By James B. Revell
“I don’t know how the fire started. I was just passing the house…” John’s expression gave nothing away.
He thought about his life so far: his dysfunctional family, the unsuccessful placements, the wankers in social services, and the Filth: the dumb bastards still didn’t know about the car…
“Have you anything else to say before I pass sentence?”
John looked the judge in the eye.
“No,” he said and sat down.
The psychologist’s report commented on John’s intelligence and the threat he posed to society.
Leaving the dock, John pictured his stepfather’s car, a souped-up Cortina with its brake lines cut.
Clever story in that it reveals the guy’s guilt without specifically stating it. Liked this one!
Thank you, Bobby. I suspect that former colleagues in the Met Police and in Special Education would disagree as to where all the guilt should lie.
A wonderful piece with nice complexities. Have you ever thought about a life of crime? :>)
Thank you Tamara. Life is full of complications, don’t you think? Sometimes the distinction between right and wrong can be blurred…..
I liked this one too. A good ending — satisfying in some strange way.
Thank you kindly Joanna.
I had to read it twice, but that’s not bad for such a short piece. I like that I get some answer at the end, but am also left wondering. The stories that stick with me th longest are ones I wonder about. Well done.
Thank you, David, for your thoughtful response.
smack on the head! very powerful, my friend.
Thank you, Subhankar. I’m grateful for your feedback.