Post by Kenneth Ashland on May 9, 2005 14:25:33 GMT -8
Don’t trust your soul to some backwoods southern lawyer
Cuz the Judge in the town’s got blood stains on his hands
– Reba McEntire, The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia
Cuz the Judge in the town’s got blood stains on his hands
– Reba McEntire, The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia
He felt oddly energized, mental tendons long left unused suddenly stretching and springing again to life. Already he was framing his opening statement and it was, in a word, perfect.
Too bad it would never be used.
The rules of Kindred society were few in number, easy to understand, and quite polarized. Certainly, some terms were ambiguous enough to allow for broad interpretations, but nowhere in the text was anything mentioned regarding due process of law. Though, it was made crystal clear that one’s Elder (the modern interpretation of which was one’s Prince) had leave to adjudicate justice as he or she saw fit.
Thus a trial it was to be.
And as complex and arcane as some might think the mindset would have to be in order to both prosecute and defend such a case as the one at hand in this society, it was really very simple, and the theory dated back longer than even the Camarilla: Actus Reas and Mens Reas; the action, and mentality behind it. Lacking either of those two elements, and you did not have a crime.
Being able to prove you weren’t there at the time the Actus Reas occurred didn’t hurt, either.
He finished crafting the note to be sent to the two primary individuals who, in his estimation, would make or break the case. He had outlined the basic strategy, and asked the relevant questions. At the time of the trial, he would make sure he was on hand for any further advice and, if so requested, perhaps even conduct a round of questioning or two. But the weight of the responsibility was out of his hands. For while the veneer of mortal law had been slapped onto the situation, it was still the same dog eat dog process whose spirit permeated the Traditions like water to a sponge.
And for the duration of the trial, he would have the proverbial “Off Duty” sign alit, and the Harpy would be absent for all intents and purposes. And unless asked to, he would not speak.
But whoever lost this little game would certainly never hear the end of it, granted their losing the case did not as well result in a lost head. Either way, it would be quite a show.
God I love the law.
