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Happy reading ⚖️⛓️
📌 Warning: Violence
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The mood inside Dixit's father's study room was not at all funny like Dixit's poor jokes. But whatever, I am not scared of their faces. Okay, shit, I am lying right now, but that's a different thing. At least I am confident.
I slammed my laptop bag on the mahogany desk. Inside my laptop there was a 38-slide PowerPoint, a half-broken USB, 27 hours of my unpaid research, and every ounce of my stalking capacity I had.
"Honourable Justice Agarkar and respected Adv. Verman," I said, fake-smiling at both of them like I hadn't just skipped two university lectures and a court visit to dig through Prisoner No. 704's forgotten archives. "I need ten minutes. Preferably before one of you starts to kick me out of this room, because I am about to offend you guys."
My chachu looked up from his tea like I'd just farted in the Preamble.
Mr. Verman didn't even blink, probably used to juniors shaking in fear, not his son's female friend storming his house with a PowerPoint.
Dixit shamelessly shirtless in black shorts which he thinks make him look sexy, but he looks like absolute shit, eating a banana Cerelac smoothie like a pig with no shame. "Celay Kween! Let her cook, Daddy~," he muttered, flopping onto the couch like this was a Netflix show.
( Celay Kween= Slay Queen )
I plugged in the USB and the screen lit up: "PRISONER 704: THE CASE THAT STINKS."
Slide by slide, I show them all.
I then turned back to them.
"All I'm asking is for you," I jabbed a finger at Dixit's dad, "to help file a damn appeal. Remission, writ, anything. And you-" I looked at my chachu, "to not bury this because it's inconvenient or politically messy. That boy was 14. He's now 20. That's six years of rot in the system no one wants to admit exists."
"That's all? You are done?" Chachu asked finally. I folded my arms. "That's everything I could find without breaking into the DIG's office. Give me two more weeks and I might."
