Episode 137
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Lord Bradshaw, presiding over the court of first instance, was a man with a thoroughly rigid and cantankerous air. He stared blankly down at Sasha through his spectacles as she answered, and though it lasted but an instant, Sasha sensed a faint hint of contempt from him.
It was an all-too-familiar disgust. After Sasha’s true identity had been revealed, she had encountered such gazes everywhere she went. Compared to the looks some had cast her way during the charity auction, it was less blatant, yet the essence was the same. Lord Bradshaw seemed to find her—who had dared impersonate a noble—utterly outrageous.
“Be seated. Case Number 4923. This court is now in session for Her Majesty the Queen versus Sasha Fincher, formerly Sasha Grayson—true name unknown.”
Lord Bradshaw soon withdrew his gaze from Sasha and recited the case number once more in a dry tone. As he spoke, he furrowed his brows with a slightly uncomfortable expression, whereupon someone who had been standing at a distance approached and carefully readjusted his white wig.
Mr. Benson, the attorney, rose.
“Your Honor, the defense denies all charges. Furthermore, we object to the jurisdiction of this case.”
Judge Bradshaw spoke without so much as glancing at the documents.
“Denied.”
He then turned to the prosecution—which looked as though it had been sitting there since yesterday—and spoke.
“Prosecution, present your evidence.”
The young prosecutor rose as though he had been waiting for this.
“Your Honor, the prosecution submits the written testimony of the Duchess of Grayson as the first piece of evidence. Her Grace testified that the defendant had long impersonated her niece.”
“Admitted.”
“Second, the parish register. There are discrepancies between the baptismal record of the real Sasha Grayson and the defendant’s appearance.”
The moment the prosecutor finished speaking, Mr. Benson shot to his feet.
“Objection. One cannot determine a person’s current identity based on the appearance of a child from twenty years ago.”
Without so much as giving the defense a glance, Lord Bradshaw looked at the prosecutor and spoke.
“Overruled. Continue.”
“Third, regarding the acquisition of a marriage license. Evidence obtained under the false name of Sasha Grayson…”
The prosecutor spoke, brandishing the document stamped with the church seal. Sasha looked up at the seal on the face of the paper with an expressionless face.
She could hardly refute that. It was self-evident evidence. Blinded by greed, dreaming of a wealthy future, she had deceived the man who would become her husband; and in her desperation, she had likewise deceived a clergyman who had been one of Rosalyn’s old acquaintances. Thus, there was no refuting it.
In many ways, it left a bitter taste in her mouth. At the mere charge of having attempted to unlawfully seize an inheritance, she felt defiant; yet she could not deny that she had used improper means to take that inheritance.
“That is sufficient.”
The young prosecutor, who had been reciting the relevant documents with spirited confidence, looked up at the magistrate with a bewildered face. Attorney Benson was the same. Sasha looked up at Lord Bradshaw’s face, which betrayed no emotion whatsoever, and thought that Mr. Benson’s prediction had come true.
“The evidence is clear, indeed.”
At the judge’s added words, Mr. Benson opened his mouth as if to rebut, his face stiff.
“Your Honor, the prosecution has not yet finished presenting its proof. The defense must also be given a chance to rebut—”
“Counsel, sufficient evidence has already been presented.”
Lord Bradshaw cut him off, looking at Mr. Benson—who was old enough to be his father—with a supremely arrogant gaze.
It was the moment Mr. Benson’s prediction came true exactly as he had foreseen. Lord Bradshaw intended to wrap the case up summarily on his own authority then and there.
Lord Bradshaw raised his gavel.
“This court finds that the evidence presented is sufficient to prove the defendant’s guilt.”
Sasha looked at the judge’s face once, then glanced around the empty courtroom. For a case of this magnitude, she had expected at least reporters—if not spectators—to have flocked in and taken seats. And rightly so, for this case was not merely serious; it was currently drawing the public’s full attention.
It was true that the more the public eye was drawn, the more unavoidable things became, but that applied not only to Sasha, but to the other side as well.
Had it not been for that very reason that she had not only stubbornly insisted on attending the charity auction, but stepped before everyone? The more people paid attention to her, the less easily they could harm her. At the very least, they could not try to dispatch her cleanly as they had quietly burned down an entire office.
“Therefore, this case shall proceed to summary trial—”
“Your Honor!”
Mr. Benson sprang from his seat, his face now twisted with exasperation and disillusionment.
“This is a serious fraud offense, a grave crime carrying an expected sentence of at least seven years. As stipulated in the Great Charter, the defendant has the right to trial by jury!”
The magistrate did not so much as blink, even as Mr. Benson argued with a flushed face and just grounds.
“Counsel, if the defendant confesses now, a lenient disposition may be considered. Three years of domestic imprisonment in lieu of colonial exile—”
“Your Honor, this is a blatant procedural violation!”
It was simultaneously the moment when another of Mr. Benson’s predictions was not merely off the mark, but shattered to pieces. They did not fear the public eye in the least. Even if people would point fingers at them and cast suspicious gazes because of this affair, they intended to brush aside all procedure and simply remove Sasha.
By now, Sasha had truly grown curious. What crime had she committed for them to go this far? At the same time, her thoughts extended to the real Sasha, who might be alive or dead.
…What evidence could the real Sasha’s parents possibly have held, for them to go this far?
“If you continue, I will hold you in contempt of court.”
What could they possibly fear, to go this far?
It was a ruthlessness of a different sort from Jeffrey’s heedless brutality.
“One more word, and I will have you detained as well, Counsel.”
The courtroom was now completely enveloped in silence. Sasha noticed that even the young prosecutor was looking back and forth between the judge and her with a bewildered face. However, he seemed to conclude that this was not something he dared intervene in. The prosecutor shook his head.
A sound of Mr. Benson taking a deep breath was heard, as though he were bewildered in many ways. Though he was a veteran lawyer who had stood in courtrooms for decades, this was apparently his first time seeing such a case.
Regardless of everyone’s shock, the magistrate looked straight down at Sasha with a resolute face.
“Defendant.”
At first glance, his tone seemed calm, but Sasha felt the contempt within it, the annoyance, and some faintly underlying fear.
“Do you admit to the charges?”
Sasha looked up at the judge’s face with an expressionless face.
What persuasion could one possibly offer to a wretch who ignored even proper legal procedure, let alone emotional appeal? She even had the absurd thought that it would be easier to stop him if he simply drew a gun and threatened her openly.
Watching this man occupy a position that ought to be fairer than anyone else’s, yet behave no differently from a street thug, she felt disgust surging within her instead.
“If they truly intend to hold a summary trial?”
“It will not be possible, Mrs. Fincher. Many people are paying attention to this case.”
“I witnessed violence that defies common sense just yesterday. If they are people who burn down a building in the dead of night, what couldn’t they do?”
Her final conversation with Attorney Benson from the night before filled her mind.
“Isaac, how merciful is Her Majesty?”
This led into the conversation she had shared with Isaac.
“It will be alright, Sasha. Even if things go wrong, Her Majesty is watching over us.”
It led into the words he had spoken to reassure her.
It had been two days since she passed on information regarding Attorney Turner and Theodore, Rosalyn’s longtime retainer. Had Her Majesty the Queen reached a decision?
Would she have made a decision worthy of saving this con artist, who had lived her whole life telling nothing but lies?
“Defendant. If you do not answer by the count of three, you will be deemed to have no intention of confessing.”
At Lord Bradshaw’s final warning, Mr. Benson’s anxious gaze turned toward Sasha.
Realizing that her life could be tossed about by the whim of one in power was, needless to say, far from pleasant. She did not know how Isaac felt, but Sasha had felt this way from the moment she heard it from him. She had lived her whole life handing the leash of her own neck to others; now that she sought to live freely, it felt as though someone even higher was reaching out to seize their leash.
Yet that was truly the only way to survive.
She had realized that undeniable truth time and again.
She had already discarded her pride long ago, so it was fine. Sasha thought.
“Honorable Judge.”
Sasha finally opened her mouth.
The annulment of her marriage was something she had already anticipated; what she feared was the situation Isaac would face alone if she were sentenced to imprisonment like this. Perhaps he would be able to move more freely without the shackle that was her.
Having considered her options, she neatly suppressed her own exceedingly selfish affection.
“I agree with my counsel’s opinion. Seeing procedure disregarded in this manner gives me grave concern.”
With the resolve to say what needed to be said even in such circumstances, Sasha spoke calmly, and the eyes of the young prosecutor—who had been holding his breath quietly—widened.
In the meantime, the magistrate tilted his head toward her without even bothering to readjust his wig, which had slipped down again.
“If you intend to add to your charges…”
Thud.
At that moment, accompanied by a heavy, explosive sound, the door on the far side burst open.