"Defendant, pay close attention to the charges against you," the female judge's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.
"You are accused of, after stealing and consuming liquor from your place of employment, assaulting and kidnapping your boss, Mr. Sassen. The charges further detail that you stripped him of his clothing, bound him naked to the hood of your car, and subsequently drove recklessly at high speed on public roads while intoxicated, for a duration of two full hours!"
She paused there, letting the weight of the accusations settle in the air, then continued, her tone growing graver.
"What makes this even more egregious is that this entire process was witnessed by multiple minor children on a nearby school bus. Furthermore, when police lawfully signaled you to stop for inspection, you openly resisted and… provoked law enforcement by throwing donuts at them. Now answer the court, do you admit to all the aforementioned charges?"
"Hello, Your Honor. I admit to most of the evidence, but I didn't steal the liquor; I only drank it because I saw they weren't going to finish it. Plus, I wasn't trying to provoke those police officers, my head was just a bit fuzzy from the drinks, and I wanted to share some donuts with them for breakfast," Sam said, trying to look innocent.
Then his tone shifted, "Also, the one who got seen naked by the kids was that Sassen guy. Shouldn't he get sentenced for something too?"
"Silence!" The judge's expression turned icy.
She banged her gavel forcefully—bang, bang, bang—the sharp sounds making Sam's head ache.
"I find you in contempt of court!" her voice was stern.
"Every word you just uttered, especially your absurd justification for theft, your ridiculous explanation for obstructing law enforcement, and your shameless attempt to shift blame onto the victim, will be recorded in the official record! This fully demonstrates your utter lack of remorse! These factors, along with the crimes you have already been found guilty of, will be given the severe consideration they deserve during sentencing!"
[What a fucked-up day], Sam thought as the female judge, after a lengthy speech, finally announced his sentence: twenty-five years.
His previous job had been security at a strip club.
Most days involved standing around looking bored with his arms crossed, 'politely' throwing out drunk troublemakers, and turning away underage kids trying to sneak in, telling them to go home and play video games.
The job sounded easy, but his boss had a habit of wandering around the club.
If he caught Sam sneaking a look at his phone or taking too long in the bathroom, he'd dock Sam's pay immediately.
The pay wasn't bad, though, so Sam had put up with it.
Sam didn't have many vices, just a fondness for heavy drinking and occasionally hunting wild boar out in the countryside.
Until one day, nearing the end of his shift, he saw a VIP booth where several customers had left behind a whole table full of half-empty bottles of expensive liquor.
The sharp, alcoholic fumes drifted out, making Sam's head swim.
Figuring he was about to clock out anyway, he decided to help 'clean up' the bottles left by the departed patrons.
Just as Sam was drinking enough to make his neck flush red, his boss appeared behind him as if by teleportation, angrily pointing a finger and denouncing his actions, threatening to dock half his pay for the month.
At that moment, the alcohol ignited something in Sam's brain.
He thought of a brilliant plan for a 'joyride'.
None of his colleagues still on shift, including the dancers, bothered to stop Sam as he dragged their boss, Sassen, out to the parking lot.
Using skills honed from tying up wild boar, Sam stripped his boss naked and tied him securely to the hood of his car.
Then, the happy speeding spree began.
Afterward, the donut-throwing incident was a bit hazy.
He remembered seeing police signaling him to pull over, feeling annoyed, and grabbing something from the passenger seat to toss at them.
He only really sobered up when the police finally got their hands on him, tackling him hard to the ground, guns drawn.
[It's over. I'm going to prison to end up sucking dick for the prison gangs,] Sam thought grimly.
He was strong, but he figured he'd inevitably run into some gang leader who liked to make an example out of tough guys.
Seven or eight big guys jumping him at once… he'd probably be beaten until he shit himself.
Right now, Sam was trying to figure out how to stash some cash up his ass, hoping he could use the money inside to buy protection from some shot caller once he got in.
Suddenly, he remembered the little boy he'd met earlier.
He'd needed to use the restroom, and when the guard posted outside the door let him go in, he found a small boy hiding behind the door.
Just as Sam was about to say something, like "What's a kid doing in here?", the boy quickly put a finger to his lips in a 'shush' gesture.
Sam lowered his voice. "What are you doing here? And if you're not using the toilet, can you get out? I need to go."
"No, no," the little boy shook his head. "I have to hide here. I don't want to go out."
"So, what's the deal?" Sam asked, slightly exasperated.
"My mom brought me here because she's testifying against my dad," the boy explained.
Then he remembered something. "Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Sean. What's your name, sir?"
"I'm Sam. Our names sound pretty close."
Sam thought about the guard waiting outside; the kid leaving might cause trouble for him too.
He decided to let him stay.
"Hello, Mr. Sam," the boy greeted him. "Yeah, my dad's a bad guy. Whenever he drinks, he throws things and messes up the house."
Then he added sadly, "My mom's not much better. She hits me sometimes for no reason. I heard the judge will make me live with one of them, but I don't like either of them. That's why I have to hide here so nobody finds me."
Sam felt a pang of helplessness listening to the kid.
He offered some advice. "Look, I think you should try to contact Child Protective Services. Or just tell the judge straight up that both your parents are no good, and ask to find an adoptive family or get put in foster care. Let me tell you, the worst thing in my life was not realizing until I was 15 that I could have reported my parents for abuse and gotten away from them sooner."
"No way, that sounds scary," the boy shook his head. "Anyway, Mr. Sam, how did you end up here?"
"Me?" Sam saw the boy wasn't taking his advice, so he just answered the question. "Because I beat up an asshole, tied him up, and took him for a drive."
"Beat up a bad guy?" The boy's eyes seemed to light up. "So, are you a hero? Heroes always beat up bad guys!"
"I'm not," Sam said flatly, feeling weary.
[Damn superhero comics really mess kids up,] he thought.
"Oh…" the boy said, sounding disappointed. "I wish I could meet a hero. I want to leave this place and go with him to deliver justice all over the world."
Sam was about to say something else, but suddenly there was a sharp knock on the door and the guard's voice urging him to hurry up.
He could only leave the boy with a parting, "Well, good luck then," before flushing the toilet and leaving the restroom.
[Wonder what will happen to that kid,] Sam found himself thinking as the guards escorted him away.
[Will he end up having a shitty childhood like me and turn into an asshole too?]
His thoughts wandered as they led him down the corridor.
He didn't notice the ominous crack appearing in the ceiling above him, didn't see the large wooden plank detaching itself…
BANG!
A heavy plank slammed down onto Sam.
Darkness exploded behind his eyes.
His last conscious thought was a desperate scream in his mind: [Accident! I want compensation! I want medical release!]
Then, nothing.