A man died and another one was dying.

“Defendant, stand up.”

The presiding judge’s voice was commanding and the man complied.

“Mr. Duncan Bishop, you are hereby accused of involuntary manslaughter. How do you plead?”

He had two words to say. Two words he had practised many times with his lawyer, who was now looking at him concerned. Two words and everything would be fine, according to him.

Nothing was fine. The heavy lump in his throat and his shaking hands told the truth. If only he could do the same. Raising his head, he only let out a gurgling beyond understanding.

“You must speak up when addressing the court, Mr. Bishop,” snapped the presiding judge.

“N-Not Guilty,” he stammered.

That was it. He had done it, he had told the biggest lie of his life, and without breaking down.

“Fine, you may sit.”

Duncan sat down and took his head in his hands, vainly trying to disappear from existence, but the harsh reality came back with his lawyer's speech. The fact he was ten years younger than him was wry—a kid was supposed to defend him.

“... has even never received any ticket. My client is a respectful citizen, paying his taxes and having never been charged of any crimes.”

If he wasn’t feeling so miserable, he would have stood up and strangled him to silence him. He had to listen to his praise instead, listen to how he was a good man.

Good men didn’t break the speed limit.
Good men always focused when driving.
Good men didn’t kill people.

“What happened is a regrettable accident,” added his lawyer. “One of those accidents that life sometimes brings. It is a tragedy no one could have foreseen. I will prove that my client is innocent, Your Honour.”

Despite all the arguments, something in Duncan’s mind was repeating he was a murderer. Several times, he had been almost convinced he wasn’t one. The light had been green. There had been many cars parked that had prevented him from seeing the guy crossing the street. He had broken the speed limit by only two miles per hour.

His inner voice often focused on those two miles per hour. Maybe if he had driven slower, he could have stopped in time. Maybe if he hadn't been listening to the radio, he would have reacted faster. Surely if he hadn’t taken his car, none of this would have happened. Every time he relived the event, he could clearly see how things could have gone differently.

“I thank you, Mr. Owen. We will audition your witnesses in a moment.” She put some order in the paper in front of her.

He had to do something, he had to end this pantomime if he wanted to be able to look in the mirror.

“Your Honor?” he called.

The judged turned her head. “Mr. Bishop, would you like to add something before?”

He stood up again, trying to keep his balance and his head high for what he was about to say. He had passed through life by keeping his integrity immaculate and today would not be different.

“Yes… I would like to come back to what I’ve said.”

“The Court is listening.”

He took a deep breath. “I plead guilty.”

It had been much more easier to say these words, even if they could mean he wouldn’t see the sunlight before long. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the expression on his lawyer’s face, saying “You can’t be serious!”

There was a deafening silence, followed by whispers, turning into louder exclamations and the presiding judge slammed his hammer.

“Quiet!” The silence fell in the room. “Mr. Bishop, are you absolutely sure you want to plead guilty?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” His voice was firm and determined.

“Very well…”

When he sat down, he did what he thought he could never do again. He smiled, a tear running down his cheek.