The Collapse CLXXV: Murder

 09 Oct 20XX +1

My Dear Lucilius:

We seem to have had a murder.

I say “seem to”; I clearly was not present at the time. All that has been presented is that one person is dead, another person is accused of killing them, and we have something that needs to be resolved.

The circumstances of my own awareness are such: Yesterday I was out moving wood. Somewhere, to the West, a shot was fired. Then another. Then another. It was close enough that it sounded as if it were in town but not close enough that I could identify it.

Hmmm. Hunting, I thought to myself, then carried on about my business.

Later that day, Young Xerxes came around with more information and an urgent need for me to come with him. Apparently it was not a hunt; it was a killing.

I have mentioned before the RV Park and bar that is on the state highway through town. In times past this would have been closing up more or less as the Summer tourists would have left and few if any stay here through Winter in a Recreational Vehicle. Due to the relative suddenness of The Collapse, there were some that were essentially marooned here with not enough fuel to get anywhere worth getting.

Who they are I cannot really tell you; I seldom if ever went to the bar before and I simply do not go there now. Likely they came to the town meetings, but surely I would not have known them from anyone else; even I am somewhat considered an “Out of Towner” after living here as long as I have.

The facts, Young Xerxes explained as we walked the quarter mile to the Park, was that there was some kind of argument that escalated from words to pushing to shooting. Someone was clearly dead. Someone had clearly shot them.

By the time we arrived at the Park, there was a small crowd: Park residents obviously, local residents that heard the shots, and people that came out afterwards as this was the biggest thing that had happened in months. Two men held a third man, struggling to get free. In front of a long block-like Recreational Vehicle (are they not all long and block-like) was a series of blood stains. To the side, in the shade of the bar, was a covered body and a grieving woman.

And shouting. There was a lot of shouting, shouting coming from some men and women by the grieving woman, others from the man in custody, others from men and women by him.

The shouting went on until Young Xerxes fired a shot. The silence, as they say, was deafening.

The question quickly became what to do – with the body, with the captive, with the murder.

For the body, burial that day was obviously in order. The men by the body said they would take care of that.

For the captive, there were – not surprisingly – two counterarguments. One was the shouts of “Execute him!”, the other of “It was justified!”. Young Xerxes – who never seems to have a problem making a decision – delegated two men to take him into the bar and hold them there.

Finally, what to do about the murder.

Judging from the shouts, there were obviously two different points of view with what would have been very different outcomes.

“A trial, then” suggested Young Xerxes in a voice that would not be brooked for opposition.

“But who will judge?” shouted the grieving woman. “I do not trust anyone that has lived here for years.”

“But not someone that has not lived here at all” came the response from out of the crowd.

Young Xerxes slowly scanned the crowd. “Not an outsider, not a life-long resident. Perhaps someone with experience and knowledge. Perhaps even someone that has already served this town loyally. Perhaps….my father in law?”

All eyes turned to me.

It seems, Lucilius, I need to quickly brush up on my legal proceedings.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca