I sighed heavily with barely disguised contempt. The mostly empty court room echoed with the bitch’s vicious lies from the witness stand. Sitting handcuffed at the defense table I narrowed my eyes and glanced with longing at the Bailiffs chrome .357 revolver in its holster.

At once I was snapped out of my revere by my lawyer’s shouted objections to her lies, great flecks of spittle flying out of his thin mouth and falling across my shoulders. That was my breaking point.

Leaping from my chair it was easy to backhand the tall black Bailiff with my cuffs. Blood spewed from his eye as he sagged to the floor in a heap. With a twist I freed the smooth bore revolver from it’s leather prison and thumbed off the safety. The silence became deafening after I pumped two shots into his head. Ichor ran down the walls and splashed my face, mixing with sweat. The acrid smell of burnt gunpowder was a tonic to my nerves as I looked up at the bitch and the shocked courtroom faces.

I giggled. Now for my side of the story.