More flashes as they took in the Justice with his black gloved hands on the podium that looked rather like talons in that moment even though his expression was mild.
“We had to find a framework that would balance all of these positions so that all would sign onto the eventual result,” Justice St. John stated. “So the death penalty was taken off the table first.”
Questions were shouted out at the Justice.
“But what about those families of victims that wanted to see eye-for-an-eye? Shouldn’t their desires have more weight than that of other territories that were not as impacted?” one reporter yelled.
Another added, “What about the individuals who were kidnapped by these people, whose bodies were used by the Behemoth, and who now are without their souls? What justice can there be for them?”
“And there are fears that these people’s souls won’t be reborn either and are stuck in the Spirit Realm! How can incarceration ever be enough for them?” another shouted.
Justice St. John listened carefully to the question. He appeared somber and gray. He didn’t try to speak again until the flurry of questions was over. The crowd grew silent once more.
“Justice can sometimes seem a thin, bare branch compared to the wrongs that have been done,” he said calmly. “I would argue that nothing can truly address the wounds that these people--and many others--have caused over time. Even death for death is not truly enough, because one could argue that the death of an innocent is worth so much more than the death of a criminal. Punishment, alone, will never meet the wrongs done. So that is hardly justice.”
The Justice’s black-eyed gaze swept the crowd and he seemed to be seeing beyond them. It was not known how old Justice St. John was. There were rumors that he had lived when Mesopotamia thrived and had a different name then. One that some might recognize today. But he never spoke of it. Yet in this moment, people could hear the call of the ages in his voice.
“Rehabilitation is not always possible either. People resist acknowledging their wrongs or changing because of approbation. And, despite seeing examples of what will happen if one goes against the law, deterrence is hardly completely successful as we have and will continue to have criminals,” Justice St. John went on. “So both punishment and rehabilitation are flawed as are all things.”
He smiled but with understanding at his own inability to fix all that was wrong with the world with the law he clearly loved.
“The defendant and how he or she or they react to their punishment, therefore, is not perhaps the measure of justice,” he explained. “As a society, we should not be measuring our justice by its effects on criminals, but on how it reflects our values. How it reflects on us and how we wish our society to be.”
The crowd was quiet except for the click of cameras and the whistle of the wind.
“The Behemoth sought to make us into slaves. As vessels of its chosen followers. To displace our souls and end our being in the Wheel of life,” Justice St. John said as he held up a fist and opened it up quickly as if to show a soul leaving a body. “It tricked all into thinking its plan was to do something quite different. Longing to be powerful, wanting to be on top, desiring to have respect. All of these things motivated the defendants. We can understand these things, even if we would never do what they did to try and attain them. But none among them understood the Behemoth’s true monstrous plan.”
“So you’re saying since they didn’t know the Behemoth meant to use all of us that they should be treated less harshly?” a reporter called.
“What about those that set the bombs?” another added.
Justice St. John nodded. “Yes, as to the first. As to the second, those involved in the bombings have had that calculated into their sentence. What I would simply ask all of you and your viewers is to contemplate that nothing we do now can undo the past. All we can do is to guard against a similar future. But, also, let us not become a world that seeks only revenge for that way lies madness. That way is not our way.”
Justice St. John made to turn away from the podium. The reporters were again shouting questions at the top of their lungs. But only one reporter’s question got through to the Justice who turned to answer it.
The question was, “What about Jasper Hawes? Tell us what his sentence is!”
Justice St. John turned back to the podium, helped by Grant Bryce. He fixed his steady Raven Shifter eyes upon them, “Jasper Hawes as the leader of Humans First inflamed people’s prejudices. He stoked the fires of hatred. He took legitimate harms and turned them into fuel for prejudice and distrust. And, ironically, he wanted to be a Shifter in order to rule in the way he claimed Shifters already did. He led so many people astray. Because of this, the harshest sentence possible was awarded by unanimous consent. Jasper Hawes will be in prison for the rest of his life.”
The Justice turned away from the podium for the last time, ignoring the pleas of the reporters to answer just one more question. The program turned back to the studio where Claire and Tom were staring at the video of the Justice. Both of them pulled themselves away with effort.
“Well, there you have it, folks. Jasper Hawes will serve a true life sentence for his crimes,” Tom said with a slight twist of his lips. “I know that many people were hoping he would be sentenced to death, Claire. Despite the Justice’s lofty words, I do believe that some people’s minds won’t be changed on that account.”
“You may be right, Tom.” Claire looked a little unnerved by that. “But that doesn’t mean they’re right. This sentence while not as harsh as it could be still affords justice. Though from what we all know about Jasper Hawes, not being a Shifter, is punishment enough.”
Tom turned to the secondary camera as he said, “While we will be bringing on guests who will have much more to say on the sentencing, our next subject is something infinitely happier. The coming wedding of our very own King Valerius and King Caden! People have lots to say about the wedding theme--”
Caden turned off the television in the Emporium and adjusted the hood of his unicorn shifter sweatshirt to hide his face from the milling patrons.
“Don’t want to hear about your own wedding, Caden?” Landry snorted from her perch behind the register.
He was dusting knicknacks by the front so the customers who milled about the shop were too far away to hear them.
“It’s not my wedding. As Chione has made clear--and my mother and my father and Tilly and Anwar and, well, everyone--since neither me or Valerius had any definite ideas, people with actual ones have got all the say.”
Landry snorted again. “Oh, boy, that can’t be good.”
“Why do you think I’m working here incognito than at High Reach where the florists and the tailors and the chefs can find me?” he asked, flapping his arms.
