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Topic: Exams (07/26/04)
TITLE: The Inquisition By Dixie Collinson 07/30/04 |
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The sound of the gavel boomed like a cannon as it echoed between the nearly empty pews and the rafters of the sanctuary. “This examination shall begin!” sounded the Judge. A few hushed whispers scurried among the observers as the proceedings began. The Judge shuffled a few papers, looked smugly at the defendant, and began his accusatory spiel. His black plastic frame reading glasses clung to the end of his nose as the looked over the list of accusations against the defendant. “You are aware of the charges against you?"
“Yes, your Honor,” the defendant answered, eyes still fastened the floor.
“Uh huh. And how you plead?” he retorted rapidly.
“Not guilty.” A rush of snickers exploded from the jury box.
“Prove it,” the Judge fired back. A simultaneous gasp swept through the sanctuary/courtroom. The defendant stared at the Judge in a state of disbelief bordering upon hysteria.
"What you mean, ‘prove it?’" the defendant stuttered. “I thought the law states that I am innocent until proven guilty?”
“I see,” the Judge answered, glancing at the jury. “Well let me tell you a thing or two about my courtroom,” the Judge boomed. “Due to the fact that so many guilty people are getting away with just about anything these days, in my courtroom we're going to do things differently from now on.” Looking out like a dictator over a frenzied crowd, the Judge delivered the devastating blow. “In my courtroom you are automatically guilty until you prove otherwise.”
The defendant sat in silence contemplating the consequences of what was about to take place. He had no opportunity to even examine the evidence posed against him. He had only been informed of the charges against him just a few moments before he was dragged into the courtroom. True, he had been guilty of such conduct in the past. He wasn’t perfect my any wild stretch of the imagination. But this time he was innocent. The charges against him were completely unfounded. But how could he prove it? His entire future depended on what happened in this room today. And he knew he was utterly defenseless. This wasn’t a trial. It was an inquisition.
Tears streamed down the defendant’s face and his hands shook. “How can I do that?”
“That,” the Judge charged with finality, “is your problem.”