Knocking on the doors of justice with a few home-grown truths

Growing up, there existed within my very household a mini judicial system, which sat in judgement and dispensed punishment. Of course, this set-up was never seen as being impartial and every time a verdict was passed, there were accusations of bias or tampering with the evidence. However, the volume of protests subsided considerably when the case came before the ‘Supreme Court’ aka the parents.

As soon as a fight broke out over the interpretation of the rules of a game or what one considered an infringement of one’s rights, the gloves were on and the contestants faced each other, ready to place the other on the mat.

The ‘Court of First Instance’ was a sibling or a friend who had supposedly witnessed the incident. Often, the court would adjourn the hearing when the voice of the arbiter was drowned in the fierce torrent of argument between the warring parties. There was no listening to the voice of reason, so a time-out was declared. The merits of the case were shadowed by doubt.

The supposed aggressor and victim were in no mood for compromise, with each convinced of the rightness of his cause. Neither were they going to let the other state his case uninterrupted because every point made was vociferously refuted until the hearing deteriorated into a slanging match. Past resentments were brought up to strengthen one’s case and to make the judge realise that he was dealing with a seasoned felon and that this wasn’t a first-time offence.

The eloquence of the defendant and the purported victim made even the most resolute individual dither in the face of such conviction. So, they might request time to deliberate over the matter. But it was next to impossible to retire to a quiet spot as the squabblers followed you as they continued their harangue. Eventually, worn down by the constant stream of words, the judge would wearily pronounce judgement so unexpected that the two were left speechless as they absorbed the body blow. They were both pronounced equally at fault, with neither given the right to gloat.

Dissatisfied with the verdict and thoughts of “Et tu, Brute”, the matter would be taken to the highest authority since there was no possibility of an out-of-court settlement. Well aware of this step being fraught with danger, the appellants weighed the pros and cons of this move. They thought back to previous incidents when they had approached this supreme authority. Somehow, neither could remember feeling a sense of relief. But this time, they were convinced it was different. They were committed to seeing this through to the bitter end.

They built a compelling body of evidence. One didn’t knock on the doors of the ‘Supreme Court’ without adequate preparation. The thought of their case being dismissed without even receiving a hearing was too horrible to bear.

Soon it was time to confront the highest authority. Try as they might they could not read those inscrutable and grim visages. They were told to state their case promptly and clearly. They knew full well that the tone of voice should be just right, neither whingeing nor resentful.

But they could not help past hurts and memories from pushing their way through, impinging on the present. Before they knew it, their testimonies were turning into a volley of bitter accusations and “he said” and “No, I didn’t say that. He said it first”.

The ominous silence after the rapid-fire barrage made their hearts sink. Sure enough, the one flaw in their argument was pounced upon. “You said ‘he said it first’. Doesn’t that mean you said it too?” “So, you were lying when you said you never said it?”

Caught in the web of justice, the two tried to squirm their way out, but it was too late. They were hoist by their own petard.