The Collapse CLXXVIII: Trial Day 2

 12 October 20XX+1

My Dear Lucilius:

The crowd that met us at the storefront was just as large as the previous day; apparently the potential death of a man rated above almost any other activity that could be going on. In fact, I did not wonder if there more people than the day before.

Cataline, Terentia, and their advocates took their places. The crowd settled into the chairs they had brought or rested against the walls. I did note, somewhat disturbed, that Young Xerxes had apparently found even more men I recognized vaguely, armed with sidearms.

The Advocate for Cataline rose. He had only two witnesses to call, he said. The first was Cataline.

Cataline approached the chair and swore the oath. He looked exhausted, the tired of a man who had been pushed to the brink and then almost over.

The questioning commenced.

In short order, his Advocate had established that he was from a Southern State and had come to this part of the world for several years during the Summer for employment in the Summer tourist activities that had supported the economy of this region of the world for years. He and his wife were caught off-guard by the switch in the economy and had slightly overstayed their window of departure until departure was impossible, or at least to go anywhere in the vehicle they called home. They had lived with the others in the RV park, forming a sort of society within the society, making things work.

Did he know the man he was accused of killing? Not really, no.

Did he go to his house to confront him? He did, yes. And did he go back to the RV park, followed later by Terentia’s husband? Yes, he did.

The Advocate looked him clearly in the eye. “Did you kill him?”

Cataline looked through the walls at a sight none of us could see. “Yes”, he sighed. “Yes I did”.

The courtroom erupted. Terentia was crying and screaming, what appeared to be her children from the witness stand yesterday crying out “Murderer!” and “Justice”. The contingent from the RV park, sitting behind Cataline’s table, were bunching into a knot, looking for all the world as if they intended to rush the witness chair and grab Cataline to get him out. Only by the dint of the banging of the gavel and judicious shouting and pushing by the bailiffs did the courtroom come back to a modicum of order.

When the courtroom quieted, I did something that surprised even myself: I raised my voice. “Let that happen again” I thundered “and everyone will be out of this room”. This seemed to register, at least a bit.

The Advocate looked at Cataline again. “Why did you kill Terentia’s husband?”

Cataline shook his head and refused to speak.

The Advocate turned to the Fashionable Woman. “Your witness.”

The Fashionable Woman had no questions, just a slow smug smile.

Cataline returned to his chair, looking as destroyed as a man could look.

The Advocate called Cataline’s wife to the stand.

She sat in the chair, a willowy young woman with the same aura of sadness that Cataline wore. Did she know the deceased, the Advocate asked. She slowly nodded her head. How did she know him, he asked with a gentleness he had not used on Cataline.

Because he was her lover, she replied.

The courtroom erupted again. The gavel banging brought it back in line, this time, although Terentia continued to scream and cry until the Fashionable Woman forcibly pressed her down in the chair and whispered ferociously in her ear.

The story came out in drips and dregs, covered in tears. Terentia’s husband had approached her in the Spring. He knew their position: away from all, without a manner of living or income. He was willing offer her a level of sustenance – for a price.

And so – because there was no other option – she paid the price.

The argument had come, she said, when Cataline finally understood what had been happening. Enraged, he went to confront Terentia’s husband, then left before things got out of control. Terentia’s husband had followed him back to the RV park, gun in hand to solve the problem he had created. The two had argued and struggled.

The kill, she said, had been in her defense.

The Advocate nodded. “Your witness”, he said to the Fashionable Woman.

The Fashionable Woman sauntered – I have no other word – up to the witness chair. “A convenient enough story” she said. “What evidence do you have to back it up?”

Cataline’s wife slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a ring. “Show this to her” she said, pointing to Terentia. “He gave it to me. She will recognize it.”

The Fashionable Woman took the ring – a large, diamond encrusted thing – and took it to Terentia. She looked at it, her eyes in disbelief. “My wedding ring” she finally managed to sputter out. “He told me he had taken it to trade for food….” her voice trailed off, looking at Cataline’s wife.

The courtroom was silent, only the tears of Cataline’s wife and the uneven breathing of Terentia filling the room.

The defense rested without another word.

It matched the silence and sadness of my heart for the rest of the afternoon and evening.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca