Courtroom

         On Thursday, the Twenty-first of October, George Fredericks woke up.  To take this in a merely literal sense is to misunderstand a rather large facet of Fredericks’ day.  To wake up in the concrete definition occupied but a single instant, whereas to open his mind’s eye to the first glorious rays of sunshine took the better part of three years.
         The sun shone through the window shades and gently ended the sleep of Fredericks at approximately seven thirty-seven according to his bedroom clock, seven thirty nine to his kitchen clock, and nine forty two to his bathroom clock.  He sat up, rather drowsily, and shook his head.  He lived alone in a three room apartment on the second floor of the Jones building on thirty-first street, and was therefore quite surprised to hear a voice emanating from somewhere within the walls of his residence.  It took several seconds for Fredericks, with one eyebrow raised and one eyebrow lowered, to deduce that not only was the voice stemming from within his apartment, but from within his immediate vicinity.  Another minute followed, during which Fredericks further narrowed the field of possibility to include only his own mind.
         “God?”
         The voice continued muttering, undisturbed by the incredulous question cast its way.
         Fredericks listened carefully, the muttering grew louder the harder he concentrated.  It was saying something about food and hunger, but the exact ideas were not readily discernible.
         Perhaps God was finally getting around to ending world hunger.  Yes, that must be it.  Fredericks, though no devout Christian, had for some reason unfathomable to mere mortals, been chosen as the vessel of God’s grace.
         Up to this point, the voice had been considering the various ways of providing a body with food, which certainly seemed to fit into Fredericks’ theory that this voice was none other than that of the Divine Creator.  As Fredericks listened, however, the voice began to make observations that were certainly not God’s own.
         As chance, or perhaps fate, arranged it, it was at this instant that Fredericks glanced out of that inconveniently bright window and spotted a bum pan-handling on the sidewalk.  This would not have caught Fredericks’ attention, except for the fact that the man was very obviously and very lewdly watching three women cross the street.
         Well, that was quite odd.  The voice seemed to be watching several women, as well.  Fredericks may have been called an idiot upon occasion, but never by a speaker more sincere than angry, and he could put two and two together.  Whoever that man was, Fredericks was hearing his thoughts.
         Before that idea could truly sink in, the phone rang.
         “Hello?”
         “Fredericks, thank God.”
         “Well, I would, but the voice ended up not being God at all.”
         “What?”
         “Oh, nevermind.”
         “Well, whatever the hell you’ve been doing, you’d better get the hell away.  I can’t stall any longer.  You’ve got to get to court.  The judge is getting, um, restless.”
         Fredericks glanced at his bedroom clock.  “Okay, just give me twenty minutes.  I’ll be there.”
         “Twenty minutes?  Do you think I can just pull that kind of time out of my ass?”
         “Just stall them, Jon.  I’ll be there.”
         Fredericks cast the man in the street one last worried glance, and dashed into his living room, pulling his pants on as he ran.  He shouldn’t have forgotten the court date this way.  Months of preparation and he was already on the bad side of the judge. 
         Ten desperate minutes later, Fredericks dashed into court, his tie flapping and his shirt ruffled.  The older man sitting on the judge’s bench raised an eyebrow.
         “Mr. Fredericks, so nice of you to join us.”  Despite the stern voice and demeanor of the judge, Fredericks got an instant sense of amusement emanating from the white-haired fellow.
         After the usual courtesies, the proceedings got under way.  Ted Ravitch and the defendant, Roger Felroy sat blank-faced on the other side of the aisle.
         ‘Ravitch better know what he’s doing.  Two hundred bucks an hour had better have bought me something.’
         Fredericks stared hard at Roger Felroy.  It was happening again.  With a great effort, he shook the feeling.  This man had killed his neighbor, and Fredericks wasn’t going to let him get away with that, voices or no.
         Two hours passed, with trivial witnesses taking the stand one after another, building up to the only significant testimony the defense had prepared.  At approximately two o’clock, Roger Felroy took the stand.
         “But then I heard a loud bang and I ran to my fence.”
         “I see, Mr. Felroy.  And what did you see on the other side of that fence?”
         Felroy put his head in his hands, and spoke in a trembling voice, “I saw Stephen Waters dead.”  Felroy gave a truly pitiable image, but again the thoughts came to Fredericks without his ever asking for them.  ‘I can’t believe their buying this.  This is incredible.  I took Ravitch for an idiot, but look what he’s doing.’
         Fredericks was on his feet before he, or anyone else, could stop him.  “Objection, your honor.”
         “What is the nature of your objection, Mr. Fredericks?”
         “That man is lying and attempting to sway the jury with a false show of –”
         The judge gave Fredericks a long, steady gaze.  “Mr. Felroy’s testimony stands as evidence before this jury until the time that you are able to inarguably prove its falseness.  I do not what has gotten into you, Mr. Fredericks, an experienced lawyer such as yourself parading around like an idiot, but get it the hell out of my court.  Objection overruled.”
         Fredericks sat back down, already his better sense returning to him.  The same happened twice more, Felroy repeatedly making statements that were meant to alleviate him of all guilt, while his thoughts repeatedly condemned him.  But Fredericks stood powerless to stop the proceedings, knowing the holes of the defense and always unable to prove them.
         A week later, Fredericks was made to watch Felroy walk free.