He was afraid to open his eyes, not willing to feast upon the judge's facial expression. If it was a frown, what would that mean? Did he lose? Did he win? What if it was a smile? A genuine one, or a shady smirk?

He could hear the jury mumbling to one another, fear striking down to brush his gut leaving an uneasy taste in his mouth. High heels clicked across the tile floor, click clack, click clack. It reminded him of what his teachers sounded like as a school boy, authoritative and strict.

Those high heels carried the final verdict, the fate of the court system.

Would it say guilty, or non-guilty?