299 Days: The Visitors (14 page)

Well, Grant thought as they were pulling into the Grange, you always wanted to be a judge. Now you are. Kind of.

Then it hit him: the setting didn’t matter. In the past, he had wanted to be a judge to make sure the Constitution was followed and things were done fairly. That bullies didn’t pick on people. That wolves didn’t hurt the sheep.

That’s exactly what he was doing today, it just was in a setting he hadn’t imagined. He was there to make sure the Constitution was followed. He had just always assumed he would be doing so in a traditional “real” courthouse.

Now it would be in a more important setting. The people of Pierce Point were depending on him. This wasn’t a bunch of arguments over little things; this was a matter of life and death out there.

Everyone wanted to say hi to Grant and Lisa as they pulled into the Grange. People loved having a judge and a doctor out there. They were a symbol to the people in Pierce Point that things just might be OK. They had “normal” things, like a judge and a doctor. They had the tools to do normal things, like having a justice system and medical help. They could take care of themselves. They didn’t need 911, which was an enormous relief since no one was answering 911 anymore.

Rich was at the entrance to the Grange and said, “We have some work for you now. Time to be a judge.”

“Let’s do it,” Grant said.

Then he realized he had no idea what he was doing. For some strange reason, though, he wasn’t nervous. He actually looked forward to the challenge. He was painting on a fresh canvas by creating a system that he knew was fair. How many times in the past had he been in court and been screwed by statist judges and thought, “Here’s how I would do it if I could?” Well, now he could.

Rich explained that the prisoners were waiting for their trial. They were in the makeshift jail a couple of buildings away. The “jail,” an abandoned house, was working surprisingly well. They locked each prisoner in separate rooms in the house and put a door stop wedge of wood on the outside of the door of each room so they couldn’t get out. It was low tech, but worked well.

Josie had fully recovered from the flash-hider puncture wound to the chest and was doing fine, although she was having withdrawals from meth.

Frankie was a mess. He had a broken nose and jaw, both of which were not set by medical staff because he was too violent, even in handcuffs, to allow them to attend to him. So his nose and jaw fused back together crooked. Right after the beating he got during the raid, his face looked like hamburger, but now was about halfway healed. He was missing teeth. His broken ribs also set at an uncomfortable angle and he needed help moving around, which was usually refused. He was having meth withdrawals, too. He was extremely depressed. He would constantly call out for Josie and she would cry back to him. They were terrified of what was coming. The three-week period between their arrest and trial was torturous. That wasn’t Grant’s intention, but he was OK with the results.

Brittany and Ronnie were uninjured, but had meth withdrawals. They hadn’t been using for as long as Josie or Frankie so it wasn’t as bad.

The worst thing for Brittany and Ronnie during the three weeks before trial was the fear. They had no idea what these people at Pierce Point would do to them. This whole jail-in-a-house thing was so different than their previous run-ins with the law. Back then, they were put in a police car, taken to jail, processed, and released in a few hours. They came back to the house, got high and stole some more, and got caught some more, but nothing ever really happened to them.

As the Collapse was building up and the government had less and less money, the authorities were not really enforcing the drug laws. They didn’t have the jail space or prosecutors to deal with drug addicts stealing things, so Brittany and Ronnie were wondering what would happen to them now. They wanted the old system back. It had worked just fine for them.

After getting an update on the condition of the prisoners, Rich said, “So, your honor, how do you want to do this?”

“We’ll need a jury,” Grant said to Ryan. “Go get me fourteen adults. Twelve jurors and two alternates. Try to get people who don’t know the defendants. If they know them a little, that’s OK, but not ideal. Once you get the fourteen, have someone quietly ask around about whether any of them have a grudge against the defendants.” Grant had Ryan do this because he had lived out at Pierce Point and knew some of the people out there.

“Will do,” Ryan said as he went off to get the jury together.

“We’ll need a prosecutor, too,” Grant said. Everyone looked at Rich.

“OK, I’ll do it,” Rich said. He had fully expected that he’d be the prosecutor.

“Don’t worry about the lawyer stuff,” Grant said. “Just ask the obvious questions your curious brain would ask them. You’ll do fine.” Rich nodded.

“The defendants can have someone represent them if they want,” Grant said. “We’ll deal with that if it comes up, which it probably won’t.”

Grant looked around the Grange hall at all the chairs and the podium. It would work for a public trial. It wasn’t a pretty court room with multimedia capabilities for presentations, fancy jurors’ chairs, and a bench for a judge to sit up on, but it would do.

“OK, let’s have a trial,” Grant said.

A crowd started to gather. Snelling and his core followers were not in audience; they were probably boycotting this “illegal” trial. But everyone else wanted to see this. Good. Grant wanted as many people as possible to see what happens to those who steal and—worse yet—hurt kids. He wanted the residents to see that they had an effective police force. He also wanted them to see that it worked fairly and that they followed the Constitution. A practical, effective, and fair justice system was a huge Patriot recruiting tool. It would cement people’s allegiance to the Patriots. It would be an example of how the Patriot approach was just plain better. Showing people a fair trial was much more effective than a thousand speeches about political philosophy.

After about an hour of getting things prepped, Rich said, “We’re ready. We have a jury.”

“Bring the prisoners in,” Grant said like he’d been doing this forever.

He paused and thought back again to college when he and Lisa talked about him being a judge someday. You’re a judge now, he said to himself. Now go do a great job. Be fair and show people that justice can actually be done. Set the example.

Yes. You’ll see why this is important later.

The outside thought gave Grant a chill. He was trying to understand how a trial of some tweakers would be important later. Grant shrugged. The outside thought had been right about everything in the past. So far, it had a 100% track record.

A few minutes later, some guards brought in the prisoners. The crowd gasped when they saw them shuffling by in zip ties. They looked like zombies; half dead. They were horribly thin, heads drooping, and weak. They looked doomed. Frankie looked the worst, with his swollen face. A guard had to help him by holding him up on each side.

When the prisoners were seated, it became very clear that this was a trial. Pierce Point was taking care of things like this on its own. This was a very serious moment.

Grant noticed a very different feeling at the Grange. The feeling at the Grange had gone from the joy and kindness of neighbors sharing food and reading their own neighborhood newspaper to the solemnness of deciding who lives and dies. It was like a funeral, but the people who were dead were sitting right there, still alive, but likely soon to be dead. No one in the Grange hall had ever looked a person in the eye who they knew would be dead soon.

Grant wanted to project confidence that he knew what he was doing, even if he was making this up as he went.

“Would the defendants please identify themselves,” Grant said. They just looked around or, in Josie’s case, sobbed. She was in a borrowed pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt that said “Princess.” It was sad.

Finally, each of the defendants gave their names, except Frankie, who refused to talk. Rich identified Frankie by name.

“Let the record reflect that we have a jury seated and two alternates,” Grant said. There was no “record” to reflect anything since the trail wasn’t being transcribed by a court reporter and wasn’t being recorded, but Grant said “let the record reflect” out of habit.

“Do any of the jurors have any personal dealings with any of the defendants?” Grant asked. The jurors shook their heads.

Grant needed to give the jury instructions. He thought he’d keep it simple because that’s all they needed. “Ladies and gentlemen, the defendants are presumed innocent until proven guilty. We’re serious about that. Listen to the evidence. You must find the defendants guilty beyond a reasonable doubt to convict. A reasonable doubt means there is a reasonable way the evidence you hear does not establish they did it. It must be a ‘reasonable’ doubt—not that space aliens did something. But if it’s reasonable, and it’s a doubt, the person cannot be convicted. All twelve of you must agree on guilt to sustain a conviction; if one of you isn’t convinced, then the defendants cannot be found guilty. Do you understand your instructions?” They nodded. Then one raised her hand.

“Do we decide the sentence or do you?” the juror asked.

Grant was truly making this up as he went. He thought a while. Under the old government justice system, the judge decided the sentence. There were even sentencing guidelines that took away almost all of a judge’s latitude. That was a joke—some bureaucrats deciding the sentences for people in all cases. This was Grant’s chance to inject a little freedom back into the system, even if it was only the system for a few hundred people out at Pierce Point.

The decisions you are making are bigger than Pierce Point. Decide wisely.

Well, if he was creating a template for the future, Grant thought, then he better inject as much freedom as possible. He wanted jurors, regular people in the community, to have as much power as possible. The old system let the judge have enormous power. They decided what the jury heard, which often meant whether a person was convicted or not.

Before the Collapse, many judges had become distant from the people. They feared and loathed the people, especially as the government started unraveling right before the Collapse. Many judges thought that “militia whackos” were out to get them. These “whackos,” however, were anyone questioning what the judges were doing, even when they peacefully and respectfully questioned the judges. Grant had been in court before the Collapse and seen a person merely asking a judge why a particular law did not apply in her case, only to have the judge motion for the armed bailiffs to escort her out.

Before the Collapse, courtrooms started to feel like bunkers protecting the judges, not places where the public settled disputes based on fair and established rules. Courthouses were no longer the people’s building where the public’s business was conducted, but rather a place where the government reluctantly let the public in under guard so the government could do what it wanted. Many judges would not involve the public at all if they could find a way to get away with it.

But the whole point of trials and a justice system is to let the community control things, and to see what is happening to people. The judges work for the public, not the other way around. Trials and a justice system exist to carry out the community’s goals of a fair and predictable way to punish crime and decide civil disputes. It’s not for judges to run everything.

In that moment, Grant decided to come up with a better system. He answered the juror’s question by saying, “If the jury decides guilt, then the judge will provide a suggested possible range of sentences based on other cases. Now, since this is our first case and we don’t have any prior cases to base decisions on, I won’t be able to do that. But I will suggest a range in this case, anyway. The jury then decides the sentence. The jury’s sentence will almost always end up being the final sentence. However, the judge will have the power to not accept the jury’s sentence, but only in the most extreme cases. I stress that the judge changing the sentence will be very rare. It’ll happen only when justice requires it, like if a juror shows favoritism or even if there is bribery or threats against a juror. Or, if a jury imposes too harsh a sentence, like execution for petty theft.”

“But,” Grant continued, “There is a check on the judge, too. The judge is elected by the people and can be recalled at any time, so if the judge does something unjust, the people can remove and replace him or her. Quickly.”

There, Grant thought, as he leaned back in his chair. Plenty of checks and balances. Primary power was with a representative sample of the people with a check by an elected official, but with the people having ultimate control over that elected official. That’s how it should have been with the government system all along, but it didn’t turn out that way. Now was the chance to reset things. To fix them.

The jurors nodded, followed by many in the audience. Grant had come up with a good, fair, and simple system. He was the right person, in the right place, at the right time to be coming up with these things.

“Is the prosecution ready to proceed?” Grant asked.

Chapter 151

The Trial Proceeds

(June 6)

“Yes, your honor,” Rich said. “The prosecution is ready to proceed.”

It seemed a little artificial for Rich to talk to Grant that way, but he wanted to be as official as possible. People’s lives were at stake, after all, and he wanted the residents to see and feel that they had a real justice system.