Justice Act 3

Characters:
1. Narrator
2. Judge
3. Mr. Frome (Falder’s Lawyer)
4. William Falder – The defendant
5. Ruth Honeywill – Falder’s love interest
6. Clerk
7. Prosecutor
8. Bailiff – announcer

Narrator: It is a dreary afternoon in the courtroom, heavy with the weight of unspoken
stories and unshed tears. Shadows seem to lurk in every corner, perhaps lingering with the
secrets of lives forever changed by verdicts handed down within these walls. Today, a young
man named William Falder stands before the judge, accused of forgery—a mistake made, as
he claims, in a moment of fear and desperation. In this place where cold justice reigns
supreme, whispers of mercy dare to intrude. But will they be heard, or will the rigid arm of
the law once again crush the fragile hope of redemption?
Bailiff: (Announcing loudly) All rise. The Honourable Judge presiding over the case of William
Falder versus The Crown.
Everyone rises as the Judge enters, his face a mask of solemn authority. The weight of his
position, the burden of justice, is etched into his every step. He takes a seat, and the room
waits, breath held, for his signal to sit.
Judge: (Motions for everyone to sit, looking over his papers with a faint sigh) Well, here we
are again, gentlemen and ladies, at the crossroads of law and humanity. Mr. Falder, you
stand here charged with the crime of forgery, a charge not taken lightly by this court. Do you
understand the gravity of this situation? The weight of your actions?
Falder: (Swallowing nervously, almost too afraid to look up) Yes, Your Honor… I do. It… it was
a mistake, a terrible mistake. I— I only did it because… because I was desperate, I had no
other way.
Narrator: Falder’s voice trembles, each word spoken as though it’s clawing its way from the
depths of his regret. His gaze shifts, nervously, toward Ruth, the woman he risked his
freedom for. She sits nearby, eyes full of unspoken fears and hopes.
Frome: (Standing with a flourish, his voice filled with a blend of respect and fervor) Your
Honor, may I appeal to this court not merely as a legal institution, but as a place of
conscience? This young man, William Falder, is not a hardened criminal. He is, in fact, a
young soul who stumbled, whose heart led him astray in a moment of fear and selflessness.
Can he, a man driven by love and compassion, truly be deserving of the same cold
punishment as a calculating forger?
Judge: (Raising an eyebrow, his tone dry) Mr. Frome, I appreciate your… enthusiasm. But this
is a court of law, not a court of sentiment. Intentions, however noble, do not erase the
nature of the crime.
Prosecutor: (With a smug smile and a slight chuckle) Precisely, Your Honor. If we were to
pardon every crime committed in the name of “love” or “desperation,” the law would be
little more than a sympathetic ear for every sob story that graces its chambers.
Clerk: (Leaning toward Bailiff, muttering dryly) And we’d be out of a job, wouldn’t we?
Bailiff: (Dryly, chuckling under his breath) Some days, I’d consider that a blessing.
Narrator: The courtroom hums with a quiet tension, a symphony of contrasting beliefs,
silent judgments, and lingering unease. Each person present, each in their own way, is a cog
in the machinery of justice, moving with or against the grain.
Judge: (Clearing his throat, addressing Falder) Enough of this rhetoric. Mr. Falder, please,
explain to the court, in your own words, why you committed this forgery. And speak plainly
—this is not a place for embellishments or evasions.
Falder: (Takes a deep, trembling breath, casting a glance at Ruth before speaking) Your
Honor, I… I acted out of love, yes, but also out of fear. Ruth here— (gestures toward her) —
she was in an awful situation, something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I thought that if I could
just… just give her a way out, some means of escape, that… maybe… maybe we’d have a
chance to be happy. I thought…
Judge: (Interrupting with a slight frown) You thought? Did you think, perhaps, that there
might be other, lawful ways to assist someone in need? Did you think that the law exists not
to be circumvented, but to uphold order for all?
Falder: (Bowing his head, shame coloring his face) Yes, Your Honor, I understand that now.
But at the time, I felt trapped, as if there was no other way… like I was cornered, and all I
could see was the means to help.
Prosecutor: (Sneering, shaking his head slightly) “No choice”? Your Honor, the defendant
speaks as though crime was his only path forward, as though compassion itself requires the
violation of the law! Tell me, Mr. Falder, would you also justify robbery in the name of
kindness? Or assault in the name of affection? Is there any line that love may not cross,
according to your reasoning?
Ruth: (Stepping forward, her voice shaking with emotion, looking directly at the Judge) Your
Honor, please… I’ve seen William at his best, and I know he’s a good man. He isn’t like those
others you see—he doesn’t deserve to be discarded, cast aside like a common criminal. He
was only trying to help me, and now I… I’m pleading with you, begging you, to show him
mercy.
Narrator: Ruth’s words hang in the air, delicate and potent. She isn’t merely defending
Falder’s actions; she’s pleading for the future they dared to dream, for the fragile hope they
both clung to. In this courtroom, her voice trembles with the weight of lives caught in the
balance.
Frome: (Turning to the Judge, his tone intense, almost fervent) Your Honor, Mrs. Honeywill
speaks the truth. Falder acted out of desperation, not malice. If our law has no room for
compassion, no space for grace… then I must question what kind of justice it truly serves.
Judge: (Sighing deeply, leaning back in his chair) Mr. Frome, must we return, yet again, to
this philosophical debate? The law exists not for the individual exceptions, but for the
broader society. We cannot simply cast it aside every time a sympathetic story touches our
hearts. We must be more… steadfast than that.
Clerk: (Leaning closer to the Bailiff, murmuring) I’d say they ought to write a novel instead.
Might even make more than he does defending forgers.
Bailiff: (Chuckling quietly) True. Though Frome does seem to enjoy his, uh, dramatic
tendencies.
Prosecutor: (Slightly irritated) The law, Your Honor, is not some soft clay to be molded by the
hands of sentimentality. It is a fortress, built firmly to shield society. Without its unwavering
strength, we invite chaos, a disorder in which— (pauses, smirking) well, there is no order or
stability.
Judge: (Softening his gaze as he turns to Falder) Mr. Falder, do you truly grasp what lies at
stake here? This matter goes beyond your individual mistake; it speaks to the broader
implications for justice itself. If we allow you to go free, what’s to stop others from treading
the same path, claiming noble intentions each time?
Falder: (Desperately, his voice cracking) I understand, Your Honor… I do. But I swear, I’ll
never— (voice breaking) never—do anything like this again. I’ve learned my lesson, and I… I
just want a chance to make things right, to… (glances at Ruth with tearful eyes) …to live a
good, honest life.
Ruth: (Choking up, wiping away a tear) Your Honor, please… don’t take him from me. He’s all
I have, and I… I’ve lost so much already. I’m just asking… asking for a chance for us.
Judge: (Looking at Ruth thoughtfully, his gaze softening) Mrs. Honeywill, this court is not
blind to your suffering. But emotions alone do not absolve guilt. (pauses, looking back at
Falder) And yet… justice, without mercy, is indeed a harsh tool.
Narrator: The Judge’s words create a hush in the room, a quiet stillness charged with the
possibilities of compassion. It is as though, for a brief moment, the cold machinery of justice
pauses, considering the human hearts entangled within it.
Frome: (Seizing the moment, leaning forward with renewed fervor) Your Honor, surely, a
man’s life should not be defined by one error. If we truly believe in justice, let it be just and
let it be tempered with understanding. Give him a chance, not in prison, but in honest work
to repay society.
Judge: (After a long, contemplative pause) Very well, I have heard enough. Mr. Falder, it is
clear to this court that your actions were misguided, yet not driven by malice. I am inclined
to offer leniency… this time. But let this be a solemn warning: the law is not a pliable
creature, not to be swayed by whims of the heart.
Prosecutor: (Muttering, visibly displeased) A dangerous precedent, indeed.
Judge: (Firmly, with authority) Silence. Justice, Mr. Prosecutor, is not merely a blunt
instrument; it must be tempered with reason, even mercy. That, too, is the essence of true
law. (Looks at Falder) Mr. Falder, you are hereby sentenced to a term of probation. During
this period, you will work honestly to repay your debt to society and prove yourself a
reformed individual.
Bailiff: (Announcing formally) All rise. This court stands adjourned. Justice has… indeed,
been tempered.
Narrator: And so, the verdict resonates through the courtroom, a decision shaped not
merely by the rigidity of rules but by the hearts of those who sit in judgment. In this small
yet profound act of mercy, a glimmer of humanity emerges within the harsh mechanics of
justice.