Ghost plops down unceremoniously in the chair and lifts his hands. “Let’s do this.”
The deputies are quick to secure his handcuffs to a chain on the table. One of them breathes a sigh of relief once Ghost is fully restrained. I find myself doing the same. There’s no doubt in my mind that Ghost would add to his list of crimes if given the chance.
“You are here today for your arraignment,” the judge says to Ghost. “The charges against you will be read. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Honorship.”
The judge doesn’t react to the sarcasm, except for tilting his head away from Ghost. The microexpression of annoyance doesn’t escape my notice. After Judge Pritchett gestures to the clerk, the man comes forward, document in hand.
“The court will now hear the case of the State of New York versus John Doe, case number 2025-CR-00567. The charges are twelve counts of first-degree murder—”
“Soon to be thirteen counts,” Ghost says loudly, grinning at Deputy Wilson. “Thirteen is my lucky number.”
Like a puff of smoke, gasps and whispers fill the room, permeating the space with shock and excitement. Judge Pritchett slams his gavel and silence reigns once more.
“Order in court.” The judge shifts his attention to Ghost, a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. “You are to remain silent and listen as the charges are read. I will not tolerate interruptions.”
The court clerk clears his throat and continues. “The charges aremultiplecounts of first-degree murder, multiple counts of aggravated assault, arson, use of a deadly weapon, theft, and one count of…”
The clerk frowns in confusion as he stares at the paper in his hand. “One count of bird-napping.”
Ghost shrugs. “I had to save my cock from being caged.”
My lips fall apart before twitching at his absurdity while people all around me snicker. The judge glowers at the crowd. “Order.”
The convict places his boots on the table, reclining in his chair, an air of satisfaction enveloping him. I purse my lips when the deputies fail to instruct Ghost to place his feet on the floor, but a quick scan of their features offers mild relief. I suppose a relaxed serial killer in a non-threatening position isn’t worth provoking. At least notthisone.
In a rush the clerk finishes, “Presiding over this case is Honorable Judge Pritchett.”
“Now that you’ve heard the charges against you, it’s my duty to ensure that you understand your rights throughout these proceedings,” the judge says to Ghost. “You have the right to an attorney, which you refused. Is that correct?”
Ghost shrugs. “Why would I hire someone dumber than me? Good help is so hard to find nowadays.”
“Answer the question, Mr. Doe.”
“I thought I did. I intend to represent myself.” His grin returns. “Your Honorship.”
The judge blows out a breath. “Given the results of your competency evaluation, I will allow it. Counselor?”
The prosecutor stands. He smooths out his blue tie and lifts hischin, eyes narrowed on Ghost before shifting his gaze to the judge. “Given the severity of the charges and the potential danger to the public, we request that the defendant be held without bail. The nature of the crimes indicates a high flight risk and further risk to the citizens of New York.”
Judge Pritchett nods at Ghost. “Do you wish to respond to the prosecution’s request for detention without bail?”
Ghost chuckles, his ever-present smirk still in place. “I have no intention to flee. I turnedmyselfin, remember?”
The courtroom buzzes with suppressed laughter once again. Even I can’t stop the smile that forms on my lips. Although I’m quick to erase it from my face and focus my attention on taking notes.
“I’ll take your voluntary surrender into account, but you will be held in custody until your trial. With that being said, you have a right to a jury trial…”
The judge lists each and every one of Ghost’s legal rights, his voice steady and resonant. Every so often he sweeps his gaze over the courtroom, but Ghost doesn’t move. He stays reclined in his chair, nodding here and there as though aptly paying attention to the judge.
“It’s crucial, Mr. Doe, that you fully understand these rights, given the severity of the charges you face. What is your plea?”
Every pair of eyes shoot to Ghost as he tilts his head, causing his pale disheveled hair to graze his shoulder. “Guilty, your Honorship.”
The simplicity of the word “guilty” discredits the complexity of its implications. Which isn’t lost on anyone present. As a collective, we stare at this enigmatic man. What reason, other than to plead guilty, would he have to turn himself in? Yet it’s still a shockto hear him accept the charges and the loss of freedom that comes with it.
Judge Pritchett nods, his expression grave. “Mr. Doe, do you understand that by entering this plea, you waive your rights to a trial and to challenge the evidence against you?”
