Monday, September 7, 2009

The design of justice


By R. Lakshminarayan


Dedicated to Contra (Nisheet Pandey) who can kill the best character in a story with panache.


Synopsis

Every lawsuit is a game. A game of reason where the wheel of justice turns around to quash all evil, while stringently upholding the truth. Some cases are tried at the discretion of a jury. Some lawyers build cases on moral grounds eloquently playing the “race card”. Some lawyers free criminals on the basis of reasonable doubt or insufficient evidence. However, in all cases we believe that justice has been served. In the whole process, we all seem to forget the greater design. The design of Justice. It works on everyone. It waits for the right time. It may not be served immediately but it upholds itself on Judgment day. Still, at the end of the day we still wonder: Is this Just?

Prologue

John William Sweeney opened his suitcase and looked into it with tired eyes. He was fighting this case for his brother, who was charged for murder in the first degree. Nervously, he placed the suitcase on the table and sat down on the chair to meditate. This was a part of his therapy. He moved his head sideways and twitched his neck after a while. The Courtroom was going to be in session in an hour but he liked to get accustomed to his surroundings better. This was his third case and probably his toughest. His brother, Marcus William Sweeney, was the top lawyer of the firm Sweeney, Lewiston and North. Being the named partner of a law firm is not an indicator of hard work and dedication. It requires skills which only a prodigy like Mark could possess.

Marcus William Sweeney was no doubt a legend in his field. He could make the jury shed tears for a rapist with his closing statement, embroiling the accused in a veil of innocence

Mark was not only popular in the District of Massachusetts, but his exploits made him an international figure thanks to the famous Nazi war criminal trial for crimes against humanity of Herman Goering vs. the Republic of Israel in 1967. Astonishingly, Goering was found “not guilty” by the international jury of the World War II tribunal which resulted in public outcry as well as critical acclaim for Mark(Goering was later hunted down and killed by Israeli intelligence: Mossad).

Today, Mark was implicated in the murder of an abusive husband, who had died due to head injuries sustained from a blunt object. What was even more intriguing about this case was that Mark had never been charged with any crime throughout his illustrious career as a lawyer. There were three eyewitnesses to the crime scene. The wife of the deceased was the only direct and strong witness to the crime. The Boston Police Department was not even sure about Mark’s involvement in the crime. In fact, Mark had come forward and surrendered to the police voluntarily. He was neither related to the deceased nor his wife and to assume that he committed the crime with a motive was clearly baseless. The police were seemingly baffled and yet content with the fact that they didn’t have to go on a mad hunt to nail the killer. It was an open and shut case for them but the chief of police confessed to the media that he had never before witnessed an absurd and confusing case as this one.

Chapter I: Mark William Sweeney vs. the State of Massachusetts

John’s mind was speeding into darkness. His largely unsuccessful stint as a lawyer was again under the scanner. It was surprising that the brother of the top lawyer in the United States was the worst at getting clients. Not many knew that his brother Mark had never considered him worthy of anything. When John applied for the position of a legal associate at Sweeney, Lewiston and North, his resume was flung at his face by his own dear brother. Mark had also told him that he could probably defend a rotten pig for inhabiting a junkyard. And yet, here he was, in the district court defending his prolific brother for a murder charge, a charge which could send Mark to the chair of death. John could never understand why his brother Mark had asked him to fight the case. Was Mark playing a trick on him? Even as a child Mark made him feel impotent and weak.

They were brothers of destiny. Looking at them, one would think they are twins. They shared the same birthday but Mark was elder to John by 2 years. Also, Mark was about an inch taller than his younger brother. But people never noticed such subtle differences when they were seen in isolation. The real question in everybody’s mind was “why did Mark Sweeney, the best lawyer in town, choose his distraught and unskilled brother for defending him in a murder trial?” Was this the family reunion of the decade? Did they forget their social differences for the sake of brotherhood?

Chapter 2: The Case

All Rise. Honorable Judge William Madison will preside over the proceedings. Case number 1021: Mr. Mark William Sweeney vs. the State of Massachusetts on the murder in the first degree of Mr. Jason Rodham Rush.

Judge: Am I to understand that the defendant will be represented by Mr. Jonathan William Sweeney?

John: Yes your honor.

Mark (callously): Ditto, Your honor.

Judge: Mr. Mark Sweeney, Let me make this clear to you. You shall not use such words in my court and you shall not resort to any antics or I shall hold you in contempt. Is that clear?

Mark: (smiling deviously) Sure your honor. Since my brother is fighting this case, I just think that he may be far too dumb to even make such comments.

The Judge glared at the defendant with his bloodshot eyes as John still stood with his eyes fixated on his brother. Mark never had any real respect for John but he never expected such harsh words in front of the whole court room infested with media.

Judge: I would also remind the media that they are not to make any noise which could lead to their eviction from the courtroom. I shall now hear from the District attorney.

District Attorney Alan Harper was a seasoned lawyer in his forties. He had lost all his cases against Mark Sweeney and in the course of time, had developed an acute dislike for him and his manipulative tactics. He wouldn’t leave this chance to nail his nemesis. In fact, even before the case was put up, Harper launched himself into the police chief’s office for the case details. This was his redemption, his judgment day.

DA Alan Harper: May I please the court, the defendant is accused of murder in the first degree…

Mark: Your honor, I request you to waive off the reading. The defendant wants to plead not guilty.

Judge: Mr. Mark Sweeney, let your lawyer do the talking. Am I to understand that you feel inadequately represented?

Mark: Your honor, my brother is a moron. He should be sitting in an elementary school right now but I interjected on my behalf as I think Mr. John Sweeney doesn’t even have the balls to stand up without wetting his pants.

Judge (angrily): Sit down Mr. Sweeney. I am warning you.

Mark (smiling): Why are you getting angry? I haven’t even started talking about your sexually deviant wife yet.

Judge (furiously strikes his gavel on the table): Mr. Sweeney, enough! One more word from your mouth and I will hold you in contempt.

Mark (still smiling): Thank You, your Honor for your kind words.

Judge: The Jury shall hear the case at 2 PM in this court. Till then, we are adjourned.

Chapter 3: Lies

As Mark and John made their way out of the courtroom cutting through the media’s glare and questions, John seemed to be in a state of humiliation. They sat in a car and Mark gave a big annoying grin to his brother.

Mark: Johnny, What the hell were you doing in the court? When will you get your ass off the chair?

John: Why did you paint me as an idiot in front of the cameras?

Mark (sarcastically): Oh. Now you are the big personality. Wait a Minute. We are fighting a murder trial here. We are not advertising for ladies lingerie out there.

John (angrily): What gives you the right to make me look like a fool?

Mark: Well, let us rewind here. Why did you have to bang the victim’s wife in the first place? You piece of shit, I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t swinging your bell in married homes.

Flashback (three months before the murder)

(John and Joanna in bed)

John (panting): When is your husband coming home?

Joanna (smoking): He is out washing hotel bathrooms with his dirty hands. I won’t let that dirty pig touch me ever. (Tears welling up on her calm and pale face) He should die. He should die for all eternity.

John: Shh. Shhh… Don’t cry. Don’t cry. I can’t see this beautiful face spoiled by tears. How can this piece of shit treat you like this?

Joanna: He treats me like a whore. He comes in drunk and swings his priced bat at me. He should die. (Bursting into tears of repression)

John: File for divorce. I will fight your case. Let me do it.

Joanna: Divorce. After two years of painful beating is that what I deserve? And then what? He doesn’t have a penny in his social security savings. I will still be a whore in the eyes of the world. (Suddenly her face lights up) I know how to do it. I know how to finish this off. Then we can go to Venezuela. My aunt stays there. Only you can do it. Only if you love me enough.

John: I will do anything for you. That bastard can never touch you again.

Chapter 4: May I please the court

1:55 PM (Present day)

John stood watching the fountain outside the courthouse. This was getting difficult for him. Mark was having lunch at Pencant’e de royale with his associates discussing new clients and making executive decisions. Why did Mark take up the blame? What is he achieving here?

2:00 PM

John: May I please the court. I have already submitted the witness list, your honor. On behalf of my client, I would like to plead not guilty to the charges leveled against him, on the grounds of insufficient evidence.

Mark: Objection, your honor.

Judge (whimsical): What?? You cannot object to your own plea.

Mark: Your honor. Request consultation with my lawyer.

Judge: Granted. Please resolve this issue Mr. Sweeney. The court will not tolerate your stupid antics in future.

(Mark walks up to John and grabs him by the arm.)

Mark: (whispering angrily) what the hell are you doing? Insufficient evidence? I surrendered for god’s sake. Get your act together, will you?

John: (nonchalantly) what? I just thought of raising reasonable doubt in front of the jury.

Mark: We are not playing that trick. I want this my way. You play along or I tell the court how stupid you are.

John: (grudgingly) Ok.

Mark: Your honor. Request for recess.

Judge: Mr. Sweeney. We just had lunch. Why the hell do you want recess now?

DA Alan Harper: Your honor. The defense is playing mute.

Judge: I am not blind Mr. Harper. You don’t need to point out every lunatic step in this case. I shall grant you 10 minutes recess Mr. Sweeney, but I warn you, you are punishing my patience here.

Chapter 5: The right defense

Mark: You stupid screw-up. What the hell do you think we are running here? A chicken factory? I have confessed to the crime, and yet, you want to prove insufficient evidence. Don’t you just get it? Is this what they taught you at your stupid third grade law school?

John: (trembling) I just thought I could play the reasonable doubt card. The jury will love it. We are practically identical twins. I can show them that I could have been the murderer. In law school they always say you don’t need to catch the real criminal. You just have to prove that your client didn’t commit the crime.

Mark: Yeah. Only if I hadn’t gone and confessed, you lousy junkie. (Yelling) WHAT THE HELL DO YOU… (Calms down) You know we are not identical. We are just reflections. The only difference is that your pea sized brain is not even good enough to distinguish between a spoon and a fork. You are a disgrace. Our parents should have drowned you in our backyard pool. Heck, I should have done it. What a fool. Shit. From now on, I am writing your lines. Follow my instructions and words and don’t you dare deviate from them. I have prepared a list of lines which you will use in court. Do you get that, you half bred mongrel? (Yelling) Did you get that?

Flashback (19 years back)

(John and Mark are playing in their room.)

Mark: Hey Johnny. Come on, give me your finger.

(John gives his finger reluctantly)

(SNAP! Mark breaks little John’s finger with anger)

Mark: Never touch my stuff again. You get it? Play with your own shitty toys.

(John starts wailing in pain. He cries for help. He calls his mom incessantly. Suddenly, Mark picks up a razor blade from his pocket and looks at John with a deviant smile and then runs the razor through his own palm thrice. Blood starts dripping from Mark’s hands. John looks in horror and stops crying. Why did Mark hurt himself? As their mother comes running towards them, Mark suddenly hugs John.)

Mark: Mommy. He didn’t do it on purpose, don’t hurt Johnny. He didn’t do it on purpose.

Mother: What did you do Johnny? What happened?

(Mark shows his blood drenched palm with a blunt face. Mom also notices a blood stained razor on the ground)

Mark: Don’t hit him mother. He didn’t do it on purpose.

Mother rushes ahead and slaps John who is unable to understand the turn of events. She then picks up Mark to dress his wounds. While leaving the room with his mother, Mark turns towards John wearing a sly smile on his face. John sits alone with a broken finger and a red face, still unable to conceive what had actually happened.

Chapter 6: Witness

DA Alan Harper: The prosecution calls its first witness, Mr. Engleworth, neighbor of the deceased Mr. Jason Rodham Rush.

Reader: Sir, Please take the stand. Do you solemnly swear in the name of god that thou shall speak the truth no matter what?

Engleworth: I do.

DA Alan Harper: Mr. Engleworth, Will you tell the court how the events transpired on the night of 2nd December 1990. Please do not miss out any details.

Engleworth: I heard some shrieks at around 10:15 PM. I was taking my nap and I was startled by the noise. I have heard these shrieks before at around the same time. But this time the cry was more painful. It sounded big, you know.

DA Alan Harper: Were these shouts of help coming from the victim Mr. Jason Rush’s house.

Engleworth: Yes. I’m sure about that.

DA Alan Harper: (looking at the jury) Please continue.

Engleworth: I crept to my window and tried to peek into my neighbor’s house. The lights were turned off and I couldn’t see anything. But I heard several thud like sounds, like somebody was being beaten or like someone was being thrashed.

DA Alan Harper: Did you raise an alarm or go to their house to inspect.

Engleworth: No. How could I? I am an old man. I have several prostrate problems. (Turns to face the jury) You see I am on these life saving drugs and I am afraid that I may fall down if I move too much. I just don’t want to strain myself. If I were younger I would have gone to inspect the house myself. Being a world war veteran, I like to have things under my control.

Judge: Mr. Engleworth, don’t recite your stories. Keep your answers specific to the questions.

DA Alan Harper: What else can you tell us Mr. Engleworth?

Engleworth: Well, I waited for long by my window. Then after an hour or so a figure appeared. It was a man. Just like the defendant. Then he sat in his car and drove away.

DA Alan Harper: Did you see the car Mr. Engleworth.

Engleworth: I didn’t have my glasses on so I could not see the number on his plates, but it looked like a Mustang.

DA Alan Harper: Thank You Mr. Engleworth. Defense’s witness.

(John rose from his seat and looked at Mark, who was quietly resting on his chair with a look of amusement on his face.)

John: Mr. Engleworth, The shrieks you heard. Were they the shrieks of a woman in distress?

Engleworth: Yes, as I said I have heard them before but…

John (interrupting): Mr. Engleworth, You said you stood for half an hour by the window. Why didn’t you come out of your house instead?

Engleworth: Like I said I was never sure if I would be able to walk across my …

John (interrupting): Mr. Engleworth, do you realize that if you lie in this court you may be committing perjury. Did the prosecution tell you to render these details or are you making them up yourself.

Engleworth: Well, well, you are a young scoundrel. I am a war veteran Mr. Legal pants, treat me with some respect you imbecile.

John: Mr. Engleworth, How old are you?

Engleworth: I am 85.

John: And you wear glasses, don’t you?

Engleworth: Yes I do.

John: How can you be sure that the person who came out of the house was the defendant and not someone else?

Engleworth: Of course it was him. My garage lights are always on. I could see his…

John: Can you tell whether it was the defendant or me? Can you say for sure Mr. Engleworth?

Mark: Objection your honor?

Judge: You cannot object to your own defense Mr. Mark Sweeney.

John: Can you say for sure that it wasn’t me who exit the house that night.

Engleworth: Well you both look like twins but I am sure it was the other fellow.

DA Alan Harper: Objection your honor. The defense is playing tricks.

Mark: For once I concur with Mr. Harper, your honor. May I speak to my lawyer this instant?

Judge: OK. This is getting ridiculous now. I will adjourn the proceedings. We will start the proceedings tomorrow at 11 AM sharp. And Mr. Mark Sweeney, please consult your lawyer “before” you defend yourself in court. The court is adjourned.

Chapter 7: In the car

Mark: What the hell were you playing there Johnny? I told you not to choose that line of defense. There is no reasonable doubt that I committed the crime. I confessed remember.

John: Confessions are not admissible to the court under section 34...

Mark: Shut up. SHUT UP you piece of shit. Do you want me to go ahead and tell the police that you killed Mr. Rush? Then you would be against me. And I will bring out all your dirty secrets. Do you want me to tell the court, how you used to fuck Mr. Jason Rush’s wife? You want me to tell them, don’t you?

John: Then you would have lied to the court. You would have committed perjury.

Mark: I haven’t even taken the stand yet, you moron, which means I am immune to perjury. The DA will have to reverse the case on you. Plus I will act as their witness if you don’t shut up and listen to me. As I told you, I will choose the path. I will plead the “right to protect an innocent”.

John: Why? So that the press portrays you as a hero?

Mark: No, you rotten sewer hole. I am doing this to save your pathetic ass. Do you understand me Johnny boy?

John: (silent)

Mark: Yes, just as I thought. You never had the balls to pull this off Johnny and you never will have. That is why they call me the justice man of America. I am taking over the case now Johnny. You can watch and learn from the expert. The jury will cry for me. Wait till you see me in action

Flashback (the night of the murder 10:14 PM)

Joanna: He shall come in any moment. I shall cry for help when you start hitting him. This way people will think he is hitting me.

John: Does he really hit you everyday?

Joanna: What do you mean? Where do you think I got these scars from? Shh… shh he is coming.

Mr. Jason Rush enters his house using his key and suddenly the power goes out. John swings the baseball bat on Rush’s head using all the force he can gather. Mr. Rush falls to the floor. He moans and tries to get up. By this time Joanna has started crying for help. John swings again in a fit of impulse. He then keeps swinging till blood sprays from Mr. Rush’s head. Joanna is still crying and John keeps hitting the head till some fragments of brain and skull fly across the room. Then he stops. Joanna stops crying. There is silence. John is suddenly overtaken by remorse and fear. He has never killed a person before. He trembles and drops the bat on the floor.

Joanna: There, you did it. You freed me darling. I don’t have to live in a prison anymore. (Sees John’s pale face) What is it Johnny? You saved me. We can now run away to Venezuela. I have his life insurance cover. No one can stop us now. Why are you worried? I have his will he left the house to me. I have already sold it to some tenants. Look at me Johnny.

John: I have never killed anyone.

Joanna: You did it for my protection. You saved an innocent.

John: But we planned this. We planned the whole murder.

Joanna: I love you Johnny. Do you love me? You didn’t commit a crime. You saved us both. We can live in peace. We are one now.

John: No. No. I killed him. (Starts weeping) I killed a man. Oh god! I killed a man.

After half an hour of self incrimination John starts running towards the door.

John: (with swollen eyes and anxiety) I have to run. Oh my God, I have to run.

Joanna: Johnny, wait. Wait Johnny. I love you Johnny.

John rushes outside to his car and speeds away while Mr. Engleworth watches in amazement and confusion from his window.

Chapter 8: Motive

Mark: Your honor. There is a slight change in the proceedings. I will defend myself. My lawyer will second chair.

Judge: Does the prosecution have an objection? If you have, you may speak now.

DA Alan Harper: None your honor. I am a fan of Mr. Mark Sweeney’s antics. There is nothing better than watching a clown show his tricks.

Judge: You may continue, Mr. Sweeney.

Mark: Thank You, Your Honor.

DA Alan Harper: Prosecution calls Sergeant James Thomas Billow of the Boston Police Department.

(Sgt. Billow takes the stand and the oath)

DA Alan Harper: Sir, What was your hypothesis on inspecting the crime scene?

Sgt. Billow: Well Sir, The fact is that we never knew about the murder before Mr. Sweeney showed up in the morning at the police station.

DA Alan Harper: Well then, what did Mr. Sweeney tell you?

Sgt. Billow: He said he had been driving through that street on the night of 2nd December 1990. Then he heard some shrieking sounds in the neighborhood and he stepped out of his vehicle in order to inspect the chaos. Then he heard some crying noises again. He identified the house and rushed into it. The door was unlocked which was later confirmed through the wife of the victim. He then picked up a 1986 wood class baseball bat and struck the victim Mr. Rush, on the head, thrice. He also claimed that the victim did not fall unconscious and was also attacking Mr. Sweeney, which compelled him to swing the bat again. This time however, the blow was fatal.

DA Alan Harper: Did Mr. Sweeney tell you precisely what compelled him to commit the crime?

Sgt. Billow: Yes Sir, he did. He said he was protecting an individual from domestic battery. In fact, he pointed out several sections in the law and the bible which justified the use of force to protect innocent people. He also claimed to have no contact with the victim or his wife, prior to this encounter, which made his cause of action legally unprecedented. He claimed that he was doing it to protect the woman, but also intended to render Mr., Rush unconscious so that he could be apprehended by the appropriate authorities. He confessed to the crime quite voluntarily which made it easier for us to investigate the crime scene. The wife of the victim was in shock and could confirm only some parts of the story.

DA Alan Harper: Sergeant Billow, Did you ever ask Mr. Sweeney, why he didn’t call the Police department immediately after the crime.

Sgt. Billow: He claimed that the phone line in the house was dead as was the nearest telephone booth. We confirmed this too.

DA Alan Harper: Sgt. Billow, I am now compelled to ask you, did you ever wonder why Mr. Sweeney didn’t rush to the police station on the night of the murder. In fact, records show that he waited till dawn to construct and justify a decent story. Isn’t that true Sergeant?

Mark: Objection, Speculative.

Judge: Sustained.

DA Alan Harper: Sergeant, did you ask Mr. Sweeney as to why he appeared at the police station only in the morning?

Sgt. Billow: We did Sir. But he said it was a cold chilly night and he was feeling tired. He felt that he could go home and sleep. Since we had his confession anyway, this delay really did not matter to us.

DA Alan Harper: Let me ask you this Sergeant. Do you believe in God?

Sgt. Billow: Yes Sir, I do.

DA Alan Harper: Do you believe this fairytale story Mr. Sweeney told you?

Sgt. Billow: Well Sir, I have to say that we bought Mr. Sweeney’s story completely when we saw the crime scene. But the only thing that came to my mind was fingerprints. I had a doubt at one point when I saw that the bat had no finger prints. I just felt it could be a well planned murder if the assailant was so particular that he left no finger prints. That is precisely why we charged him with murder in the first degree.

DA Alan Harper: You think Mr. Sweeney planned this? (Facing the jury) You mean he didn’t do it to save an innocent soul?

Sgt. Billow: That is what we felt after our investigation.

DA Alan Harper: Thank you Sgt. Billow. Defense’s witness

Mark: Sgt. Billow wasn’t it embarrassing for the Boston police department that they never came to know about the murder in the first place. They only came to know about it after I confessed. Doesn’t that make you feel incompetent, Sgt. Billow?

DA Alan Harper: Objection Your honor, irrelevant.

Judge: Sustained. Sergeant, you need not answer that question.

Mark: Sgt. Billow. How cold was the night of 2nd December? Just give me a rough idea.

Sgt. Billow: Well it was cold sir. Quite chilly I suppose. We had snow cover in most parts of the city.

Mark: Well in that case, Sgt. Do you wear a coat or a blazer when you feel cold?

DA Alan Harper: Objection your honor. What is the defense trying to achieve here?

Mark: That will be clear very soon your honor.

Sgt. Billow: Well yeah. I do wear a jacket to keep myself warm. In fact we wear boots, woolen trousers, thick caps and gloves to keep …

Mark: In that case, Sergeant. Is it very hard to believe that I might be driving my car wearing a pair of woolen gloves?

Sgt. Billow: Not at all Sir.

Mark: In fact, is it not possible that due to the escalating chain of events, I might have still adorned the gloves while holding the bat?

Sgt. Billow: It is possible sir.

Mark: (looking at the jury) I never thought the DA could stoop to such levels in order to make me look like a paid assassin. Mr. Harper here would have wanted my fingerprints on the bat. It is a crime to even wear gloves now. Please vote for our next presidential candidate Mr. Alan Harper.

(Laughter in the courtroom)

Judge: Order, order. Is that all Mr. Sweeney?

Mark: yes your honor.

DA Alan Harper: The prosecution has no more witnesses your honor.

Chapter 9: Joanna

Mark: The defense calls Mrs. Joanna Rush to the stand.

(Joanna steps to the stand and takes her oath)

Mark: Mrs. Rush, Did your husband abuse you repeatedly?

Joanna: Yes. He used to beat me with his bat after coming home drunk.

Mark: As Mr. Engleworth pointed out, do you cry for help when this happens.

Joanna: (tears) Yes I do. But nobody comes for help.

Mark: Mrs. Rush, on the night of the murder, was your husband beating you?

Joanna: Yes

Mark: Then what happened and I request you to address the court.

Joanna: (pointing to Mark) this man came to my rescue that night. Our door was open and he barged in to calm things down. Then my husband swung his bat at him. In an act of self defense Mr. Mark Sweeney here grabbed the bat and pulled it away from my husband’s control. Then he swung it once at my husband’s head to knock him out. (Now almost sobbing) But my husband did not stop. He lunged at this helpful man and tried to attack him with his fist. (Pause) (Wipes her tears)

Mark: Then what happened?

Joanna: Then Mr. Mark swung his bat again and my husband dropped dead.

Mark: What did you feel after that?

Joanna: I felt free. Mr. Sweeney had liberated me. (To the jury) I had an abusive husband and I was too afraid to complain to the police. He threatened to kill me one night because he felt I was not faithful to him.

Mark: Do you hold any grudge against me Mrs. Joanna?

DA Alan Harper: Objection. Manipulative, your honor.

Judge: Overruled. Answer the question Mrs. Joanna.

Joanna: No. On the contrary I was happy that Mr. Mark came to my rescue. (Facing the jury) I just hope there are people out there who can hear our cries. There are millions of us suffering…

Judge: Mrs. Rush, I understand your emotions but please keep your answers short.

Joanna: Yes, your honor.

Mark: Then what happened?

Joanna: Mr. Mark asked me if I was alright. Then he tried to call 911. But my phone was out of order. Then Mr. Sweeney asked me if there were any phone booths around. I then recalled that there was one at the corner of the 90th street. As he was leaving the house, I remembered that the phone booth was out of order. Mr. Sweeney then comforted me and told me that everything will be fine. He then left the house.

Mark: Have you ever seen me before, Mrs. Rush? And do address the court.

Joanna: No. Mr. Mark Sweeney came out of nowhere to save me.

Mark: Thank You, Mrs. Rush. Defense rests your honor.

Judge: Would the prosecution like to cross-examine the witness?

DA Alan Harper (nods his head and gets up): Quite a story, I must say Mrs. Rush. First, I would like to extend my congratulations to you for the receipt of your husband’s insurance claim. His death has made you a millionaire I guess.

Mark: Objection. Irrelevant and despicable.

Judge: Sustained.

DA Alan Harper: You say that your husband abused you physically. Why didn’t you register a complaint with the police?

Joanna: I tried. The police refused to file my report.

DA Alan Harper: Oh now you are making stories Mrs. Rush. I suppose you never went to the police.

Mark: Objection. Speculative.

Judge: Sustained.

DA Alan Harper: (with anger) how much did Mr. Sweeney pay you to tell this story Mrs. Rush?

Mark: Objection your honor.

DA Alan Harper (not listening to anything): You come up with a nonsensical false story and you try to defend Mr. Sweeney as your hero. How much did he pay you Mrs. Rush?

(The court is in mayhem. People start whispering simultaneously. There are hushed voices all over)

Mark: Objection your honor.

DA Alan Harper: Don’t you show your sorry face to me Mrs. Rush. The court knows you are lying. Tell me the truth. How much did he pay you?

(More hushed whispers)

Judge: Order, Order. Silence or I will throw all you journalists out.

Joanna: (with determination) Mr. Harper, you never got a beating from my husband. Do tell me when your spouse thrashes you. Then we will talk about the money Mr. Sweeney paid to save your ass.

(The court falls silent)

DA Alan Harper: The prosecution rests your honor.

Judge: Ok. I will have a recess. We shall proceed with your closings after the recess. The court is adjourned.

Chapter 10: Reason

All this time John never understood a word of what was going on. He gaped at the whole thing like a monkey in a bathing suit.

Mark: Well, Johnny that was swell, wasn’t it? Why are you looking at me like a chimp? Ha-ha.

John: How did you build up all this? How did you create this stuff? I never called the police.

Mark: Ha-ha. That my friend is great lawyering. Don’t you get it? That is why I am rich and you are poor. You need to plug the holes Johnny. But I must say the woman you are sleeping with has her brains in the right place. A meeting with her before today’s trial was amazing. You are too dumb to be even seeing her. Without her heart rendering testimony none of this would have happened. The DA must be banging his head on the desk by now. Hah! That sucker.

Flashback (meeting before the trial at Joanna’s residence)

Mark: May I come in Mrs. Rush. I am Marcus Sweeney, the supposed murderer of your husband.

Joanna: Yes. Please do. Sir, I am confused as to why you are standing for the trial? Why are you taking the blame for the murder?

Mark: Well let’s just say that I love Johnny. (Winking) Don’t you? But more than that, Johnny never had the balls to stand up for himself.

Joanna: I am sure you are in my house regarding the case?

Mark: Well yes. But I cannot help but admiring your body Mrs. Rush. It just makes my blood flow in several places

Joanna: (crossing her arms) May we please discuss the trial?

Mark: Sure. First, I heard you got your husband’s insurance claim. Was a hell of a lot of money? What are you going to do with it?

Joanna: I am planning to go to Venezuela to stay with my aunt.

Mark: Is that so? Okay. So Mrs. Rush, I am sure you must have heard about me in the papers. I am a very tough lawyer. I only look at important details. Like, was your phone out of order that night?

Joanna: No. I had severed my phone connection about 2 weeks before the murder.

Mark: Well then the case is open and shut. For your information, the nearest phone booth to your place in 90th street has been out of order for weeks too. Do you understand what I am trying to imply here?

Joanna: Yes. You are placing yourself in the crime scene and breaking all exit points for the prosecution.

Mark: So intelligent, and yet you sleep with my brother. Come to my place I will show you how the rich live and reproduce.

Joanna: Just tell me what I have to do in the witness stand. I just don’t want Johnny to go to prison.

Chapter 11: Closing statements

DA Alan Harper: Members of the jury. What we witnessed today was not only a trial for prosecuting a murder suspect but also a trial where killing a man was justified as an act of God. It has desensitized the issue of homicide. What kind of a world are we living in? A person who breaks into some home to kill a man and justifies it as an act of goodwill is not only committing a crime against humanity he is also bending the law at his whim. All you 12 people sitting here to pass a judgment on Mr. Mark William Sweeney very well know that this murder was not out of pity, but out of rage. Well the next time I kill someone I will just say that he or she was trying to kill me. Then I will walk across the street to buy an eyewitness. Does the defense think that we are foolish enough to buy his ill constructed story? Well, I am not convinced. Even if the 12 of you are, think about the way this crime was committed. It was cold blooded. The weapon was struck on the victim’s head at least 10 times. What is even more compelling is that Mr. Sweeney claims that he wore gloves to protect himself from the winter. Oh, come on now Mr. Sweeney that is not even close to an excuse. Mr. Sweeney took matters into his own hands. He planned the murder and made a deal with Mrs. Rush. He will refuse it. I mean, won’t we all refuse that we took a small down-payment to finish a convenient job. Murder for money. The wife plans redemption. She gets a top lawyer to iron out the legal wrinkles and goes home with a million dollars. Mr. Sweeney is a cold blooded murderer. We all know what the law dictates under such circumstances. Today, I ask the 12 of you to punish an act which has so blatantly been portrayed as noble. I ask you today to respect that law you uphold and punish this man.

Mark: My brother was 10 years old when he got into a fight. He was fighting a 15 year old large bully and was obviously losing heavily. Both of us were extremely small compared to the bully but in my heart I felt that the two of us could take him. I entered the fight and together we drove the bully away. Members of the jury, that day taught me a lesson. Stand up to injustice. I was moving through the 89th street that night to reach home early. People like Mr. Harper here, may feel that I wasn’t supposed to be there. But fate made me take that road that night. When I heard the cries of a helpless woman I knew that helping her was the right thing to do. In fact, even the police never did the right thing. They have never even considered coming to Mrs. Rush house to see the extent of abuse her husband was inflicting on her. Well, I was there to help her and so I did. A man died. Yes, a man died. But did he die because of my rage? No. As you all heard Mrs. Rush vouches that I did so to protect myself. If I could have knocked the man unconscious wouldn’t I have done that? I had no prior grudge against Mr. Rush and I am not gaining anything from his death, am I? Don’t you think it’s bizarre that I surrendered myself to the police? A planned murder? I did that because I wanted them to know that I did the right thing. Isn’t it bizarre that Mr. Harper comes up with an excellent urban legend to shame an abused, domestic lady? I say he should be a screenwriter. What a plot, what suspense.

I just wanted to help this innocent lady. How dare the prosecution ask me to not stand for what is right. If a man dies doing the wrong thing I say let him die. If a man is tried for doing the right thing, we all know that something somewhere is very, very wrong. Even if you feel that I did the wrong thing I still believe in what I did. Hell, send me to the electric chair. Even if you let me go free and I see someone in distress I will try and help that person. If the bad guy dies during the struggle I would say, so be it. Mr. Harper feels that I am making an excuse for wearing gloves that night. How low can you stoop Mr. Harper, to convict an innocent man? Please tell the court that our army is full of murderers. Why should they defend our country? They are killing human beings, they should fry in hell. They should be cut into pieces and thrown to the dogs. Oh, how does it matter that the enemy wants us dead? We should never kill. Its inhuman, its wrong to save innocent lives, isn’t that what you think Mr. Harper.

Mr. Harper raised the question of morality here. Let me ask him, how moral is it to beat your wife? We stand here today mourning over a person who abused his wife. How noble is that? I still think the world needs to understand the difference between right and wrong as clearly Mr. Harper, an expert practitioner of this profession, feels that saving an innocent, harried and abused person is still immoral if the oppressor is killed. That is all what matters to him. The death of a violent, abusive, drunk husband, who is not a man enough to keep his wife safe. What a pity. What a pity. Save the oppressor. Let the innocent die in pain. She signed up for it. I am afraid to live in this world of violence where a victim is painted as a conspirator. Where a good deed is painted as a convenient job. I don’t want to live in this world anymore. Please do Mr. Harper a favor. Give him what he wants. Let the victims suffer. Let the rapists rape your daughters. You want to stop them? No. Mr. Harper said you cannot kill an oppressor. He is a human too. Why don’t I offer myself for rape? Please rape me. Kill me. I will not complain. Because I cannot complain can I? Because even after you rape me my oppressor should be let free. He was just having fun. Yes, Mr. Harper. Is this the world you want us to live in? Is this the world?

(Silence as Mark returns to his seat)

Judge: Members of the jury will now be excused to confirm the verdict. Till that time, the court is adjourned.

(In the defendant’s chamber)

Mark: (jubilant) How was I?

John: You lied about our childhood. I was the one who got into the fight to save you. How manipulative can you be?

Mark: Hey, Hey, hey, lets not forget who is on trial here. I took the blame for your doings Johnny boy. If we are to lose today I am going to have my ass fried on a chair.

John: You haven’t done me any favor here. You wanted to be the accused.

Mark: Yes. I wanted to be in jail for your crime. I don’t see where I have become less caring or less brotherly.

Flashback (on the night of the murder 11:10 PM)

John nervously dials a number in a phone booth. His hands are trembling. More than anything he was disgusted with himself as he was calling the one person he hated the most.

Mark: Hello? Who is this? Don’t you know the time mister?

John: Marky, it’s me.

Mark: Oh, Johnny my whining brother. What happened? Let me guess. You are broke and you want money. Well, darling you know I don’t give a shi…

John: (interrupting) Marky, I committed a murder.

Mark: hmmm. That is interesting. Whom did you whack? I hope a homeless guy.

John: I didn’t do it on purpose Marky. You know this married woman I was involved with. I bludgeoned her husband. I was not in my senses Marky. Please get me out of this shit.

(A brief silence looms over the phone)

Mark: So you killed a married man? Hmm. Do one thing. Don’t go to the police. Tell me exactly what happened and I shall do the necessary.

John told him the whole account leaving no detail behind. As the conversation was nearing its end Mark had a distinct smile on his face.

Mark: Kiddo. Go to your home and sleep tight. Your brother Marky has everything under his control.

The next day Mark went to the police station assuming the role of a murderer and narrated all the details to the police chief. John never knew that his brother would do something like this. When John got the news of his brother’s arrest, his heart skipped a beat. Was Marky sacrificing himself for me? Why is he doing this?

Chapter 12: the verdict

Judge: Madam Foreperson, Has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?

Madam Foreperson: We have your honor.

Judge: What say you?

Madam Foreperson: In the case of Mr. Marcus William Sweeney vs. the state of Massachusetts, we find the defendant Mr. Marcus William Sweeney, under the charge of murder in the first degree “NOT GUILTY”.

Judge: The court is adjourned. I thank the jury for their services.

Chapter 13: The last conversation

(John is driving the car and Mark is sitting beside him)

Mark: So Johnny. What did you learn today?

John: Try to act over smart and people will love you.

Mark: Shut your beak up. This is what you give me for saving your ass?

John: I didn’t understand one thing Marky. Why did you take the case? In fact why did you implicate yourself?

Mark: Oh Johnny, Johnny boy. You never understand, do you? This is what makes me the best lawyer in town. The true test of a lawyer is when he is asked to defend himself for a crime he has committed. I never had an opportunity like this. The fun, the racing adrenaline, it makes me swoon with amazement. Now I am being hailed as a hero as well. More than that, it was the excitement. To find yourself fighting death against all odds, even after you confess to having committed the crime is breathtaking. My record as a lawyer still stands to be envied. This is my pinnacle. No lawyer could have achieved this. A half breed mongrel like you could never understand this.

John: Well at least, Joanna is happy.

Mark: Ha-ha-ha-ha. Joanna. I still cannot believe that you are in love with a much smarter woman than yourself. You know Johnny that is your problem. You think that whore is a solution to all your failures. Do you really think she loves you? Do you really think she was beaten by her husband? I saw her scars that day. They were 3 years old. Actually, a moron like you could never observe such things.

John: You can call me names Marky, but don’t you dare speak about Joanna like that.

Mark: I will speak about her as I like. That fucking whore nails four or five people at the same time and still she gets a stupid fuck up like you to do her dirty job.

John: (getting angry) I am warning you Marky. Don’t spe…

Mark: Oooh. I am scared now. Who are you gonna call now? Mommy? You know why the whore is going to Venezuela, you numb nut. That is because the United States has no extradition treaty with Venezuela. And you think nailing her every night makes you her soul mate. She is worse than a bitch. But numb nuts like you fall for nymphs like that.

John: (angrily) Mark. Stop talking like that. Or else…

Mark: Or else what. You are going to sell that whore in a market? Well she must have been sold a million times. Probably that is what she does for a living. That fucking whore really got a good deal out of you. How many blowjobs did you get from that slut? Ten? Isn’t that the number of times you swung your bat at poor Mr. Rush.

John: Mark. Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up.

Mark: You noisy swine. You get enraged for a whore. All she does is fuck with many fools like you. Yeah, she is damn smart. The bitch made you believe that you are in love. That is no surprise since a fucking dunce like you can fall for a fly giving you a lap dance. You know what love is? Why don’t you crawl up to mommy and suck on her boobs. That is love for you, you imbecile. Anyway, at least Joanna would stop supplying milk for a week. That bitch may even open a whore shop for stupid fucking idiots like you.

(John loses himself and draws Mark’s gun from the glove compartment and shoots Mark in the head. The car skids to a stop. Johnny comes out of the car and drags his brother’s dead body on the empty road.)

John: There is your love. (Shoots another bullet at his head). You feel my brotherly love now Marky, you piece of shit (he empties 4 bullets in Mark’s brain but restrains himself from shooting the last bullet).

(After some time John is unable to stand on his feet and he sinks to the ground with remorse and anger. He weeps by his brother’s body.)

John: (with a choked throat) Why Marky, Why. Why couldn’t you just shut up? Why?

Chapter 14: Venezuela

John drives past Joanna’s house and suddenly stops the car. He must see her. They are leaving tonight for Venezuela. He has to take her in his arms. Oh, how he longed to see her. How much this moment had cost him? All he wanted now was a glimpse of the lovely look on her face.

(As he entered the apartment he called out for Joanna. Suddenly Joanna started shrieking and ran from her bedroom naked to embrace John.)

Joanna: Help me Johnny. Help me. This man is trying to rape me.

John: Who?

An old man: Hey. Who the fuck is this?

(John raises the gun and fires a bullet into the man’s head. The old fellow falls in an instant.)

John: (throws away the empty gun) Baby, Who is this fellow? How did he get in here? Come quick pack your bags. We have a flight to catch.

(As he turns to pack his bags, he finds the chief of police uniform on the floor along with the nameplate and his badge.)

John: (startled) Honey, This old man was the chief of police?

(Then another deadly realization dawns upon him.)

John: Joanna, Why didn’t you shout for help before I entered your apartment?

(As he turns around he finds Joanna holding the chief’s gun against his temple.)

Joanna: Your brother was right, you piece of shit. You really are the dumbest, aren’t you? Why did you even come here?

John: But baby, we have to catch the flight. I love you.

Joanna: What didn’t you understand about me? I do this all the time. Every year, a slain husband makes a posthumous payment for my vacation. You were just the means Johnny. You are cute, but you ain’t the brightest.

John: What are you talking about? I love you baby.

Joanna: Keep your love in your pocket, you idiot. I have had many lovers. May their souls rest in peace.

John: Baby, I love you. Why are you doing this? I love you baby.

Joanna: Yeah, and I loved your shoes Johnny. But I have only one ticket.

(And then she pulls the trigger.)

By

R. Lakshminarayan

Disclaimer: The events and characters in the story are fictitious. Some lines used in the story may not be an accurate representation of actual legal arguments. The author does not vouch for the exact sections in the law quoted above. All matters regarding legal issues cannot be referenced to this story as a legal source.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Cyanide and Happiness, a daily webcomic
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

Announcement 2

JabberWacky suggested that we put some comic strips on our blog. So I am posting one above. Ill ask all d cops to comment on this. If this is to become a regular feature on copslair, lets have a vote. Nada u can use as many expletives as u want if u dont like it, hell..., even if u like it.

Friday, August 7, 2009

live like a tornado..

spin a roulette,dance a ballet
run off a cliff,swim up a stream
not to sleep,wake up and dream
turn on the radio,make a video
put it on net,make others fret
hear all the shit,take a break
on the road,get hit and freak
play a game,fire and snow
wanna run but no where to go
take a blow,walk lil slow
bite the dust,go bust
make love to a stranger
wear a mask for the mirror
gate crash a party,screw the hottie
get tharshed,talk trash
pick up a brawl,but still stand tall
back begins to ache,gave more than you can take
jumble the equation,forget the question
mess the situation,gotta escape
start the motor,rumble the engine
use a vein,dope the needle
juss a drop,over the top
hear the thunder,make a blunder
into the night,wrong and right
mere people,lost outta sight
blow the building,razed to ground
buy a yatch,count the stars
hatch a plot,take a shot
getaway in a car,to the nearest bar
be a czar.....

flash your libido
show some bravado
live like a tornado..
live like a tornado..


flash your libido
show some bravado
live like a tornado..
live like a tornado..



Thursday, July 23, 2009

Hum Drum

A lot has been happening in my end of the world although I can’t safely say that I have been chronicling it all between late stays at the lab and playing musical rooms during my internship. Nevertheless, I am a strong believer that nocturnal vigilance while a certain I’m-a-cranky-baby-i-need-you-attention-now experiment’s lusty beeps that make you wanna take a sledgehammer to it, could be turned into productive bitch-biting session against all that is wrong with the world and all that could be right.
1. I’m Ogay, you okay? – Last month came as a landmark victory for all the homo/bi/trans sexuals in India, when the Delhi HC decided to amend article 377, making being gay okay! While all the newspapers across the nation churned full front page pictures of homos playing tonsil hockey like there were no tomorrow, the rest of the laity lapped up sob-stories of Celina Jetly’s homo boy-frand and trans make up man (err person?). Closet gays all across the world of fashion and sundry came out to exclaim their eternal love in the open, as your mummy-papa curled up their noses in distaste. During all of this the political parties cry ‘not fair!’ and Lalu Prasad issues sound bytes about how homosexuality “isn’t a part of our culture” and “we must not ape the western countries”, much unaware that Maharajahs getting blow-jobs from boy-servants is a well chronicled fact (or so D tells me , citations needed of course) while a certain eye-flinching caricature of a god man claims that these “diseased” people need to do pranayam to get better (someone please fix that other eye for him, please!). Amidst all of this you are left wondering how vote-bank politics and media footage vultures won’t leave this one million-strong community alone, being hell-bent on criminalizing them for vested interests while hardly knowing much about it at all. I say Peace Ahoy! We could very much do without the clamor against once taking a step towards emancipation of the wronged. If you’re so interested try badgering the government as to why that 26/11 asshole still languishes in AC jails when he should’ve been dispensed with long ago. That might get you more mileage. So thanks, but no thanks.

2. Rape raps- This summer sure has been a bizarre one. You wouldn’t normally get up one morning reading about rape charges against a once-there-now-where? Actor by none other than his very own underage maid! While you’re still dismissing it as an attention stunt, there is news of teary biwis holding press conferences in support and oily public prosecutors getting their 15 seconds of news feed, major news channels interrupt the prime minister’s foreign visit story with “Breaking News” of how the DNA samples of the actor and the swatches from the maid matched! Oh boy, you grumble, of all the silicon-ous women he could have slept with he chose to have “consensual” sex with his bai! Ugh! Dude couldn’t have expected you to make better career choices, but maybe a better choice of bedmates. Ew. Whatever.

3. Fake-book- Rants and raves against Face-book wouldn’t be enough. I’m sure the day wouldn’t be far when one of us decides to sue them for “extreme mental harassment”. Garbage can full of “news” each day on your home page about which fruit/drink/song/condom flavour/previous life nationality represents the various turds you happen to know along the passage of life. Ten to the power a couple million requests to join “mafia wars”, “be my pet” (sounds so predatory), and whatnot while your “friends” poke and throw at each other vampires, baboons, Sheila Dikshit and SS Umare.
In a day and age, when Facebook rules your entire social life and dictates What “type of fungus will thrive in your pubes/ your nasal booger says about you/psychopathic tendencies your child will inherit from you?” and splashes intimate details of your life all over on your ex-lover’s, bosses’, round the corner ganne-wala’s , sexually abusive uncle’s, former-arsonist-now-friend’s walls, I most vehemently implore you to quit quizzing and get a life to further marital harmony, the future of our children,world health, fight against poverty, AIDS, commercialism, global warming , recession etc. Whatever it takes. Thank you.

4. Well the last one doesn’t involve haranguing at all, but much about felicitating Fedex’s reinstatement as the undisputed Lord of all that he surveyed and A-Rod’s performance at the W-finals. Amidst chocolate cravings and down-pour escapings, you felt so lucky to have bustled in to a coffee boutique and have caught the match :D. As a certain Mr. Chops said to me later that evening, “Nothing beats experiencing history live”, I couldn’t agree with him more.
To Roger, may your tribe of gleaming silverware thrive and to you Andy I can only quote Captain Obvious and say "better luck next time".

As they say that no blog is complete without its entry full of complaints and untamed cribs (even if they don’t, I just did), and so this is mine. In the end to quote Oscar Wilde, “This is kick ass”. Have a nice day.

Poet in a one man band

I’m a poet in a one man band,

I sing my rhymes all along the Strand,

With my fedora and guitar I play on the way,

They tell me I’m not as bad as Phoebe Buffay,


Don’t scare me with wars and soaring rates,

I tell ya I don’t need no band mates,

When the sun is bright and tune not trite,

I know I’ll get that perfect song so right,


When they get sick of the noise and balderdash,

All the junk they play at the college bash,

That’s when they come running to the bard,

And ask me to sing a limerick not so hard,


I’m just a poet in a one man band,

I sing my whims all across the land,

With my fedora and guitar I play on the way,

They clap to my songs and dance and sway,


I’m no Avril Lavigne with videos on mtv,

Nor am I struggling to get a break hopefully,

I just sit on my corner stone away from dog pee,

Singing my songs from last night’s binging spree,


When a londoner tosses me a pence,

I say sir please take this back, no offense,

I don’t play for the money or the fame,

Just as free booting off you ain’t my aim,


Coz I’m a poet in a one man band,

Don’t sell my music to you packaged or canned,

With my fedora and guitar I play on the way,

Entertaining you with my poems night and day…

McJack's McMurder

Rife speculation has spread as to what was the cause of the death of the greatest pop singer in the history of our times; a SHOCKING REVELATION has finally come forward! Michael Jackson’s Body guard who worked with him for 17 years from 86 to 2003 has finally stepped up to tell the world the REAL TRUTH about the life and death of the beleaugured star. A truth so stunning that it leaves you breathless and filled with anger at the injustice of it all. Finally disclosed and brought forward to the public, because we all deserve to know the OTHER SIDE OF MICHAEL JACKSON’S LIFE.

Jackson’s former body guard who spent most of his day at close quarters with the entertainer describes him as “a very quiet and docile person” in reality. Even though Michael was generally nice to his personal staff, there were numerous odd incidents that occurred frequently. Jackson’s former employee is on record saying that the star was often reported missing from his washroom in his Neverland estate house. “He would go in for hours and not come out. We would panic and break open the door to his bathroom only to find him missing.” Endless searches in the midst of the night would find the superstar in deserted parts of the grounds, the gazebo and once even on the roof. “He was stripped naked with strange flourescent tattoos glowing all over his body. We checked his heart beat it was barely there, and a huge sooty black ring surrounded his body.” These sojourns would mostly take place on new moon nights.

Apparently, these instances are surprisingly similar to reported incidents of people who are known to have had contact with the extra-terrestrial. Some of the examples here are of perhaps the most influential people on the planet in their times. The list is considerably long comprising of historical figures like Rasputin and King Henry the VII, and pioneers of pop culture like Kevin (of Backstreet Boys fame), Jimi Hendrix, and Reese Witherspoon. (The Queen is also rumored to be a part of this elite list).Most persons who claim to have ever witnessed or been in communication with the outlandish say that a heart beat of almost 10 beats per minute was often experienced as the body, and more importantly, the brain go in to deep repose after the meeting. The tattoos although have so far been inexplicable.

So does that mean our very own Wacko-Jacko was in correspondence with the galactic-intelligence? While such deduction would seem absurd, but now a shocking new video has come forward with rare backstage footage of the King of pop’s History concert held in Denver. The grainy video, the link to which shall soon be updated, shows fan Zack Spud, 21 then, sneak past the body guards and shoot the star in his dressing room from a slightly open door. Jackson is seen in this footage lying down on the floor convulsing and wrinkled with the same illuminating imprints and a black ring, while the fish in the near by tank seem to float lifelessly. “The reason why I never came forward with this was because the guard found me eventually and smashed my camera. Only very recently I could recover the print, and now after his death it seems only right that people should know about this.”

Martin Bashir, who is well known to have documented Jackson’s life, says that he always felt that “there was something not right with Michael; I would often find his finger nails full of soot, when he would at an average wash his hands 30 times in a day! Back then I was told about this being his compulsive disorder, but it never explained the soot.” When asked if he had ever been with the star on a new moon night? He said, “I was categorically refused dates on some days of the month even when Michael would be doing nothing but staying at home.” Was this because the star did not want anyone to see him in that condition, especially a snooping scribe? Michael knew that if Bashir included this in his documentary it would a catastrophe, so he conveniently chose dates around the new moon night to avoid him. Sometimes he would give an excuse, others he chose to blatantly refuse any reason.

Eccentricities of the legend have been well recorded. His battle with child pornography, cases of molestation and a debt running into millions have all been well known but nothing has ever held as much fascination or controversy as his apparent color change and subsequent facial surgeries. Jackson was diagnosed with vitiligo in the mid 80s, but all of us know that the disease affects the skin in patches of white. But Jackson on the other hand never exhibited it, his skin lightened over time, but smoothly. “He never showed any patchiness or disfigurement. But that was only because his skin lightened artificially, by killing the melanin producing cells in his body.”Says his former body guard. There were always rumors about this doing the rounds even then, but what came as more of astonishment was why Jackson did it. “Many people thought he was doing it because he was ashamed of his black skin. But when I learned the truth it shocked me to my core. It was apparently a side effect of a secret project he was working on with the US government.

Sources with access to the secret government archives indeed confirm the existence of a black project called Project Firefly. Founded in 1986 the project was funded with the view of communication between the US govt. agencies and extra-terrestrial intelligence. The US government in 1980, after the success of the hit single “Thriller”, contacted Jackson on suspicion that he was the last of a Somalian tribe. This tribe now long vanished, was believed to have supernatural powers to contact the Outer –life forms. While his siblings deny it, it is only because they are under oath to the government. Apparently the Jackson family is given a blanket by the homeland security of category Q, which is only reserved for the Top Secret. Why is the Jackson family provided with Top Secret security? Category Q security for the family of a star, whose fame was nothing but a lore of a bygone era? What threats were potent enough to trigger the government into giving the family such a comprehensive cover?

All the answers lie in the annals of restricted archives of the US govt. On being hunted down, a former agent under this project agreed to shed some light on project Firefly. “Back in the early 80s, of what was a confusing time for the Cold War countries; efforts were already being made to contact the extra-terrestrial, l, to get ahead of the Soviet, with no significant success. Then one day someone found about this Somalian tribe and how the Jackson family was remotely but definitely a part of them. But According to the legend only a male member born on a new moon night would be able to evoke any response from the ‘others’. Which is when enquiries were made into the entire clan and much to everyone’s surprise Michael fit the bill perfectly. Later we also found out how Michael was already practicing it without anyone’s notice.” Former CIA director William Casey’s notice was brought to this but it took nearly 3 more years for clearance and funding of Project Firefly. Once MJ was convinced to be a part of this project, immediately a new spate of experiments was started in a secret location west of Albuquerque, New Mexico. Often side effects of these experiments would include exposure to chemicals and intense radiation. “They had not been able to control Michael’s exposure to the radiation. It was only later that they discovered that his skin cell’s had mutated under the effect. And his cells themselves started killing the melanin.” To the world it was announced that the icon had been diagnosed with vitiligo, but only the govt knew the truth. “It was a stressful time for everyone. Michael was enraged and had wanted to leave the project. But somehow he was convinced not to abandon.” He did not, but the project definitely slowed down.

In the years that followed, Michael dealt with his “disease” in full public spectacle and went on to produce smash hits one after the other. In the year of 1993, Jackson was accused of sexual abuse by Evan Chandler on behalf of his son, Jordan Chandler, 13. Evan is on record saying to the media "If I go through with this, I win big-time. There's no way I lose. I will get everything I want and they will be destroyed forever...Michael's career will be over" The CIA panicked about this charge against the star and went on to make rectifications with fake searches of his Neverland ranch, which included a “strip search” that became crucial validation in the court, even forcing sister La Toya Jackson to retract comments about his paedophilia. Finally the matter was resolved out of court with Jackson paying $22 Million to Chandler.

By the end of the 90s Jackson’s career was flagging. He had not produced a new album in 5 years. Finally in 2001 his new album, Invincible was launched only to be panned by critics and shot down by fans. It was a message for the King that his career was not moving anywhere. Mounting debts, and new charges against him, finally forced the star to return to project Firefly. Most associates of Jackson admit that the Entertainer’s life since the millennium has been mostly unknown to them as to the general public.

Once Michael joined the project Firefly, operation went on with new vigor. In 2002, Jackson’s third child, Prince Michael II was born. The mother of the child was not made known to the world. Former wife Debbie refused to acknowledge the child as her’s and the world was left in askance as to who the real mother was. A former Scientist who was involved in most of the experiments finally revealed that Prince Michael II actually “had no mother. In reality his father only was his mother. We had not lied to the world.” Meaning that Prince II was nothing but a clone of Jackson himself. “There were general worries that Michael’s declining health would stop all future operations of the project, so a directive was given to replicate Michael so that the baby was born on a full moon night, retaining the abilities of his father.” Jackson’s mounting financial worries forced him to agree to this plan, and the government in return promised to keep all his legal issues and debts at bay.

Finally in 2005 driven by his personal demons and psychological traumas, Jackson broke away from the Operation, and sought haven in Bahrain and turned to seek refuge in Islam, even changing his name to Mikhail. The government retaliated by forcing him off the US soil and unleashing his creditors on him, even putting up his Neverland estate on sale.

His apparent closeness to King Hamad Khalifa and his loco disposition that loosened his tongue, strongly threatened the secrecy of this project, and made the agency very wary of the star and his state. It was not until in late 2008 when the singer, threatened the government to come in to the open about its clandestine operations in return for settling his debts and annexation of his estate.

Not believing Jackson to keep his end of the bargain, a plan was hatched to eliminate this potent threat to the agency. “Michael’s credibility was at an all time low. His threatening to reveal all was the final straw. The agency had no more use for him, since they already had Prince Michael. He was nothing but a dangerous liability.” Says a former CIA operative.

On June 25, 2009, Jackson collapsed at his rented mansion in the Los Angeles. Pending confirmation from toxicology reports, he was allegedly administered Demerol shortly before he stopped breathing. Attempts at resuscitating him by his personal physician were unsuccessful.

How the government managed to administer a lethal dosage to him is unknown. Some believe that a poison, Thrombophil, derived from a yellow weed that grows in Carribean was used to render him. It is odorless, tasteless, and colorless. It is almost immediately lethal, producing symptoms resembling those of heart disease. In small doses it can be used as a stimulant. It leaves no toxic trail behind. This poison was oft used during the days of the Cold War to eliminate targets.

What ever maybe the cause, but it would seem that the greatest musical icon of our living memories died a cold death at the hands of the govt and the agency that have long known to be masters at the game of secrecy and treachery. And while the Govt has escaped unscathed, its Pandora’s Box still untouched, a huge price was paid for it. A star, whose light faded just a few days before million of his fans were going to watch him in 50 concerts in the O2 arena. Michael, despite all of his controversies shall be remembered as the moon raker who “moonwalked” into our hearts. RIP.

Monday, July 20, 2009

RENAISSANCE MAN

As far as I can remember, I always wanted to be a thief. The only problem was that I did not know where to start. It always intrigued me in an essential kind of a way. As for other reasons, my father was a petty thief, which pretty much made me a thief by default. Till age seven, I did not know what he did for a living. There were always unanswered questions in my mind. Why did my dad stay away in the nights? Why did he disappear for months and then come back only to disappear after some more time? I still remember the day when I found out that he was a thief. The police dragged him from our home to the police van as I stood there watching. To be honest, I had never been more proud of my dad. For one thing, now I at least knew what he did and I admired it. That was my life changing moment, right there. I don’t know why people scoff at thieves. It takes courage to steal. When you know that society does not accept what you are doing and that on being caught, you can either be pounded or thrown in the jail, you need to have a heart of steel to do that. I just love to steal. Screw your norms and values. I steal not because I need to, it’s because I want to. How many ‘civilized’ people can do that? My guess is not one of them. They are too busy living their mundane lives to realize the thrill, the excitement and the satisfaction that a successful act of theft gives. They just don’t have what it takes. They are too busy labeling things as right or wrong. Speaking of right and wrong, how was theft ever labeled an illegal act, I would never know. Rich guys criminalized theft as, well, they are the people one steals from. I mean you would not enter a laborer’s house to steal. What is there to steal? Nothing. That’s what rich people don’t get. Stealing is the most egalitarian act in the world. Isn’t that what our forefathers wanted? Equal distribution of wealth has always been the pipedream which never materialized. The reason behind that is that there are more rich people in the world that there are thieves. Still they are the ones who live in fear, ironic !!

Lately, though, there have been some changes. The thrill and the challenge associated with thefts seems to be fading away. People don’t just seem to care about thefts anymore. While Mr. Srivastava is nailing some student of his, you can just get in the house, pick up whatever you want and walk away, like a sale in some supermarket. While those rich college kids are boozing in the bar, you can just walk their bikes away and still not get caught. What’s the fun in that? It seems like I am not doing anything of consequence now. Is theft not fashionable as a ‘crime’ anymore? It used to be when the girls in my locality used to drool over every piece of jewellery I got them, now they are tired of it. My life seems to have suddenly lost purpose. I still stand by the egalitarian thing but if it is not exciting, it is a duty, not a passion. How can I justify my acts if I don’t make a goddamn difference anymore. The problem is that rich have gotten too rich too care about some minor thefts. There has to be some other way to do something important.

I woke up with this thought in my mind. Freshened up and got out of the room. People never recognize that I am a thief. If one is dressed well enough, he is automatically thought to belong to the middle class. If, on the other hand, one is shabbily dressed, people will think of him as some laborer or a beggar. They just don’t seem to think that I could be a thief. For them, their world is always perfect, just as they want it to be. That is called paranoia. I had a tea at a road side stall and went to the railway station to catch the local train. I sat there on the bench on the platform, waiting for the next local. A well suited man, with what seemed to be an expensive briefcase came and sat beside me. Here it was, the great leveler of our times. The bench on the platform where a thief and some rich guy shared space!! He lit a cigarette. Didn’t he know you are not supposed to smoke in a railway station? Or was he that rich?

Stranger(extending the packet to me): Do you want one?

Me: No, I don’t smoke.

Stranger(with a smile): A thief who does not smoke. You are very choosy when it comes to selecting vices my friend.

My heart almost stopped. How did he know I was a thief? Was he with the police? I looked around to check if there were any policemen. There were none.

Me: Who are you?

Stranger: Don’t worry. I have better things to do than get a petty thief like you caught.

Should I be relieved or feel insulted?

Me: I don’t get caught. I have never been caught.

Stanger: That’s because you don’t matter.

Me: How do you know I am a thief?

Stranger: That does not matter either.

Me: Who are you to insult me?

Stranger: These are facts you would better face. Your thefts, for whatever reason you do that, have stopped impacting the society. As far as I know, you consider your work to be of prime importance. I ask you, whom are you actually affecting? Look at these people. You don’t have an impact on anyone of them.

Me: Are you saying what I do is useless?

Stranger: Pretty much.

A local train stopped and went away. I could not board it. I had to deal with that moron first.

Me: What I do does have significance. I don’t steal for idiotic reasons. Don’t take me for just another thief. I am good at what I do and I consider it to be necessary

Stranger(looked directly at me): What are you, Robinhood? That’s where your line of thought goes haywire. Look at those guys.

Some men, all dressed in shirts and formal trousers hurriedly boarded a train.

Stranger: See them. How do your thefts ever concern them? What do you think they lack?

He seemed to be talking in puzzles.

Me: I don’t know.

Stranger: Rich form a very small minority, my friend. You have got to look at the larger picture.

Suddenly a train came and stopped right in front of us. Clouds seemed to be gathering around the sun. All I could think was how the sun would soon disappear and how that was a good thing or a bad one. The stranger got up to board the train.

Me: Wait. You were saying something.

Stranger: Yeah. Take my card. Call me. We will talk again. Right now I have to go.

He picked up the briefcase and started walking.

Me: What do you do?

The clouds had covered the sun now. Was it going to rain, or would lightening strike right where I stood. The stranger stopped in his way, turned back and came to me. With no remorse or fear in his eyes, he murmured.

Stranger: I murder people.

With that he was gone. I stood there with the card in my hand. All it had was a phone number. No Name. No address.

I came back to the room in the night. The day had been a nightmare. I had not been able to get my thoughts together. All I had after the day was the card that man gave me. I decided to call him in the morning.

The phone rang for sometime before he picked it up.

Stranger: Come over. The only red house on Nayak steet.

And he hung up!! So I decided to visit him.

The house was situated in probably the most crowded area in the entire locality. Still, it looked dilapidated, as if it had not been used in years. I knocked on the door. It was already open, I went in. The place looked like it was ready to crumble any moment. It smelled of rats and the only thing that signaled any human inhabitation was a pack of cigarettes and a lighter placed on a table. A voice interrupted my analysis of the place.

Stranger: You are here. Sit.

I pulled out a chair which creaked like it was loose in a hundred places. He came, lighted a cigarette and stood in front of me.

Stranger: So why are you here?

Me: You called me.

Stranger(with a wicked smile): I didn’t call you. You called me. You could have chosen not to call me but you did. May I assume that you have recognized the futility of your work and are ready to look beyond?

Me: I told you. I have fun doing what I do. I am not complaining.

Stranger: You are not. Give it some time and you will. Do you remember the people I showed you on the platform? The neatly dressed guys.

Me: Ya I do.

Stranger: The problem with your solution is that it is myopic. You have been a thief for so long now that you seem to think of the world in black and white. The rich and the poor, but what about the other guys?

Me: What other guys?

Stranger: The lost.

Me: Who?

Stranger: People who aspire to be rich and live in the fear of being poor. The guys who are neither here nor there. Those who are so messed up with the trivial that they can’t see the bigger picture. The unchallenged. The lost.

Me(a little apprehensive): So what is it that you intend?

Stranger: I try to wake them up out of their deep slumber. I try to challenge them to prove to themselves that they can still face life. Those people you saw the other day were all white collar employees. They are so consumed with the deadlines, targets and revenues of their employers that they have forgotten about more important things.

He finished the cigarette and then looked me in the eye.

Stranger: What I am saying is that you try to catch fish for people, I make them learn the art of fishing.

I remembered what he had said at the railway station about murdering people. Sure he was joking back then. I felt a sudden chill but decided to ask him anyway.

Me: How do you do all that exactly?

Stranger: Like I told you. I kill people.

The clouds were gathering. It could have rained any moment and burnt everything that existed.

Me: Is this some kind of a joke? What has murder got to do with the bright side of anything?

Stranger: It opens doors to the bright side.

He didn’t seem like a guy who would go on a killing spree. He looked like a man with a plan. What it was, however, was beyond me at that point.

Stranger: There are people who kill politicians, leaders, movie stars for no reason at all. You see, I am not interested in that sort of stuff.

Me: What do you mean?

Stranger: What I mean is you have got to ask the right questions. You see all these criminals these days, the so called criminals. They don’t excite me. What’s the point of killing someone like a politician or an actor who is so easily replaceable?

I felt darkness surrounding me. The sinister clouds swallowed the sun and the angels stopped dancing. He was almost whispering now, that’s all he needed to do.

Stranger: If you want to make an impact, you have to strike where it has the maximum effect. Kill the only teachers in a municipal school or the only guy who wants to run an old age home in the worst suburb of the city. These people, these so called nobodies are so much harder to replace than a filthy politician. Let people suffer. Let them realize the true worth of such people.

Me: How does that accomplish anything?

He came near. I could feel his breath on my nose. His eyes were still unflinching, not a trace of remorse in them.

Stranger: It is easy to fool yourself by believing that by stealing from the rich you have become this Messiah, who, by the way, wastes all this money on whores and useless fucks. You know that’s bullshit. It’s not about egalitarianism with respect to money, anymore. My vision of a perfect world is where people have to face challenges and overcome them. People are fooled into a false sense of security by giving them exactly what they need exactly when they need it. Remove the pillars of society, and you know whom I consider to be the pillars, then people have a challenge at their hands. Let them find alternatives, replacements, solutions to problems they never expect to face. Lets make them learn how to fish. And yeah, you have always wanted excitement, haven’t you? You will get it.

The last doors to fresh air had closed. He made perfect sense. For the first time, I had felt a sense of oneness, a sense of identity with someone. He was now my friend.

Me: What do we do then?

Friend: Kill Mr Srivastava for a start. So many girls in his class get banged by him to pass. As long as he is there, they know all they need to pass is get fucked. Once he is gone, the useless whores will actually have to study.

You had to give it to him. However ridiculous it may have sounded, but he had a plan. I was no longer a thief. I was going to be the man who challenged the world.

Friend: We’ll meet on Sunday. I want to be there to see you reborn.

He was there as he had promised. The first touch of a gun felt as chilling as the thought of killing someone but soon it pervaded my sense of identity. The gun was no longer a foreign object. I had been reborn and reborn with a gun. Through the opening in the wall, a shot was fired and there lay the perverted teacher, dead. The girl beside him squealed like a monkey. Was it the horror of witnessing death or the disappointment of missing a fuck? Whatever it was, she, as my friend said, now had a challenge. She would have to go back and study, prove her worth on paper and not on the bed.

This was it. Take away the luxury of mindless dependence and people lost it. It was the system that ran their lives. Take away the government and these civilized people won’t know where to get their next meal from. This culture of short-sightedness, dependence and taking everything for granted had to be removed. In the days to come, we killed another school teacher, the guy who ran the only medical shop in the whole locality and many more. Find more teachers, learn how to get medicines in case the only guy you know in the field of medicine dies. Cmon, grow up. The sun had set. The vampires were out in the open. Chaos pervaded the city. The sudden deaths had made front page news. Finally there was a recognition of the threat that faced the masses. As the blood escaped the dead bodies, we basked in the glory of our accomplishments.

Friend: Look at all that stupid talk they do. Amidst all this, people are still happy to appear on TV and talk nonsense. It would take sometime to get them working my friend.

Me(with a mock smile): Losers. All they can do is jump up and down in front of the camera. Most of them will go back and hump their wives like nothing ever happened. They need to learn a lesson. They need to wake up.

Friend: Exactly. They seem to have come out of their shells, atleast. That’s some progress. And that’s why our next mission is going to be a big one.

Me: What’s the next mission?

Friend: Remember the white collar guys I showed you. It is time to shatter their dream world. Our forefathers conceived a country full of self dependent people who would create the future of a nation with their enterprise and skill. That dream is long lost, what we have are thousands of young people wasting away their lives in 4x8 cubicles. These assholes have traded their lives for a few thousand and air conditioned rooms. They go through their lives unchallenged, happy with being slaves to employers who don’t even know their first names.

What was he hinting at? I didn’t know. But in him, I trusted.

Friend: Listen up carefully. This time we strike at the heart of this industry which has turned an entire generation into mindless, useless zombies. We blow up the headquarters of DevDomain. The biggest IT organization in the country.

The sun had died and the clouds poured acid. The burning was about to start. A cigarette was lit.

Friend: It’s the start of a revolution. We are going be the renaissance men.

I knew he must have a plan. He always did. Whatever it was, this was going to be our ultimate contribution to mankind. I stepped out of his house and walked into the rain, waiting for the acid to hit me.

Two days passed and it was time for execution. I went to his house. The red house on Nayak street. There seemed to be people working on it. They were plastering the walls and cleaning up the place. I asked them what the matter was and one replied that it was going to be converted into a photo studio. How was it possible? How can they convert someone’s home into a photo studio?

I called him on his number. He didn’t pick up. What the hell was going on? I started going back to my room. I entered a quiet alley and there he was, standing right in the front of me.

Me: What the hell is going on man? Do you know what they are doing to your house?

Friend: They are working on it and it’s not my house.

Me: What?

Friend: I meet you here today to inform you of a recent development.

Me: What is that?

He reached into his pocket and took and took out a cigarette from the pack.

Friend: We set out to challenge people. We have done that. We have given the people enough to act upon recently. In the process, you have outlived your utility.

Me: What does that mean? Hey, are you kidding with me? We were going to..

Friend(cutting me off): We already did that. Don’t you remember? Yesterday night, we sneaked into the underground car parking and planted the bombs. The lousy security guards were no threat at all. We had fun, don’t you remember?

I was getting scared now. When did that happen? I didn’t remember doing any such thing. I reached for the gun and instead got hold of a cigarette packet.

Friend: You smoke too much.

Who was he? What was happening? Cigarettes? I didn’t smoke. How did it get there? He was not a friend. He was a fiend.

Me: What is this? What the fuck is going on?

Fiend: I’ll explain everything. You wanted to do something challenging. Didn’t you? Weren’t you bored of stealing? Didn’t you want to have a greater impact on everything? You asked for it, you got it.

Me: Wh..What?

Fiend: I was everything you thought you were lacking. You created me to do what you thought was more challenging. You just disguised it in the form of social service and employed me to help you along.

Me: This is bullshit. This can’t be true.

The acid drops began to fall. I searched for it again and this time got hold of the gun.

Fiend(smiling): Shoot me.

I looked at him and his eyes still had the sparkle and confidence which was so characteristic of him.

Fiend: Shoot me because anyways I am going to shoot you. You have played your part. You have to die because if you get caught, everything would appear a sham and people would go back to what they were. These things can’t have a face, because if they do, they lose the credibility and purpose.

I shot at him instantly. An old man passing through the alley dropped to the ground in the distance.

Me: O Shit. O Shit!! What the fuck is this!!!

Fiend: You know it. Accept it.

He had the pistol.

Fiend: Run.

And I ran harder than I ever had. Tears welled up in my eyes. Tears of horror. I ran and ran and ran and reached a plateau, a high rise kind of a place. You could see the whole city from there. And there it was, the headquarter of DevDomain shining in the horizon. I hoped what he had said was not true. That nothing was going to happen. He reappeared by my side.

Fiend: Enjoying your last work?

I felt a chill as I hoped nothing would happen.

Fiend: One more minute to go.

Every other sound faded away. I could only hear my heartbeat. A minute passed by. Nothing happened. I looked at him. He looked disgusted.

Fiend: What the …Why didn’t it go off? What the fuck !!

I kept staring at him and realized what I had been doing. What I felt was not remorse or any feeling of guilt. It didn’t feel wrong. Nothing. I just didn’t want to do it any more.

Fiend: We will do it again. Crap!! You and me.

The rain had to stop. I was not in a position to make a judgment, but it had gotten lonely.

Me: No, we won’t.

And I plunged into the depths from the plateau. The last thing I saw was the sun escaping the cover of the clouds.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

fzeee..

it started of as a need for a ride..
places to go and no where to hide..
met her flirtin, wit sumone else...
and those eyes,they felt out of this place..

the curves juss too good to be true..
raisin brows here n there..
all my motions and how they flew..
this silly world,i couldnt care..

a passion to lay my hands on her..
with me lost in a rhyme...
she went by,i chased time..
chased her till i heard her whine..

gullible i woke up next day..
lookin around to catch my prey..
she seemed too hot to handle..
when there were others that posed a try...

fooled 'round door to door
meetin everybody else but her..
they were good but......
didn't have the charm to make the cut..

some days went by
now i have her..
she loves me when i ride her..
craves more more no matter what i give her..

we zoom past the crowd,as they drool..
her high rises and the low cuts all so cool..
the solid rear or the blinding front..
the nasty crowd bears the brunt...

we fuse as single soul..
bend low go high sweep all by..
touch the sky in an orgasmic bout
we make sounds didnt you hear us shout...


it happens day in n day out..
now you will wonder who was she..
well its something someone who drives me...
you may lovingly call it fz.......