uniformed officers rushed in to assist.

  “I never condemned you, Maze,” God reassured him. “Now, come with me.”

  Turning to the bailiff, Maze smiled. “Already have.”

  “Takes all kinds. Come on, walk.”

  The three officers led Maze out of the courtroom. It wasn’t the added presence of the two officers flanking each side keeping him in check, but the firm, gentle grip of the Father upon his left shoulder.

  Dennis and Constance, seeing it was safe to move, ran to Ryan and Lauren. With their combined help, Ryan was able to get to his feet.

  “Just a scratch,” Ryan winced. “I’ll be okay. War wound.” He smiled. Then, turning to Lauren, “I didn’t think you cared.”

  “I don’t,” Lauren smiled.

  The gavel banged. “Can we please have a medic in here,” Judge Howell shouted from the bench. She was glad things were beginning to quiet, but she honestly couldn’t wait to get back to her chambers. She needed a drink, the stiffer, the better.

  Dennis ripped Ryan’s shirtsleeve open. “Good, it’s not arterial. You’re gonna be okay.”

  “What the heck made him go off like that? One minute he was fine, the next—” Ryan trailed off in contemplation.

  “His conscience. Couldn’t live with himself anymore: his crime or the lies to cover it,” Lauren suggested.

  Constance lovingly hugged her mother, glad she had not been injured in the melée. “Mom, are you going to represent him again if he asks?”

  Lauren looked up at the great seal of California, glad to put the trial behind her. But she was certain she was going to be okay. More than ever, she was looking forward to that long-needed vacation, but this time, she’d be on that beach with her husband and daughter beside her. Lauren sighed and glanced down at her daughter.

  “Not no. Hell, no.”