Illicit [Harry Styles]

Chapter 3

It'd been two days since the first time I entered the court room, today was the third day of the trial and I'm almost certain the verdict will be decided. I'd been back to watch the case every day without fail and each time I sat down in the public gallery I became more and more involved - invested, almost. Summer was nearing its end and I'd given up more of my time than I thought I was going to but I had to find out what was going to happen.

They'd called multiple witnesses to talk; Mr and Mrs Thatcher who owned the barn, Mrs Porter who'd discovered the fire, a police officer that'd found the criminals and arrested them hours later, a few people living in the surrounding area, firemen and even the parents of the three boys.

Each day I tried to distract myself when I saw Harry Styles bring himself into the room so that we didn't have a repeat of what had happened the first time, but I did find myself watching him quite closely. I noticed the way he seemed to stride so lazily when he walked, the way he stared down at his lap while twiddling his fingers, the way he would glance up sometimes and look around at each person individually with a thoughtful look on his face, and the way he ran his hand over his shiny dark hair. 

He never seemed to portray much emotion which made me wonder what he was feeling inside. Did he feel guilty? Sad? Did he regret what he'd done? I then moved on to find myself thinking about his friends, I wondered what they looked like and how they'd behaved in their trials. I recreated how I thought the incident of the fire had gone in my head over and over, so much so that I felt I knew them despite having never even laid eyes on two of them. I thought about what may've actually happened and if there was anything that got left out or lied about in their statements.

The prosecution and defence had given their final speeches and Judge Williams had summed up the entire case with evidence and issues of law highlighted and explained, and the jury were reminded that they'd been told on the second day to consider lesser offences related to the one Mr Styles was charged with, which meant he could get out of this with as little as a small fine, but nothing was certain. On the other hand he could walk away with up to 5 years in prison for what'd happened and it was strange to think that his fate depended on the people in this room alone.

As I sat here now, waiting for the jury to announce whether or not he'd been found guilty or not guilty, I fought with my heart which was trying so hard to beat faster and faster in my chest. I felt nervous and I couldn't make up my mind what outcome I wanted to see; being someone that wants to go into law I should be willing for this man to receive a substantial prison sentence or a large fine, but part of me was making up excuses for him and believing that he's innocent.

My palms were uncomfortably sweaty as the jury returned and took their seats, leaving one member standing patiently staring at the judge as they collectively waited for silence.

"Because of the evidence and statements provided, a lesser offence of simple arson has been considered in Mr Styles' case," the judge told the court, "And all factors have been considered to allow the jury to reach a fair decision. Have you come to a decision?" he directed the latter of his sentence towards the jury to which they nodded confidently.

"Do you find the defendant guilty or not guilty?"

The silence was deafening and I watched as Mr Styles awaited the answer with an entirely straight face. Despite looking unfazed, I noted how heavily his chest rose and fell beneath his black shirt and his eyelashes fluttered quickly as he blinked. It seemed that I felt more in this moment than he did, or at least he was hiding it well and I certainly wasn't.

"We find the defendant guilty of simple arson."

I breathed in sharply through my nose, trying not to draw any attention to myself and my eyes searched around for someone else's reaction. Failing their search, they darted back to Mr Styles whose eyes were closed and his hands were together and pressed against his mouth with what I could only assume was disappointment.