Science Fiction: GU: Justice Net (Science Fiction, Dystopian, The G.U. Trilogy Book 1)

by David Archer

  Martin was startled, but he kept his face looking cheerful and excited. “Seriously? How? What did you find?”

  “Oh, it was a brainstorm,” she said, giggling. “I checked our front door log. On February eighth, Carson came home just before two o'clock, because we were invited to a big party with one of the University bigwigs. He was right here at home from two o'clock until around five, so he couldn't possibly have been the one to rape that girl, so if they were all raped by the same guy, then it couldn't be him.”

  His mind whirling like a tornado, Martin kept a smile on his face. “That really is brilliant,” he said. “Okay, let me get that information to the investigator. It may be tomorrow before we can do any good, but I'll certainly start pushing now to get him released!”

  Charlotte blew him a kiss. “Oh, Martin, I can't thank you enough! Let me know what they say, please?”

  “Of course I will,” he said. “I'll call you back within fifteen minutes.”

  He cut off the call and immediately logged into the Pennyfarthing identity through his remote access to the CDPA network. Using that, he was able to hack into Carson's and Charlotte's home network logs, and sure enough, there was the entry that showed Carson arriving home before that particular attack even took place. He stared at it for a long moment, trying to figure out what to do, and then it hit him.

  As Pennyfarthing, he logged into the CDPA's security back door in Uber's network. A quick search showed him that Carson was dropped off by one of their vehicles at his door just seconds before the network logged him entering home. He quickly edited the Uber entry so that it appeared he had arrived home an hour later than he actually did.

  He logged out of Uber and sent another message to Inspector Hansen. “Inspector Hansen,” it began, “it has come to my attention that the suspect's home network log shows him entering his home at two p.m. on February eighth. After careful examination of the entry, we have concluded that it appears to have been edited. In addition, Uber's records indicate that he was picked up not far from the scene of the last assault at around two-forty that afternoon, and dropped at his home at two fifty-eight. This assessment is accurate, and you may refer to it in presenting your case to the prosecutor.”

  He looked everything over one more time, then sent the message. It had been almost fifteen minutes since he had talked to Charlotte, so he logged out of the network and called her back.

  “Charlotte,” he began, allowing a little bit of stress to be audible in his voice. “I spoke to the investigator, and told him about your discovery, but he said they had already found that. For some reason, they think the entry had been edited, changed to show him getting there a little earlier than he really did. Can you be certain about what time he got home that day?”

  “Well, of course I can, it's right there in the logs,” she said. “I remember he came home early from work, and needed to take a shower, so we—he jumped in the shower, and then shaved and got dressed, and then we left a little while later.”

  Martin frowned. “So, if he got home at two, and you left at five, it took him three hours to shower and change clothes?”

  Charlotte stared at him for a moment, her face turning red. “Well, no, but—well, I actually ended up in the shower with him, and one thing led to another — so that took some time, too.”

  Martin grinned at her. “Wow, what a mental image you just gave me,” he said. “Still, three hours? Are you sure you were able to keep track of time properly, considering what was going on? Don't get me wrong, I believe you, but we're not up against what I believe. We have to figure out how to convince an investigator, a prosecutor and a magistrate.”

  She sat there and just looked at him for another long moment. “So, they're not going to trust my memory of how long he was here, especially if they don't even trust the computer log. How could that entry possibly be edited, anyway? I can't imagine that Carson knows how to change that sort of information.”

  Martin shrugged. “He probably doesn't, and it's probably just a mistake. I personally don't think our computer people are all that bright. Unfortunately, prosecutors and magistrates just about swear by them, and that's what we're dealing with. I'll keep digging, and see if I can find out who's behind that report. If I can, then maybe I can convince them to take another look.”

  Charlotte wiped away a tear from her cheek. “This isn't going to just go away easily, is it? He's not coming home tonight, is he?”

  Martin made a sympathetic face. “I'm afraid not,” he said. “Once a case gets opened, there are certain procedures that have to be followed before it can be closed, and none of those things happen quickly. You need to prepare yourself for the possibility that this could last a while.”

  She sniffled, and another tear made its way down her face. “Martin—he couldn't possibly be convicted of something like this, could he? Something I know he didn't do, I mean?”

  He switched to an encouraging smile. “No, of course not. Our justice system is the best one the world has ever known, and if there's one thing you can be certain of, it's that an innocent man has nothing to fear. Only guilty people ever get sent to Justice Net, trust me on that. If he's innocent, and I believe you that he is, then he'll be back home sometime soon.”

  Charlotte stared at him through the HD for almost a minute before she said another word, and then she smiled. “You want to know a secret about me?”

  “Of course I do,” he said. “Anything you want to tell me, I want to know.”

  She licked her lips, and he thought it was one of the most exciting things he'd ever seen. “I don't want you to think I'm terrible,” she said, “I mean, with Carson going through this terrible situation, but—if you want to come over for a while, I think I could use some company. See, I have this little problem; I, um, I'm afraid to be alone at night.”

  She watched him carefully, looking for any sign of a negative reaction, but all she saw was a huge smile. “Are you sure you won't have any regrets, later?” Martin asked.

  Charlotte shrugged her shoulders, and smiled at him. “I don't think so,” she said. “And this is probably the only chance we're ever going to get to actually spend the night together.”

  Martin winked at her. “Then, we don't want to miss out on the chance, do we? I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Charlotte's eyes sparkled with flirtation. “I'll be waiting,” she said.

  FOURTEEN

  One of the biggest changes brought to the world by the advent of the Global Union was the streamlining of the world's justice systems. The wide and popular acceptance of technology throughout the world during the transition meant that it was much easier to prove guilt or innocence, which surprisingly resulted in a high number of acquittals in the first few years. AI systems that were almost one hundred percent effective in determining whether someone was telling the truth or lying, combined with computer-driven forensics that could reach conclusions in an hour that had always taken weeks or months in the past, meant that evidence could be trusted again. Rumors of innocent people being convicted of crimes still abounded, but every trial and court proceeding could now be viewed through Cloudcast by anyone who chose to watch, so not very many people actually believed that it really happened.

  In addition, GU courts had outlawed theatrics. Attorneys who tried to push witnesses into making damning confessions or bullied people into breakdowns on the stand were no longer welcome. A case had to have merits on facts and evidence, without any attempt to play on the emotions of the magistrates who served on the decision panel.

  Juries were also a thing of the past. GU courts were conducted as tribunals, with three magistrates hearing all of the evidence and voting on a verdict. A verdict, whether for conviction or acquittal, had to be unanimous, and if it was not, then the case would be sent to another court to be tried again. If it still failed to get a unanimous vote, then the charge would be summarily dismissed and the defendant would be set free.

  Once this new system was accepted as the norm
, it quickly became evident that it was quite successful. Acquittals were rare, and even rarer were dismissals based on an inability to get a unanimous verdict. Convictions, on the other hand, were often swift and certain.

  Carson was taken back before the magistrate the day after he was arrested, for what was known as a Presentment Hearing. In a Presentment Hearing, it was incumbent upon the prosecutor to enumerate the specific items of evidence that would be introduced at trial. Once each item was announced and described, then the prosecutor would explain to the court and to the defendant precisely what verdict the prosecutor would expect. This would allow the defendant to make an informed decision on the plea he or she would enter.

  Carson was walked into the courtroom and seated in a small booth with transparent plastic walls. A moment later, a woman walked into the booth and sat down in the chair beside him.

  “I'm Kate Spencer,” she said, “and I've been appointed as your public defender. Is there anything you can tell me about this case that isn't already covered in the evidence disclosure that I received this morning?”

  “Yeah, I can tell you that I didn't do it! I've never hurt anybody in my life, ask my DP. She'll tell you, I've never even pushed it with her, let alone actually rape somebody.”

  Kate was looking through documents on her holo-tab, and didn't answer for a moment. When she did, it was with a frown on her face. “All three of the victims have positively identified you as their assailant,” she said, “you have no alibi for two of the attacks, and on the third one they say it looks like you fiddled with some computer records to make it look like you were at home, even though you weren't.” She turned and looked at him. “Somehow, you managed not to show up on any commonway cameras, or any other cameras that could show you were somewhere else. I gotta be honest, Professor, I don't have a lot to work with, here.”

  “But, but I didn't do it! I didn't do any of them! There's got to be some way to prove that, doesn't there? What about alibis? I keep a pretty detailed record on everything I do, that should prove I wasn’t around when some of these rapes took place.”

  Kate shrugged. “According to the investigators, there’s nothing in your records that places you somewhere else when they happened. I'm going to get additional veracity parameters on you and all of the victims, so that we can say who's at least trying to tell the truth. Everything I see so far seems to indicate that the victims are being honest, but one of the AIs says you're telling the truth, too. Of course, it's all subjective; all the computer can really say is that you believe what you're saying. There's no way to determine if it's actually the truth in the sense of what really happened.”

  “What happened is that they got the wrong guy!” Carson said emphatically. “I don't even know how this could happen, people just know me better than this!”

  The lawyer looked at him skeptically. “Do they? Do you know how many serial killers and murderers have turned up, despite the fact that all their neighbors said they were such nice people? There really is such a thing as a high-functioning psychopath, someone who can seem perfectly normal most of the time and still commit acts that are horrendous. There's nothing new about that, it's been going on probably since the dawn of time. I'll bet there was a caveman who used to sneak around and knock people in the head with his club, but everybody thought he was just a super nice fellow.”

  Carson stared at her for a moment, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. “But—but I never did any of this! I know that, no matter what anybody else thinks.”

  Kate shrugged. “What we've got to do is find some way to make the magistrates believe you, and if we can convince the victims, too, that would be excellent. If we can get them to express any doubt about the identification of you as the rapist, then that throws doubt on the whole charge. Even if one of them still insists it was you, if two of them would admit you might not be, we have a defense we could work with.”

  “I can't even understand how they could think it was me in the first place,” Carson said. “I mean, I guess it's possible that whoever did it looked like me, but that doesn't change the fact that it wasn't me! I don't know how in the world someone could be so similar to me that they could think I was the one who did this to them.”

  Once again, Kate shrugged her shoulders. “It happens all the time,” she said. “An investigator keeps pushing a picture of someone in front of the victim, asking them over and over if this is the perpetrator, and after a while they come to believe that it has to be. It's one of the worst possible ways to get an identification, but investigators do it all the time. It stinks, but unless we can prove that’s what happened, it just doesn’t help anything. The investigators are obviously going to insist they never did any such thing, so it’s hard to prove.”

  “Then how do we get them to express doubt? Do I just keep insisting it wasn't me, and hope they start to wonder?”

  Nodding, Kate said, “That's exactly what you do. If you can keep your story straight, and sound believable, then we have a good chance of making at least a couple of them start to wonder if they were wrong. If I can get them to admit that when they testify, then it's going to make the magistrates wonder whether they really thought it was you, or if maybe they got pushed into the identification. That should be enough for acquittal based on reasonable doubt.”

  A chime sounded through a speaker over their heads, and Kate stood up and turned to leave. “We're about to get started, but this isn't where we get to confront the witnesses. This is just the formal arraignment. I'm going to ask for bail, but you need to be prepared for the fact that it isn't likely the magistrate will grant it.”

  She stepped out of the little room and took a seat behind a table just in front of it. A couple of minutes later, the magistrate walked in and the bailiff told everyone to rise.

  “All present, be aware that the Court of Presentment is now in session, Magistrate the Honorable Harold Jenkins presiding. Everyone be seated.”

  Everyone sat—there were only a handful of people in the room, and the only ones Carson knew at all were his lawyer and Inspector Hansen. The magistrate was seated at the bench, looking at a holographic display that rose over it.

  “This is the Presentment Hearing for Carson Pace. Mr. Pace stands accused of three counts of rape, and the particulars have been provided to all parties. Appearing for the District is Prosecutor Leonard Kendall, and for the defense, Attorney Kate Spencer. Mr. Kendall, you have the floor.”

  The prosecutor stood at his table and looked over at Carson in his transparent booth. “May it please the Court,” he said as he turned his eyes toward the magistrate, “the District is prepared to show evidence that the defendant, Carson Pace, stalked and attacked three women at the University, forcing them into sexual acts which constitute the crime of rape. He has been positively identified by all three of the victims as their attacker, and is unable to account for his whereabouts at the time the attacks took place. His DNA is a probable match, allowing for errors, to the DNA of the assailant, which was recovered from the victims. Computer records have been searched, and there is no evidence to support any of his claims of alibi. Further, we have an assessment from a Special Unit IT Investigator which states that an entry log at his home was edited to show him arriving earlier than was actually true, and this is substantiated by Uber records. The District believes that he is in fact guilty, and a danger to our society. We ask the Court to order him held for trial on these charges: first, the charge of Stalking, three counts; second, the charge of Assault, three counts; and third, the charge of Rape, also three counts.”

  Kendall took his seat again, and the magistrate looked at Kate. “Ms. Spencer?”

  Kate stood and looked the magistrate in the eye. “My defense of Mr. Pace is based upon the procedures by which the investigators in this case acquired the identification. None of the victims had ever been able to provide a description of their attacker, beyond the simple matter of size and build, but now they suddenly all remember seeing their assailant's face, a
fter being shown photographs of my client, despite the fact that one of them had once stated that the attacker was about the size of my client, but that it was not him. The fact that my client is unable to unequivocally prove that he was elsewhere at the time is irrelevant to the case, for there is no law requiring our citizens to keep a record of their day-to-day activities, and as for the DNA similarity, anything less than ninety-nine percent must be considered unreliable in the absence of other, confirming physical evidence. The only possibly real evidence that the District intends to present is the identification by three victims who have never been able to describe the face of their attacker in the past. It is therefore my contention that the identification is flawed, and was essentially orchestrated by the investigators. Such identifications have been used as grounds for dismissal in the past, and I believe that this will be true in this case, as well. Therefore, I ask the Court to set bail for my client, so that he may return to work until such time as his trial may commence.”

  She sat down again, and the magistrate began looking at his HD again. “Mr. Kendall, do you have any other evidence besides the identification of the victims that you will be presenting?”

  “Your Honor, we believe the identification is sufficient. However, we would also restate that there was apparent tampering with the entry log of the defendant's apartment door, which seems to have recorded his entry at a time other than when he actually arrived home. Transportation records show that he was picked up not far from where the third attack took place, less than five minutes after it happened, and delivered home more than an hour after his entry log would seem to indicate. We believe this shows that he was aware that at least one of his attackers might have recognized him, and that he attempted to create an alibi. Together with the identifications, we believe this shows a pattern of guilt.”