Eighteen Minutes

Chapter One (Part One)

London, England
June 1915

The courtroom was filled beyond capacity. Reporters, survivors, families, and even Winston Churchill himself filled the courtroom. People were dressed finely, proper for the current occasion. A lot of women were crying, failing to hide their emotions. Some lucky reporters managed to snag a seat, while the others had to stand at the back of the courtroom.

At the front of the courtroom, there were two wooden tables with chairs. Both tables were being occupied by two gentlemen. One represented the United Kingdom government, while the other one represented William Turner. Both men were flipping through papers, searching for relevant evidence to argue to the court and the judge.

People were talking indistinguishably among themselves, wondering and waiting for court to be in session. No one knew exactly what time everything started, but that didn't deter them leaving anytime soon.

The courtroom itself was decorated very elegantly. Dark wood paneling lined all four walls, while large stained glass windows lined the top of the walls. The light from outside shined into the courtroom brightly, unable to be blocked. The floors were also made up of wood as well.

At the end of the center aisle, was a gate. It was unlocked, allowing witnesses through to testify. About another minute went by, which seemed like a lifetime for most people. Some were growing impatient. Although they indeed were growing impatient, they didn't have the guts to get up and leave. They wanted answers and justice. Anything to satisfy their needs and comfort them emotionally.

A polished, wooden door squeaked as it was opened. The door itself had a golden handle. A man walked through, escorted by an official of the court. The man was escorted over to the table. His handcuffs were removed once he sat down next to his lawyer.

The male lawyer leaned in closer to his client. His client was none other than the Captain of the Lusitania himself. Why was it that he lived, while hundreds perished on that day? Was any of this his fault? Did he receive word of the travel warning from Germans? And most of all, did he know his ship was at risk of being attacked? Every one of these questions have answers. Only a few survivors themselves could answer them.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Davis," the male court official announced. Everyone in the room stopped talking amongst themselves. They all stood up from their seats as the Judge walked into the courtroom, immediately walking up to his seat.

Judge Davis was wearing a black robe with a white collar around his neck. After he took his seat, so did everyone else. As the attendees all took their seats, the wooden benches creaked from all of the weight they were supporting.

"Good morning, everyone. Court is in session," Judge Davis announced as he examined the small stack of papers lying on his desk in front of him. After thoroughly looking through the papers, he looked out into the courtroom. He could see for himself just how packed his courtroom actually was. It was to be expected to know how many occupants were amongst him and how full the courtroom was.

William Turner's lawyer, Theodore Routwell, stood up from his seat. He was holding a few select pieces of paper. Theodore looked up and made direct eye contact with the Judge.

"Good morning, your honor," Theodore said with a faint smile, "May I proceed to approach you, your honor?"

Judge Davis slightly nodded his head, allowing Theodore to approach him. Theodore walked up to him. He set the papers down in front of Judge Davis.

"What I handed you is a list of survivors I will examine today, your honor," Theodore mentioned. He then turned around and walked back over to his seat and sat down.