Interconnected Lives

Marshall Collins

Twelvepeople sat assembled around the huge oak table, none of them happy tobe there. Jury duty was the last activity any of them wanted toparticipate in. Many of those gathered had jobs to be at or tripsthey wanted to take, but here they all were; bored, annoyed, andready to go home.

Thedoor at the back of the room swung open, a man in a dusty lookinggray suit coming in with a cart meticulously organized with binders.He didn't say anything to the jury members as he handed them each abinder with copies of the case information in it. Not until he hadplaced the cart against the wall and set up a projector connected toa computer on a desk did he bother to speak.

"Myname is Marshall Collins," he introduced himself, his voicesounding dusty as well. His face seemed a little ashen like he'd seena lot of things recently to make him question his view of the world.He cleared his throat. "As you all know, this is a verysensitive case. I understand everyone has been briefed already, but Iwant to reiterate that this is going to be very verydifferent from the type of case you may have been expecting."

Thisinformation had everyone around the table sitting up straighter.

"Wewere told it was the case for all those kids who went missing,"one woman in her mid-forties said quietly.

Marshallnodded his head. "That it is."

"Welllet's get this underway then!" an older white man with a bulbousstomach and trucker hat bellowed. "I wanna convict the bastardchild killer and get him on death row asap!"

"Youmay want to save your enthusiasm for a few moments," Marshallsighed.

"Why?Any scumbag with enough evidence against them to start a trial overis guilty as shit in my opinion. I don't even know why we're wastingtime here looking at the proof instead of just voting him guilty andthrowing his ass away," the overweight man stated with his armscrossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

"Ontop of that," a young black woman cut in quietly, "Why is all ofthis being kept so hush hush? No news crews, no courtroom trial, noone from the public allowed to watch the proceedings? It's kindaweird Mr. Collins."

Twelvefaces questioned him at once. Some were openly curious, someconfused, a couple looked a little hostile.

Witha sigh, Marshall clicked something on his computer, pulling up apicture of a young red-haired girl on the projector. "Thesuspect is eight-year-old Alicia Lazarus. She was the last personseen with all eight children who have gone missing in a three monthperiod."

"Ohthat's a joke," the belligerent man said, sounding a bit like atoddler on the edge of a tantrum as he shoved his folder away andstood up. "I came here to work on a real case, not some nonsenseabout a little girl. Where the hell is the real culprit?"

Marshallclicked the computer again, bringing up a video to the screen. "Ican assure you this isn't a joke, sir. Unfortunately, this case isvery serious, and before I present you with any evidence we have, Ineed to ask everyone to steady their nerves. This whole ordeal isgoing to be very taxing, confusing, and will take a lot of carefulconsideration on everyone's part."

Thebelligerent man sat back down, making a show of getting comfortablein his chair with his arms crossed behind his head. The look on hisface challenged Marshall to prove himself. Many of the othersexchanged confused glanced among themselves, but no one spoke up.

Onceeveryone had settled in Marshall cleared his throat.

"Thiscase isn't going to be public. Everything needs to stay very quiet,and we need to get it worked out quickly on top of that," hestated. "We owe the parents of those missing kids justice, but wealso have to consider the fragile nature of our accused.