Приговор при свечах / Judgment in candlelight - Владимир Анатольевич Арсентьев

He heard a woman’s voice somewhere above him, echoing in the empty building and identifying its owner as head of the court office. The public official was looking at the judge from the second floor, saying she would be the clerk “for his case.” The clerk of the court also noted that it had been twenty years since she had documented any court proceedings.

The latter became apparent after a while. During the trial, the clerk began asking the presiding judge to elaborate on the facts of the case so she could correctly reflect them in the minutes. The judge reacted by anticipating her questions, providing clear answers and resolving any ambiguities during the examination of evidence. Every time, he inquired whether everything was clear and glanced at her. The head of the court office was an experienced official and understood that she shouldn’t interfere in the trial without his permission. However, she also occasionally threw glances at the professional judge, drawing his attention to what she saw as inevitable oversights in a woman’s case. In this way, everyone involved in the trial managed to reach a consensus. The judge didn’t know anyone personally and was seeing all the participants for the first time – except for the defendant, whom he accidentally noticed behind the police station bars holding a bowl of raw potatoes, and the prisoner witness who slept soundly during their journey together.

The judge instructed the participants on the organization of criminal proceedings and hurried to buy groceries in a small log cabin. From there, he rushed to the shore and gave the groceries to the helmsman, who was hungry and in a bad mood.

Upon returning to the court, the judge found that the defendant’s counsel was absent. He went in the taiga on the previous day, and no one knew how to contact him or when he would be back. The other lawyer in the area was the investigator’s brother, so he could not participate in the proceedings as Sukhaya’s counsel. There were no other lawyers except for the public defender – formerly assistant public prosecutor, a woman dismissed from service for physical violence she committed against the mayor of the settlement on International Women’s Day. The investigator’s brother, who knew the path to his colleague’s winter cabin, uncoupled the sidecar from his motorcycle and set out on a ride through the thicket. His expedition was a success – the hunter lawyer was found in the woods and brought to the court house.

Meanwhile, the court assembled, composed of the presiding judge to the case and two people’s assessors. The defendant arrived to the court in a stately manner, two guards following her in a single file. One of them had his arm bent at a right angle and carefully carried Sukhaya’s denim jacket. The other policeman deftly moved up a chair for her in the corner, where she gracefully took a seat. The guard hung her jacket on the back of the chair. However, the presiding judge demanded that Sukhaya sit on the defendants’ bench. In due course, the defendant heard her constitutional and procedural rights and said she understood them. She also received a copy of the indictment on time, read it and signed it.

Then the victims and witnesses started arriving. Everyone heard the noise of an An-24 aircraft flying over the area. The district prosecutor, who brought the evidence from the storage room, pointed his finger upwards and victoriously declared that the aggrieved police officer was coming. The district prosecutor was serving as the state prosecuting attorney and anticipated the success of his mission, as he believed the arrival of persons on the prosecution’s list should be enough for a heavy sentence.

During the recess, the judge learned that there was no running water or electricity in the settlement. Without further ado, he went to the same log cabin and bought candles as large as hammer handles – no others were in stock. The only kind of water was sold in half-liter bottles and, according to the label, contained 40 % alcohol – hence the name “firewater.”

After questioning everyone on the prosecution’s list, looking into the facts of the case and examining the evidence, the judge adjourned the case until the next morning. Night had already fallen.

…The candles smoked like steam engines and refused to burn, casting sparks every which way. The judge moved them to the far corners of the table. Those natural candles still had better quality than the second-hand Japanese laptop with a feeble 90-minute battery the judge would buy in several years.

His handwritten pages documented the events of the past tragedy as described by eyewitnesses and victims. At last, the candle flames quieted down and started burning in an almost steady manner, giving cues about the crime story and its circumstances. In this shadow play, one could discern the grotesque images of the calamity.

The hotel, where the judge was the only guest, was part of an apartment building, and its entrance was on the back. The receptionist managed to fill half a pail with late night drizzle from a low cloud. The judge poked his mug out of the window and also caught a couple of slanting droplets. The only window in the tiny hotel room was on the lee side of the house, so all the water available was coming from the roof just once in a while. Thus, he had to tread in the darkness, holding on to the wall, down to the ground floor, where the lonely receptionist met him armed with a mop.

“Could I have some water?” asked the guest, holding out his aluminum mug.

“Water! I know what y’all are like! You’re asking a lot, aren’t you?” fulminated the woman like a drill sergeant. The darkness made the room even smaller. She took up a defensive position in the corner and made jabbing gestures with her mop towards the opposite side, “There, in the pail.”

As the Amazon