Mercy For None

Negligence Or Malice?

“Objection, My Lord!” The voice of the defense attorney echoed sharply across the solemn courtroom. All eyes turned toward the tall man. He gestured toward the prosecutor, pointing a finger at herr “The line of questioning implies guilt without evidence, Your Honor. It prejudices the jury and misrepresents the facts.”

The judge, a gray-haired man, tapped his gavel lightly. “Sustained,” he said. “Counsel, please restrain your remarks to the facts presented and the evidence at hand.”

A thin sigh escaped the lips of the prosecutor, a woman in her early forties. She leaned slightly forward, resting her forearms on the edge of the long table. “Thank you, Your Honor. I will endeavor to remain factual,” she said.

Riley sat in the dock, clasping his hands tightly on his lap. He stared down at the floor, avoiding the gaze of the prosecutor.

The defense attorney turned smoothly to the jury, his voice calm. “Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to consider the circumstances carefully before passing judgment on my client. It is all too easy to point fingers and assume negligence, but the truth is rarely so straightforward. My client, Riley Collins, is being accused of ignoring emergency calls intentionally, leading to the death of the newly married couple and their two-month-old daughter. The prosecution would have you believe he acted with intent, yet there is more to this story”

He paused, letting the silence settle in the courtroom before continuing. “During the period in question, it has been brought to our attention, through multiple investigative reports, that the emergency calls from the victim may have been intercepted. Someone, unknown at this time, had in fact taken the victim’s company emergency phone and prevented the call from reaching my client. This is not speculation. This is a fact, Your Honor, and I intend to present it to you. In fact, my client didn’t even see the emergency calls because of this, talkless of ignoring them.”

Riley’s eyes flickered briefly to his attorney, both of them filled with a mixture of hope and fear.

The prosecutor raised her hand slightly. “Your Honor, while the defense seeks to introduce a theory of a stolen phone, we have evidence showing that Riley had multiple opportunities to respond to the emergency. Negligence, in this case, is not contingent on the presence of the device but on the actions or inactions of the defendant.”

The defense attorney nodded, acknowledging her point. “Indeed, Your Honor, the duty of a firefighter is clear, yet the intent matters. My client did not willfully ignore a call to action. The prosecution seeks to confuse negligence with malice. The fact remains that if my client’s emergency phone was stolen, the call never reached him. It is a critical distinction that the jury must understand, and it cannot be ignored simply because it is inconvenient to the prosecution’s narrative.”

The judge leaned back slightly, steepling his fingers. “Let the record show the objection and the response. Counsel, proceed carefully. The court expects clarity and relevance, not speculation or conjecture.”

A slow murmur rose from the gallery. Reporters scribbled in notebooks while others whispered softly to each other. The defense attorney turned once more to the jury, his voice low and confident.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the truth is often hidden in details overlooked by haste and anger. It is easy to condemn someone when the full picture is obscured. I ask you to hold your judgment until all evidence has been presented, until the layers of this case are fully revealed, and until you have heard not only the story of failure, but the story of circumstance and misfortune that my client has endured.”

The prosecutor, undeterred, leaned forward slightly. “Your Honor, we will show that this is not merely about misfortune. It is about choices that had dire consequences for three innocent lives. We intend to present evidence that these choices were not merely circumstantial but demonstrably negligent.”

Riley’s gaze fell to his trembling hands again. The prosecutor rose once more, her eyes fixed on Riley.

“Your Honor, this case cannot be detached from the personal life of the defendant. It has been confirmed that Riley’s wife intended to divorce him after using his life savings to treat her dying mother. This trauma, ladies and gentlemen, is not irrelevant. It shows the emotional state of the defendant at the time. A man abandoned, humiliated, and betrayed may very well choose to shut his heart against calls for help. Perhaps, in his wounded pride, he decided that if his world was crumbling, then others’ cries could fall on deaf ears as well.”

Murmurs rippled through the courtroom. At the back, a journalist scribbled furiously before whispering to his colleague, “This will make the headlines; Firefighter ignores calls, leading to the death of three people because of a broken marriage.”

“As a matter of fact,” the person she was referring to responded, nodding twice in agreement. “Personal pain doesn’t excuse duty. He swore an oath.”

The defense attorney stood up immediately.

“Objection, Your Honor! The prosecution seeks to paint my client as a man consumed by his marital problems, as if heartbreak equals intent to kill. That is conjecture and nothing more. Yes, my client suffered betrayal. He gave all he had to save his mother-in-law’s life, only to be served divorce papers by his wife. But to suggest that this would turn him into a man who would willingly ignore emergency calls is an insult to logic and to justice. Trauma explains pain, not criminal intent.”

He turned slightly, gesturing toward the jury.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we cannot try a man’s heart in this courtroom. We must try his actions or, in this case, the lack of evidence of his actions. There is no proof that Riley Collins intentionally ignored those calls. This is only the prosecution’s attempt to link his heartbreak to tragedy, as if emotion alone proves negligence. But law does not run on sympathy or assumption. It runs on facts.”

The judge tapped his gavel softly.

“Objection noted. Counsel, remain within the scope of evidence.”

The prosecutor did not waver. She leaned forward.

“Very well, Your Honor. Let us also speak of Riley’s so-called record of service. He created a social media page, carefully curated with pictures of those he claimed to have rescued in the past. He presented himself as a hero and a savior. Was this the joy of saving lives, or was it for fame and money? This obsession with image suggests a man more concerned with reputation than with duty.”

Murmurs rippled in the gallery again, and the defense attorney stepped forward immediately.

“Your Honor, the prosecution again is misleading the court. My client’s page was not created for fame or financial gain. It was built to inspire, to show the world that good people still exist, and that ordinary men can risk their lives for strangers. He has never received a penny from those pictures. To reduce his service to vanity is to dishonor the very lives he risked everything to save. If every firefighter who shared his story were guilty of arrogance, then half the nation’s heroes would be condemned.”

Riley, seated quietly, lifted his head. The judge looked over his glasses and muttered, “Let us proceed. You will both have time to present evidence to support your claims. The jury must decide not on speculation, but on fact. Now, continue.”

The prosecutor rose again, her heels clicking against the polished wood as she walked to the center of the courtroom.

“Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” she began, “we have entertained arguments, objections, and even sentiment in this courtroom. But the time has come to ground this matter in what cannot be denied and that is evidence.”

The defense attorney stiffened slightly, moving his hands along the edge of the table.

“This is not a case of assumptions, nor is it merely about the defendant’s broken marriage. It is about choice. And today, this court will see the irrefutable proof that the defendant chose to ignore those emergency calls.”

Gasps rippled across the courtroom, and the jury exchanged glances. Riley shifted uncomfortably but kept his gaze fixed on the floor.

The prosecutor turned toward the bailiff.

“Kindly dim the lights. I would like to present Exhibit A.”

The large screen at the side of the courtroom flickered on. On the screen, Riley sat on on a table, his eyes locked on the pieces of papers before him, while a phone was constantly ringing right beside him.

“Here, ladies and gentlemen, you can all see that the emergency calls kept coming. Instead of answering the phone, he kept gazing at the divorce papers.”

Riley’s eyes widened in shock as he stared at the video.

“This is a fake deepfake video,” he said loudly, raising his hand toward the screen. “This is a fake video created by someone trying to manipulate me. I was looking for the phone that day, and I never received any divorce papers, talk less of getting carried away while looking at them.”

At once, the defense attorney rose swiftly to his feet.

“Your Honor,” he began, gesturing toward the screen, “my client has openly stated that this video is not genuine. It is a deepfake fabrication. Technology today makes it dangerously easy for anyone with ill intent to produce false visuals and manipulate reality.”

“This cannot be relied upon as irrefutable truth. To convict a man on such questionable material would be a miscarriage of justice.”

The judge leaned back in his chair, tapping the edge of his gavel against the bench. The jury whispered among themselves, some nodding, while others were frowning.

The prosecutor slowly moved forward to the jury box, folding her arms lightly as she fixed her gaze on the defense attorney.

“With all due respect, counselor,” she said, “you may question the authenticity of the video, and you may tell this court that technology is dangerous and perhaps, in a different case, I might agree. But the difference here is corroboration.”

She paused, looking at the jury one by one.

“This is nothing but an authentic video of Riley intentionally ignoring the emergency calls. But if the defendant wishes to dismiss this video, then let us see if he can dismiss a living, breathing witness.”

She turned dramatically toward the doors of the courtroom.

“Your Honor, I call Mrs. Catherine Riley, the wife of the defendant, to the witness box.”

At the sound of his wife’s name, Riley quickly looked up. To his surprise, he saw his wife entering the courtroom slowly, a folder clutched tightly in her hands. He sighed heavily, his face filled with disbelief. Wasn’t it ironic that the very woman for whom he had spent all his life savings to save her mother was now standing against him in court?

As Catherine reached the witness box, she bowed respectfully to the judge. Then, she took a seat, swore to tell the truth, and looked back at the bench.

The prosecutor approached her gently, lowering her voice.

“Mrs. Riley, do you recognize this document on the screen?”

“Yes, I do. They are the divorce papers I handed to Riley,” Catherine responded immediately. With shaky hands, she opened the folder, brought out a paper and handed it over to the prosecutor.

Riley opened his mouth slightly, but no words came out. He instinctively moved his hands to his head, shaking it in disappointment.

Moving the paper around the courtroom, the prosecutor finally handed it to the jury and muttered, “Mrs. Riley, could you please tell the court about your marriage to the defendant?”

Catherine’s eyes glistened as she let out a deep breath before speaking.

“My marriage to Riley has been nothing but pain, fear, and constant maltreatment. To the world, he’s a firefighter, a good, hardworking man who cares for others. But at home, he is a completely different person. When he’s having a tough time, he turns to violence and…”

She couldn’t finish what she's saying before she broke into tears. Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she forced herself to continue, her voice trembling between sobs.

“He has beaten me constantly. Sometimes, he would break the furniture, curse me, and call me terrible names.”

“Catherine, I have never laid my hands on you!” Riley snapped, his eyes blazing with fury. “I… I have never abused or cursed you as you claim. After all I’ve done for you, is this how you repay me?”

Catherine did not respond. Instead, she drew in a shaky breath and continued softly.

“And he does lie a lot.”

Reaching into the folder again, she pulled out a small flash drive and handed it to the prosecutor, who nodded before turning toward the bailiff where the video in the flash drive was displayed.

In the video, Catherine was seen crying on the couch as Riley shouted at her, slamming his fist against the wall and calling her names.

The prosecutor swiftly rose to her feet.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is the reality of who Riley is. He is a selfish man who thinks only of himself. He doesn't care about not only his wife, but also the cries of innocent lives. And when those emergency calls came in, he intentionally ignored it. This is relevant to what he's doing in the video presented by the person he has lived with for over five years”.

She turned sharply toward Riley, her finger pointing directly at him. Then, returning to her table, she declared.

“Your Honor, with the evidence of these two videos, I hereby submit Riley as guilty of intentionally ignoring the emergency calls, leading to the death of the newly wedded couple and their two-month-old daughter”.

The judge leaned back in his chair while Riley kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his body trembling. As the judge raised his gavel, Riley closed his eyes.

“This court finds the defendant, Riley, guilty as charged. He is hereby sentenced to twelve years’ imprisonment with hard labor,” the judge said, tapping the gavel gently. “The court is adjourned.”