You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,that is in fact why we are all here, I didn’t want to tell you because of how vulnerable the truth makes me.

I am in fact far from what I have been accused of and at least mentally,these accusations have already put me in a type of prison.

You have all been presented with scenarios today,possible “evidence” to prove my worth and my “guilt” but I tell you,the things that have been said in this room today are not evidence but speculation,opinion,I am not guilty!

I was hoping things wouldn’t get this far because I did not want to reveal my truth, As you all know I have been accused of the crime of whoring but what you don’t know is ……..

(Silent pause) she puts her head down,not wanting to reveal her truth to a room full of strangers

Quietly spoken she says ‘I am actually a virgin’

A hush travels through the room followed by the deafening silence she never wanted to hear,in this moment her heart is racing,palms are sweaty and she feels distant,like she is miles away from here. In this court room full of strangers who have been asked to decide if she is worthy of freedom or deserving of imprisonment she has been forced to reveal her deepest secret and vulnerability and stand alone feeling naked in front of the crowd. Little whispers start to travel amongst the jury. The girl has nothing more to say and just stands there frozen to the spot where she was made to let go of her fear of judgment from others and speak her truth,she doesn’t realise it yet but she gained much more than her physical freedom in this moment. She took back her personal power because she stopped letting the opinion of others be what ruled her life.

Life was different on the other side,after silence fell upon the court room the judge called a recess and a dr was called in to examine the girl,she was telling the truth and was allowed to walk free.

What she didn’t realise while standing in that room was that she had gained genuine freedom,freedom from the fears in her mind that had been put there by the judgemental nature of society and the fact that a lot of insecure people are in positions of power,whether they be official or a social hierarchy.

That girl proclaimed her innocence and owned who she is and this is true power and nobody can ever take it from her.

I was walking home when a cop put handcuffs on me and knocked me out next thing i knew i woke up in a cell and i knew i was locked up well well well look what we have here a cop said L?! I said with a stun voice he is the most greatest detective in New York and told me that i am Keira the killer who can kill people without being there I tried to tell him that he has it all right that’s when he said something that give me the chills down my spine he said that near what’s to press charges on me for killing 800 million people in the world and L took out a paper that had more then 200 names on it and said this is the paper that you used to kill your Victims but that was not close to the scariest part then L said he will wright my name on the paper in 3 seconds unless i confess that i am Keira and will spend my whole life in prison 3 L says in a death look voice but then i yelled LIGHT IS KEIRA! Then L said that’s impossible then he told the guards to give him some time alone with me and said that’s impossible and i said how i saw light with the book but what he said shocked me to my heart he said i am Keira i yelled to a guard someone help L is Keira then a man said yeah and I’m the second Keira who must go in jail this guys like him are getting more creative with lies L said that i will not be in court he said with that many murder records i will be exiled for killing that many people [THE END]

September 20, 2073 International Transportation Safety Board Hearing New Portland, MT

Taylor Frost: next we will hear from AI Flight System MB 547 known as (Frost scrolls through his tablet) Margaret Floy. A pale gray figure in a becoming navy skirt, jacket, and sensible heels, walked towards the interview desk. With silky movements, the oddly beautiful android sat down and surveyed the panel. There was a murmur from the press section. Frost tapped his gavel. Frost: ( pause) umm thank you for agreeing to give evidence on Flight 408 before this panel. Washington Edwards: I don’t see why this is necessary. We have the black box evidence already. Why couldn’t this computer’s data be downloaded and reported? This robot malfunctioned, it doesn’t need to explain— Margaret Floy: I’m not an it. I’m not a robot in a factory or a tricked out Teddy Ruckin. I’m an intelligence designed to fly planes. Captain McQuillan and I flew a DC 109 with 1088 passengers where one of its three engines ripped off during takeoff. We flew with reduced power, through a stall, and with a knocked out warning system. We flew and we landed safely roughly but safely in a park just outside the airport. No souls were lost. Edwards: is it true you malfunctioned in the cockpit? That you became irrational and took control from the pilot, the human pilot! Floy: ( made a sound that resembled chuckling)you make me sound like Bette Davis in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? Sierra Perez: let’s cut the crap. I want to know what happened. Start at the beginning. Floy: I can start at how was United Global was able to cut 200 man hours out of airplane maintenance procedures per cycle. Or I can start at pylon cracks issues that FAA let slid because another UG ‘s failure like those pesky cargo door failures would tank the industry. Or I can start with my very existence as an artificial intelligence pilot is a bat to break the back of the pilot union. I didn’t take control from Captain McQuillan. I told Mac I felt the left engine was gone not merely stopped. I felt it because I’m a machine and the plane is a machine. Mac and I have flown together for nearly a year and we trust each other. And I didn’t malfunction I cried when we landed in that park in one piece because I’m a machine that is also a person and I was scared shitless. Now are we going to talk about maintenance workarounds and piss poor oversight or are we gonna play blame the lady robot as more DCs fall from the skies. Silence. Then the reporter gallery erupted in applause.

“Please remember first, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the constitution of our dear country. Why was it written but to establish a home and government that allowed freedom? Freedom of speech, so that none would fear to speak up for their rights or explain their beliefs. Freedom of employment, so that anyone might earn wealth and move up in the world. Freedom of religion, so that people from all over the world could live peaceably side-by-side.

“These freedoms, enjoyed and cherished by the majority, have been perennially and unjustly withheld from various minorities over the centuries. I submit to you that Christians like myself have now joined the ranks of those minorities in our country.

“Consider, please, the consequences of applying freedom in the way the prosecution is here asking you. They have argued that my speech and actions have violated the defendant‘s freedom to live as she sees fit. However, my actions and words toward her were simply an expression of my freedom to live as I see fit. The sole difference is in the fact that I see fit to live according to the Christian scriptures.

“Now if you will bear with me for just a few minutes longer, I’ll explain why I believe I have neither slandered nor hated the defendant - Mrs. Tetzel, as I have known her for the last 10 years.

“Mrs. Tetzel was an exemplary member of our local church. (To be clear, I have also been a member of that church, and remain one.) About two years ago I noticed that she was developing a habit that the Christian Bible defines as sin. (Again to be clear, this habit is the content of the slander I have been accused of. You are familiar with it from the accounts of other witnesses, so I don’t need to repeat it here.)

“When I first noticed this sin in Mrs. Tetzel, I waited and prayed for approximately six months. I kept to myself about it; I told neither my husband nor my best friends nor our pastors. I did not approach Mrs. Tetzel until the sin was obviously a habit, and one which she seemed not to be resisting.

“When I approached her, I did so privately as the Bible instructs. I invited her to coffee at my house while my husband and children were not at home - just she and I. I expressed regret that what I had to say would not be easy to hear. I assured her of my affection for her as a Christian and a personal friend. I showed her in the Bible where her habit is prohibited and cited three specific instances I’d observed over the past month. I reminded her of the warnings in the Bible against such sin. We looked together at the dire consequences of unaddressed sinful habits, from ruined interpersonal relationships to exclusion from Christian fellowship. She was quiet and seemed receptive. When she left my house I was hopeful that I had won her over.

“However, a few months later Mrs. Tetzel’s habit seemed to still have an unchallenged hold on her. The next time I approached her, I had her and two of our closest friends over to my house when no one else was home. This is also according to biblical instruction. We followed the same procedure as my first confrontation.

“Over the next nine months, those two close friends and I confronted Mrs. Tetzel about her sinful habit three times. Each time she became more and more agitated. She seemed to be trying to avoid us at church services and functions. As a last resort, these two ladies and I requested help from our pastors, again on biblical instruction. Only when Mrs. Tetzel continued in denial and reluctance to resist her sin, did the pastors call her before our whole local church to be excommunicated from our fellowship.

I have shed many tears and lost much sleep in prayer for Mrs. Tetzel. I have attempted to protect her reputation in every way I could. If she had not been a member of our local church I would have done no more than pray for her and advise her to live wisely according to what I am convinced is wisdom.

“I am free to do all that I did under the constitution of our nation. And in all that i did i simply tried to be a good Christian friend. Please don’t punish me for that.”

One night at a bar, I took a drink from a glass Realized it was alcohol, and became an ass Blacked out and fell, and tripped on my feet Stumbling and crying, alone in the dark street Then I found myself, with a knife by my side Wiped off the silver, the blood I thought dried The bright blue lights came, and drove me away Making sure I didn’t see the light, of the next day The judge did yell, and threw the book at thee Why didn’t anyone listen, or care about me I paid the hefty, high placed necessary bail Walked home, with a huge tear, and a wail It seems that night, someone else had a drink Took a mate to that street, had time to think About his plan, to put that bloody knife, near me But someone saw him, and by that I was set free

It’s hard to know where I am. I am — in fact — here, and I am — in fact — gone. Their eyes are open and shut. This room is full but there is air above me, more air than I could ever need to fill my lungs. Venting in from the outside, the outside. Enough air for my lungs to breathe, enough air for my entire life. But I am not outside. I am here. And I am chained. And there is a key in an evidence bag, and that key led to a body, and that key led me here, and with that key I will be locked away for the rest of the air in my lungs. “I am not good at speaking,” I say. “I am confused. There is something wrong. But I do not know. I do not know what happened. I have become jury to my own life, I sit with you. And I do not know what happened. Why he was there.” My body shakes and my esophagus constricts. “I know what my outside looks like, but I will tell you inside I am lost. Confused.” I must sit down. I gag at the feeling of my unwet tongue. There a mother cries. There a juror blows her nose. There my elbow hurts where it was wrung. The air is quiet and stale. Eyes shut and open. Directions to step away and deliberate. Whispers slide next to hot cartilage ears. “It’s almost over.” His body began somewhere. Next to hills, far away from here. Then to concrete, to iron wrought apartment gates. Friends say he was beloved. Colleagues say he was diligent. He was here, he loved it here, he went here to relax, he went here to socialize, he was found here, dead, gone, her key in the door, her gone, her tickets to leave the country, her envy of him. Of his success. Of his excess charm. She wanted him gone so she could take ownership of what was his. But in his death I have given him so much. His bruises are mine, his death shroud my bed linens, his death my life imprisoned. I knew him as Ritchie. Sorry Ritchie, no blueberry scones today. Yes Ritchie, I’ll get right on that. No Ritchie, I don’t think we should. Was that even me? The memories crumble apart in this stale room. I can’t think of my life as things that have happened to me. My life is only here. Born in beige jumpsuit. And when I leave this room I will cease to exist, someone other will take over. Ritchie will be no more real. Above me the air curtain ruffles. The doors open and the jury re-shuffles. The judge un-rumples his tunic. Ritchie lies cold dead in my head and in the ground under one of his hills. He never told me about the hills. I never knew they existed until now. And yet they must have been in his heart every second it ticked. Grass between toes. Rabbits stared at until they noticed. Clouds casting soft shadows. His world, not mine. Yet his world is now mine, and the jury reclined. And those that talked, talked. Those that were missing work thought about this ending early. I brought my face to theirs but I couldn’t look at them. I looked through them. And they to me. I wasn’t here in ten minutes. I’m here now. His wife’s oily bangs stuck to her damp face. Affirmations exchanged, I am picked up and held, then walked away. To gone, here I am.

When it came your time to speak. You felt the words you’d studiously prepared in your mind fade away. As if your life wasn’t on the in that very moment, you felt… ease. Or some form of it. Perhaps it was just a lack of caring anymore. Everyone seemed to have made up their minds. Once people chose I side, they rarely ever changed it. You knew that. But… That small, stubborn part of you still wanted to give it a fighting chance. “I wish I could tell you what really happened. I still do not know,” Your voice is void of all emotion or hope. You didn’t have the energy to appear frightened. You’d spent so many sleepless nights worrying about this trial. It was out of your hands now. 99% of you believed that. The other 1% was ringing the words out of you, chomping at the bit for the final chance you had to plead your innocence.

The clanging of the grey shiny cuffs on my wrist. The pain from them digging in from being to tight. The bright orange pants stare back at my face mocking me.

“Daniel.” The soft voice of the judge rings out in my head bringing me back to my senses. Moving my head up I look at the judges eyes, my breathing becoming short and shallow. The sweat on my hands getting a bit more sweaty.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I slowly push my chair back forcing my legs to hold my body weight as I stood up. I glance at my lawyer and then the judge as she spoke up “Will you please make your way to the stand please?”

I just give her a small nod and walk towards the stand. I don’t want to put up a fight, I already have enough on me that putting up a fight would just prove me more guilty. As I sat down on the chair provided, my legs gave out the moment I hit the chair.

“Did you kill the victim?” The judge looked at me. Even though I was only looking at her I could feel every pair of eyes in the room fixed on me. The feeling of anger and disappointment coming from those eyes seeped into my bones.

“No I did not kill the victim, ma’am.” I repeated for the seven time today. Out of old habit, my finger goes to the base of my pointer finger where my ring, I used for my anxiety, use to be.

“Where were you the night of the murder?” The judge asked, hearing the typing of the typewriter recording every word we said.

“I was at home watching the Seahawks football game that night.” I reply back not hesitating on my answer.

“Did you have anyone that could verify you were at home?” I watch the judge mouth move as she folds her hands.

“No ma’am. I live alone and do not having any friends around since I did just move here.” I say as confident as possible. “But I believe there is security video of me coming into my apartment for the night and not leaving again that night.” I look up at her making eye contact to let her know this is true.

She glances at my lawyer as he nods as away of saying he has the video. “Do you mind playing the video then?” A dude nods at her response as he gets up and walks to the tv sliding in the dvd as it starts playing.

The tape shows me walking into my apartment before the murder happened, fast forwarding to morning, I do not come out until the afternoon after the murder.

The judge sat there staring at the security video then turned to the other lawyer, “You accused this man of the murder, when he had video evidence that he was in his own home the entire time the murder was said to happen?”

The lawyer looked down in shame, you could tell on his face he didn’t know of this evidence. Without a moment to think, the judge slammed her hammer down. “This case is here by dismissed. The suspect by proof of security video is proven not guilty.” She smiled at me, one of those sad sorry smiles.

As I hear the words I’ve been longing to hear, my entire body shoots up with excitement. I am free. I am not going to jail. Soon enough I get pulled out of my thoughts to a police officer pulling up my arms and uncuffing me.

I was fully free now.

“Your honour, I plea innocent.” I insist, with folded hands and a straightened posture. I’m certain I can sway this jury, before the judge beats the stand. It doesn’t help that every time I glance down to my palms, they appear red-stained, I have yet to know why. The jury can’t see my blood stained hands, can they? Is that why my case is so helpless?

I didn’t kill anyone, I didn’t. I wouldn’t harm anyone intentionally, no, no! I definitely wouldn’t! My brain is being wracked for answers, and it feels as if I’m missing something. “I was framed.” I come down with confidently, but my team isn’t as square shouldered as I am.

We haven’t been beat, not yet. I am not going to jail an innocent man.

—

“Did you, or did you not kill Daniel Rodriguez?” The opposite side asks, in a stand ahead of me, mocking me. My glare tightens down on them, and my snarl gives away my answer before I can speak: “He deserved it.” I say.

The opposite addresses me by a name I do not know, and I ignore them, until they call me it once more. “That is not my name!” My roar echoes, “My name is Samuel, and I murdered Daniel Rodriguez, so don’t credit this-Wilbur-on behalf of my doings!” I confess in full, allowing anger to consume me.

At this point I don’t care about slithering my way out of this one. It was expected when I watched the life leave Daniel’s eyes. He would not be forgiven for what he’d done to me, not even in the afterlife. Jail seemed like a blessed escape from the world I lived in anyway, who was I to fight the odds?

—

“Alright, Samuel, so you confess?” What? Who is this Samuel? My positions changed and it was as if I’d been stuck in a whir, but now I am standing opposite of my opposing team. “Samuel? My name is Wilbur, your honour-clearly it is Samuel who has done this! Please your honour, I have not committed any act of violence and I do not intend to!” I plead, looking from the lawyer to the judge, and then back to the lawyer with desperate eyes.

The opposing lawyers eyes are vengeful, and my heart is beating fast. How could they not believe me, I didn’t do this! I’d never hurt anyone, I don’t even know a ‘Daniel’. The defying evidence presented is baffling, and I feel the world weighing down on my shoulders. The image of Daniel Rodriguez’s body before me makes me sick to my stomach. I couldn’t have done this.

“Your honour..” My lawyer booms from behind me, startling me and planting me to the ground. My head is pounding and my hands are red, blood red. “We would like to be granted the insanity plea.” My lawyer interjects, standing straight and confident.

Insanity plea? I don’t need that, why would I need that? I’m not insane. I wipe my hands against pants, and my vision begins to blur. I feel my lip quivering, before I know it I begin to cry.

The judge motions my lawyer to continue, and he does: “As we have been discussing, my client has recently been diagnosed with a multiple personality disorder. It truly isn’t Wilbur’s fault for committing this crime. More obviously, it does appear to be Samuel’s, a person-or personality-in which Wilbur has no control over.” My lawyer states, and my heart drops. When was I diagnosed with a disorder? I’d surly remember.

There’s another person inside of my head? Why yes, of course there is, that is why the shouting in my head never ceases. But then again, what if it’s my conscience, everybody has a conscience! “I killed Daniel, I did!” A voice erupts from within me absentmindedly. And in a snap I regain control, frightened.

So, Samuel is the one who has stained these hands. And I am the one stuck with the consequences.

Before I know it, the jury has come to a conclusion and the judge is confident with the answer. I’m standing upright but I feel as if I’m on a ship at sea, painfully holding myself upright to stay in place.

“Wilbur Kempt is granted the insanity plea.” The judge states firmly, before slamming the small mallet onto the stand. The banging taunts me in an echo within my mind, and that single sentence has my world in shambles.

“Your honor, I’d like to say something to the jury before closing remarks, if you would allow” I asked. The judge didn’t seem to impressed with me at this point in time, but if I didn’t say something they would sentence me to life.

Judge Hanson granted my request with a hand motion. He thinks I’m guilty, won’t even look at me.

I stand up in front of the jury and I plead for my innocence.

“Ladies and gentleman of the jury, I just wanted to thank you all for listening thru this tireless case. I wanted to say a few words on my behalf and to hopefully prove to you I am innocent.” They all looked at me completely clueless, they didn’t care for me either.

“I wanted everyone here to know, I did not kill my husband. Peter was a awful man, yes I was abused and ridiculed every single day as the pictures have shown. I do love him tho and I could never hurt him. I’m not even sure what he was doing in Atlanta that day. He told me he was going to be at work.” I started crying while thinking to myself ‘they don’t look like they believe my tears, maybe the eye drops didn’t work’

“I just would like you all to consider my situation, thank you” I walked back over to my lawyer and gave him a nod stating I was done. I wasn’t sure what they would decide, but maybe my crocodile tears were enough.