Like the millions of people around the globe, I too, watch countless courtroom dramas and TV shows that were inspired by many battles inside the courthouse. We even watch it on television, a woman begging for justice in front of the police officer, or even a lawyer defending a client who have forgotten his own identity and can make out fragments of his memory. But television has not prepared me for what really happens inside the four walls of a courtroom.
Part of my obligations as a student studying the laws of the land, one of the requisites I have to fulfill in partial requirement to the subject is to attend court hearings. Sessions that usually start as early as 8 in the morning and end around lunch time. Resuming again at two or even resetting for another time. When I walked into the halls of the Courts of Justice, I thought that today might be the same as all the hearings I have sat into before. But today was different. Even the prosecutor and the judge presiding was but happy to accommodate me in the room and have me observe the trial. It was my first full-length trial.
At first, it was just presentation of evidences, asking of questions, re-confirmation of testimonies last given, dates I cannot even fathom when given. But then came the hard part, asking the witness on the stand to painstakingly tell the court, how his brother died in front of his very eyes, and he cannot even do a thing about it. He recalled each detail. Each sound of the gun shot. The running of people, screaming. And the painful recollection of seeing his brother drop in front of his eyes after being hit with a bullet on the back of his head, his knees being shot in the front, buckling, then falling down dead. If that wasn't painful enough, the shooters and masterminds kicked him, spitted on him and cursed him, telling the victim that he deserved to die. Things that I thought I can only watch on Law and Order or CSI, I am actually hearing and seeing with my own eyes inside the four walls of the courtroom. The final, painful question I heard from the lawyer was: "If given the chance, to be given compensation for the loss of your brother, how much would you like to be compensated for Mr. Witness?" With tears in the witness' eyes, and a heart-wrenching answer: " I don't care about the money anymore sir, all I want is justice for the death of my brother.
Court session ends. Everyone is asked to rise. The judge leaves. My knees almost buckle as I walk out of the room. A lot of questions racing in my head. Would I be as confident as the lawyer, asking one painful question after another seeing as how the witness might break down and cry? No emotions can be seen from his eyes as he asked one question after another. And most importantly, will the courts have hearts, enough for justice to fall on deaf ears? Or will justice be eventually served?
Part of my obligations as a student studying the laws of the land, one of the requisites I have to fulfill in partial requirement to the subject is to attend court hearings. Sessions that usually start as early as 8 in the morning and end around lunch time. Resuming again at two or even resetting for another time. When I walked into the halls of the Courts of Justice, I thought that today might be the same as all the hearings I have sat into before. But today was different. Even the prosecutor and the judge presiding was but happy to accommodate me in the room and have me observe the trial. It was my first full-length trial.
At first, it was just presentation of evidences, asking of questions, re-confirmation of testimonies last given, dates I cannot even fathom when given. But then came the hard part, asking the witness on the stand to painstakingly tell the court, how his brother died in front of his very eyes, and he cannot even do a thing about it. He recalled each detail. Each sound of the gun shot. The running of people, screaming. And the painful recollection of seeing his brother drop in front of his eyes after being hit with a bullet on the back of his head, his knees being shot in the front, buckling, then falling down dead. If that wasn't painful enough, the shooters and masterminds kicked him, spitted on him and cursed him, telling the victim that he deserved to die. Things that I thought I can only watch on Law and Order or CSI, I am actually hearing and seeing with my own eyes inside the four walls of the courtroom. The final, painful question I heard from the lawyer was: "If given the chance, to be given compensation for the loss of your brother, how much would you like to be compensated for Mr. Witness?" With tears in the witness' eyes, and a heart-wrenching answer: " I don't care about the money anymore sir, all I want is justice for the death of my brother.
Court session ends. Everyone is asked to rise. The judge leaves. My knees almost buckle as I walk out of the room. A lot of questions racing in my head. Would I be as confident as the lawyer, asking one painful question after another seeing as how the witness might break down and cry? No emotions can be seen from his eyes as he asked one question after another. And most importantly, will the courts have hearts, enough for justice to fall on deaf ears? Or will justice be eventually served?
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