Eulogy

At the end of a trial, all feel vindicated.

It wasn’t that Mrs. Dodson was a bad person, considerably. She washed her dishes and laundry daily and put out the cat and took care of her partner’s needs, just like anyone. Her car was workable, and she kept it on the road, whether it was certified and registered or not. In fact, I’m quite pleased they took her on, because now I have the room all to myself. It’s just that when I look down on my typewriter, I can still see the blood stains and entrails from his head. Not even concentrated wash formula can take them off.
“Twenty-six years imprisonment, Mrs. Dodson,” old Justice Brown said. I can still hear the gavel fall. We looked around at the courtroom, the writers and I, - or co-minds, as I like to call my buddies. We were a team. Gavin and I set eyes on young Stephanie, as she laughed, stood and walked out knowing that justice had been done. We shrugged as caretaker Ross screwed his papers up into a little ball and dropped them at his feet. Then we all went outside for a cigarette.
“You bastard,” Detective Strange whispered over my shoulder as a I exhaled. He wore that same tie as he had worn the first night that he had introduced me to Stephanie. It was a bit crumpled.
“Not for lack of trying,” I replied, staring at the natural stone cobbles.
“Did you really think we were going to cave?” said Gavin to the D. James and Ivan, our other co-minds, leaned back on the street-side bench. They nudged each other, thinking of all the money they had made for themselves that day.
“We’ll pay the girl’s medical bill,” they both promised the D in consolation. Pigeons started gathering.
Strange walked away, head down, closed fists. I watched him as he turned and took the stairs to the Thai restaurant. That restaurant had been there for decades, as all the masseurs and addicts and hopeful climbers would come in and kneel, eat, leave, a little more light-headed than before. I myself had knelt and eaten several times, although I had stopped visiting five years ago, after I met Mrs. Dodson there and saw what a vindictive bitch she really was. Nothing could bring Jackson back from the dead. Not even Stephanie’s prayers or all the flowers on his grave. Flowers from hookers and family alike. I’m still stunned.