May 2025, 3rd: True Justice

‘…And on the charges of three counts of first degree murder, we, the jury, find the defendant…not guilty.’

The courthouse erupted. There was shouting from the gallery, the judge’s gavel rang out, and the prosecutor put his head in his hands. The defendant, Vas Gutierrez, was expressionless and perfectly still. Already, the attendees of the trial could hear the cacophony of paparazzi through the maple double-doors.

Vas collected his pistol from the bailiff and walked down the courthouse steps as a free man. The police hadn’t found the three petrol canisters buried beneath the foundation of his new holiday house…each filled with acid and human remains. They hadn’t seen the bloody rags, still soaked in chloroform. He had driven out to the prairie and buried them.

‘Home, I presume?’ asked the chauffeur as Vas entered the back seat of the waiting car.

‘Yes,’ said Vas. ‘I’ve wasted enough time already.’

The chauffeur pulled out into traffic, and turned to look at Vas.

‘Time is never a waste.’

Vas furrowed his brow. He did not recognise the man.

‘You’re not my chauffeur,’ he said.

The man in the driver’s seat grinned.

‘I am your chauffeur…though your destination is not one you intended to visit.’

So, the cartel wants no loose ends.

Vas tightened his seatbelt as the car slowed in the turn. He unholstered his pistol. He raised it and pressed the barrel to the back of the man’s head, then pulled the trigger.

The ricochet almost took Vas’s head off. The bullet, flattened by the impact, shattered the rear window. The driver turned, the back of his head undamaged, his expression soured.

‘That was rude. To be expected of a murderer of women and children, I suppose.’

He pressed a finger to his watch.

Everything disappeared.

Blindingly white halls materialized around them. Men in flowing white garb flanked them. The ‘chauffeur’ pulled his finger away from his watch, which was not a watch at all, but his own internally lit skin. He turned to Vas and swept his arm across himself. From his neat suit, a drapery of purest white unfolded. As Vas watched, the man’s appearance was transformed. The ‘chauffeur’ stood before him as a new man; even the shape of his face had changed. Narrow eyes and a blade of a nose sat just above his thin-pressed mouth.

‘And now,’ he intoned, ‘your true trial can begin.’

Around them, the hall dissolved, to be replaced by a dirty alley, a black car parked blocking its entrance.

‘This is…’ Vas muttered.

‘Where you killed them.’

On cue, a perfect replica of Vas stepped out of the car and unfurled a black plastic mat with unnecessary flourish. He opened the back door of the car. Two human-sized figures, wrapped in black fabric, were hauled out onto the mat. He pulled a second, much smaller figure out of the boot, and threw it down next to the other two.

In sheer disbelief, Vas watched himself walk from one figure to the next, shooting each one directly in the face.

‘What is this?’ Vas’s voice quavered.

‘This,’ said the thin man, ‘is justice. We have surpassed humanity as it once was. We exist here, outside of time.’

He gestured to the scene around them.

‘Our temporal observational technology grants us omniscience,’ he said. ‘We see all injustices committed throughout history… and rectify them.’

Vas was now beginning to panic. He reached for his pistol.

The thin man shook his head.

‘True justice is a timeless concept.’

Vas noticed, or perhaps saw appear in the alley, a single petrol canister. He forgot about the pistol.

‘T-there wasn’t a canister in this alley… ‘

‘Quite true. It is here in this hall, with us.’

Vas stumbled backwards, hyperventilating. His pistol was gone.

‘Time is a flat circle. Nothing can be changed. Our interference in time is destiny.’

The thin man continued.

Our justice is imperceptible. We return the body to its time. Nothing is disturbed. The time loop is stable. All is as it was meant to be.’

The thin man raised Vas’s pistol, suddenly in his hand, and pointed it at its owner’s head.

‘It is a pity we cannot revive you two times more,’ said the thin man, ‘to deliver the punishment you truly deserve.’

‘Why?’ Vas asked, staring down the dark barrel of the pistol. ‘Don’t you all have anything better to do?! You can’t do this!’

‘We already have.’

With a smile, the thin man produced a single torn page of a newspaper from his sleeve. It was a news report dated three years from the day of the acquittal…concerning the discovery of a single petrol canister containing the corroded remains of Vas Gutteriez.

‘Retribution…’ said the thin man, ‘…is the only true justice.’

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