It was cold that morning both in temperature and spirit. The bellowing bell marked the start of the trial in the case of Rice vs. Hope. They stood on opposite ends of the courtroom, arranged to look like a massive balancing scale. On the left was the prosecutor, Ms. Ava Rice, accusing the defendant of theft from miscellaneous aspects of her assets. On the right was the defendant, Ms. Faith Hope, whose bright demeanor and good spirit would unfortunately not suffice as adequate legal defense. 

       Ms. Rice was dressed to kill in high-end (and ethically questionable sourced) fashion. Her imposing tall and slim figure was crowned with a face so full of makeup it was as if it had been beat for the gods. She was the questionable heir to the Hope fortune, a vault filled with charitable proceeds by the late Joy Hope before she had died mysteriously yet tragically in a fire. Some questioned why the funds didn’t go to the charities Joy was involved in or her daughter, but everyone who mattered stood by and let Ms. Rice take the prize.

       Ms. Hope wore a simple blue and white dress she’d owned for as long as she could remember. Her face was framed by brunette bangs and used to bear a smile, but today was solemn. This wasn’t all that unusual as of late though, as Ms. Hope had lost her best friend - her mother - some time ago in a fire. She stood short, sad, and alone on the defendant side while Ms. Rice was flanked by two lawyers across the room. 

       At the center of the courtroom was the mysterious Justice V, whose initial the Gallery couldn’t tell stood for Virtue or Vice. The tall and intimidating figure was dressed in trailing robes of the darkest black beneath hair gleaming silver. A pair of sunglasses shielded the judge’s eyes as the gavel slammed into the stand to call order. 

———

       The day never grew much warmer as the trial trudged on. Ms. Rice’s lawyers ran the room. One relentlessly questioned Ms. Hope while the other deflected all questions directed at Ms. Rice. You’ve been forewarned that her bright demeanor and good spirit would not suffice in a court of cold, hard justice. Despite Ms. Hope’s decent claims of innocence and attributable alibis, Ms. Rice’s wicked words and twisted tales of treachery stirred the jurors' hearts. They had no choice; her accusations were too good, and their notes read, “frankly, Ms. Hope’s frugalness and family ties were all the motive she needed.” 

———

       Justice V called order in court for one last time to reveal the verdict… “this court finds Ms. Hope guilty of all charges of theft of miscellaneous assets of Ms. Rice’s aspects and sentences the defendant to death.” That day the initial stood for Vice. The Gallery cheered and watched with anticipation as the jury left their bench to join the audience. Justice V flipped a switch beneath the stand and the entire room began to shift. Ms. Rice and her lawyers ascended as the scale tipped, sending Ms. Hope into the perilous pit below.

     While the evening was even colder than the morning, Ms. Hope felt quite the opposite as she was lowered slowly to her demise. Smoke rose around the sides of the platform from the fire beneath which she grew closer to by the second. No more were her bright demeanor and good spirit, replaced instead by a burning question in her final moments: why? Why would Ms. Rice do such a thing? To falsely accuse her of stealing objects Ms. Rice couldn’t even name from her vast collection? Why did Justice V choose Vice today? Why was the crowd cheering even louder as the fire began to pour over the sides of the platform and engulf her? Why is the world so cruel, she thought one last time, looking up as Ms. Rice letting out a crazed cackle.      

       The two sides couldn’t be more different. Most striking was that Ms. Hope was innocent and Ms. Rice was, in fact, guilty.