Finch Sharpe Trial

The familiar aroma filled the courtroom, a typically soothing blend of the fresh-cut grass directly outside, the familiar scent of freshly printed ink on crisp paper, and the relaxing perfume of the coffee we all depend on for survival. Since that day, however, that scent has lost its appeal. Just thinking about the trial makes me sick to my stomach. The prosecutor, Sharpe, renowned for his quick wit and skill. The opposition, Finch, was just as known for his sharp tongue and wide intellect. Putting the two in the same room was a mistake from the get-go. The tension that was in the air that very day remains in that same courtroom, as it changed everyone’s lives forever.
A few days before the trial, Sharpe approached me and said that he’d handle all the evidence, that I didn’t need to prepare anything for the trial, and that I should consider it a nice, paid vacation. I probably should’ve listened. Instead, I made it a point to conduct my own investigations, know the case inside and out, and work privately behind Sharpe’s back. I inspected every nook and cranny, and created watertight arguments. I had planned for every possible scenario. My investigations were so thorough that I could point out any flaw …show more content…
The victim was only 25 years old, cause of death was due to an acute poison in the victim’s drink. We had to prove the defendant committed the heinous act, and I was feeling pretty confident as I walked into the room and stood in front of the pleasant mahogany desks. The defendant did do it, all the evidence pointed to it. Pretty straightforward, or so it would seem from an outsider’s point of view. But I knew better, Sharpe knew better, Finch knew better. Nothing about the trial was fair or just. I thought Sharpe was initially just trying to hold me back, suggesting that I wasn’t good enough. His intent was to protect me. I was new, fresh, and full of energy. I had only begun my career a few years prior. I still wish I didn’t get so