"I find the defendant guilty as charged!" the judge's voice boomed throughout the tiny courtroom.

The prosecutor asked to be recognized. “Your honor?” Her voice and body language projected the overwhelming confidence of someone who knows the deck is stacked in her favor. "Given the severity of the crime, the state asks that the maximum sentence be imposed."

"Very well," the judge replied. His eyes focused on the defendant, who trembled under his gaze. "For the crime of inattentive driving resulting in a rear end collision and injuries, aggravated by a two hour traffic backup during rush hour, the defendant is sentenced to death by firing squad. This action will be carried out at noon tomorrow."

The defendant, a paunchy forty-ish bank examiner from a quiet suburban neighborhood, fainted as the sentence was read. Just a week before, he had been reading some financial documents while driving his new Lexus to work in heavy traffic and failed to notice a commuter bus abruptly slowing down in front of him. Two people were seriously hurt in the resulting collision. As prescribed by law, the defendant was tried in traffic court.

"Bailiffs, take him away!" the judge bellowed.

Two large ex-linebackers in their court uniforms moved in swiftly and scooped up the defendant. David meekly stepped aside as they carted him out of the room.

"Next case!"

"People versus Cramer!" the court reporter announced. "The charge is carpool lane violation."

Paulette Cramer, a very scared looking middle-aged black woman, was led into the courtroom by another oversized bailiff. Her eyes were as wide as rabbit caught by headlights in the middle of the road.

"Do we have the arresting officer's report?" asked the judge.

"Right here, your honor." The prosecutor rose and approached the bench. "This is people's exhibit number one." She waved the documents in her hand. "On April 17th the arresting officer lawfully stopped the defendant for a carpool lane violation. A plain view search of the passenger compartment revealed a department store mannequin seated in the back, dressed to resemble another passenger."

The prosecutor handed the report to the judge, who adjusted his bifocals and began reading. When he finished he looked up. “Does the defendant understand the charge?"

David and Paulette rose from their chairs. “Yes your honor, she does."

"How does the defendant plead?"

"Your honor, my client wishes to plead guilty."

"Very well. Is there anything you would like to say on your own behalf before I pass sentence?"

"Yes your honor. My client would like to point out that this is her first traffic violation and that her actions did not cause any significant delay or inconvenience for her fellow commuters. My client expresses regret for the time expended by the arresting officer and by this court in adjudicating this matter. Given the mitigating factors, my client is throwing herself upon the mercy of the court."

"Does the state have any objection to the request for leniency?"

"No, your honor," the prosecutor replied with a yawn. A guilty plea counted the same as a conviction on her record.

The judge removed his glasses. "For the crime of attempting to circumvent the High Occupancy Vehicle law, this court sentences the defendant to serve six months hard labor on a Department of Transportation road crew."

Paulette Cramer shrieked in horror. Her hands clutched desperately at David.

"Bailiffs, take her away."

"You!" Paulette shouted accusingly at David as the two large men pulled her away from him. "This is your idea of leniency? I plead guilty in order to spend the summer on a road crew? Might as well have them kill me right now!" The bailiffs dragged her kicking from the courtroom.

The doors closed and the judge picked up his gavel. "That the last case?" he asked the court reporter.

"Yes, your honor."

"Very well. This court is adjourned." The gavel fell. The sound echoed like a thunderclap.

There was a metallic click before the steel bars slid open. David walked down a corridor past a row of haunted faces as the main gate to the cellblock then slammed shut behind him. The prisoners watched silently as he passed. They were all waiting for their day in traffic court. Most had never in jail before.

David stopped at the last cell. He peered through the bars at his most important client. Unlike nearly all of the other people he had ever defended, Martin Luna was not worthy of sympathy. A career criminal, Luna had a rap sheet thick as a detective novel. Years in prison had left him with a hard look and a weightlifter's body. Luna had plenty of experience with the judicial system, but he had never before appeared in traffic court.

Two weeks before, a state trooper clocked Luna driving his Corvette at 135 miles per hour. A chase ensued. He was arrested a half an hour later after he tried to ram a police roadblock. The trooper who had tried to stop him was killed during the pursuit. If convicted in traffic court, Luna faced the infamous roadkill penalty. He would be tied to a post erected in the middle of a government owned track and run over by a specially designed police vehicle traveling at a high rate of speed. It was the severest punishment that the court could mete out.

David’s client looked up as if annoyed by the interruption. "You win any cases today?" he asked sarcastically.

David ignored the remark. "I came to ask if you would consider changing your not guilty plea."

The inmate laughed. He wrapped his powerful hands around the bars and brought his face to one of the openings. "Why? So they can shoot me or hang me instead?"

"As your lawyer, I have to ask."

Luna regarded him with suspicion. "Does this mean you were bullshitting me when you said you were sick of the system?"

"I'm still willing to defend you to the best of my ability."

Luna smiled. "That's good. Because I don't have any intention of going down without a fight."

"I'll see you tomorrow."

As David turned to leave, Luna stuck a meaty finger between the bars and pointed at him. "Don't weasel out on me, counselor. Or I swear my last act on this Earth will be to break your fucking neck!"

It was after sunset by the time David drove home on the expressway. He clutched the steering wheel tightly. Bulletin boards placed by the Department of Transportation loomed ominously along the side of the highway. They used to just be part of the scenery, but now they taunted him.

'WEAR YOUR SEATBELT. IT’ S THE LAW'. Or you'll receive ten lashes.

'DON'T EXCEED 55'. Or you'll end up in The Chamber, a fiendish device designed to increase g-force until you scream in agony.

'DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE'. Or you’ll be force fed a specially designed acid solution guaranteed to burn your throat and stomach lining, causing intense pain. Presumably this cures you from ever wanting a drink again.

David’ s palms began sweating as he tried to stay focused on the road. Suddenly, the flashing lights of a police car appeared in his rear view mirror. His stomach wrenched with dread as he pulled over to the shoulder.

The trooper exited his vehicle and began walking toward him, his heavy jackbooted footsteps echoing across the blacktop. His dark sunglasses made him look like the prison guard in Cool Hand Luke. He switched on a large flashlight and aimed the beam directly into David's eyes. "License and registration please."

"Yes sir," David said meekly. His hands quaked as he fumbled to remove his license from his wallet and the registration card from the glove compartment. The harsh flashlight beam followed his hands wherever they moved. Sweat beads gathered on the back of his neck underneath his collar.

"Did you know you have a taillight out?" the trooper asked while he reviewed David's documents.

"No sir," David replied, trying to sound as respectful as he could. "I just had my car serviced last week. They would have replaced it had it not been functioning."

"It's very dangerous to be driving this way."

"I agree sir," David lied. He didn't think driving on a well-lit expressway minus one taillight was very dangerous at all.

The trooper suddenly smiled. “Wait a minute, I recognize you. You're one of the defense attorneys in traffic court."

David sat in embarrassed silence.

"I've testified against some of your clients. Every single one of them was found guilty." The trooper began to laugh. "The guys are never going to believe this. Wouldn't it be hysterical if I ran you in? Who would you get to defend you?"

David knew there was nothing he could do but accept the humiliation. "Can I go?" he asked politely, sensing that the trooper's amusement had saved him.

The officer handed back his documents, still chortling. "I’ll let you off with a warning this time. But get that taillight fixed immediately. The next guy who pulls you over isn't likely to be as soft a touch as I am." He shut his flashlight off and began walking back toward his cruiser. "Have a good night, counselor."

David waited until the police car sped away before pulling back onto the highway. He no longer had any remaining doubts. Tomorrow he was going to defend Martin Luna to the best of his ability.

***

Two remote controlled cameras watched silently as Martin Luna was led into the courtroom. The courtroom was off limits to the public, but since the Luna case had gained nationwide notoriety it would be seen by the whole country. The defendant looked around as the court reporter read the charges against him. He eyeballed the judge, the prosecutor and a bookish old lady who sat at the stenographer's desk. David sat down next to his client, busily scribbling notes on a legal pad.

There were no opening arguments in traffic court. The prosecutor rose. "Your honor? The state would like to call its first witness."

"Proceed."

The first person to take the witness stand was the partner of the dead officer, who recalled the whole incident in graphic detail. When asked to identify the driver of the suspect vehicle, he pointed a sharply accusing finger at Luna. David did not cross-examine him.

"If I'd been packing a rod, I would have popped him too," Luna whispered to David, who remained stone-faced as the prosecutor called her next witness.

The dead officer's wife took the stand and described with great detail the difficulties she was going to face raising her children without their father. The prosecutor played it up for the camera, practically crying herself as she led the witness through an account of how her little ones kept asking when daddy coming home. The testimony held no evidentiary value, of course, but anything was admissible in traffic court as long as it helped the prosecution.

"Your witness," the prosecutor said to David.

"No questions, your honor."

"I have a question," Luna spoke up. He stared at the teary eyed woman on the witness chair. "Since you need a man so bad, how about if stop by your house tonight after my lawyer gets me out of here?"

"Order! Order!" the judge bellowed, banging his gavel wildly. The bailiffs reached for their batons. "One more outburst and I'll hold you in contempt and have you shackled to your chair with your mouth taped shut!"

Luna fell silent, though he smirked at the witness as she was led from the courtroom. Once off the stand, her tears dried up and she returned his gaze with cold contempt.

The prosecution called five more witnesses before resting its case. David called only one, a criminal psychologist who testified that Martin Luna's anti-social acts resulted from a broken home and the drug related death of his mother.

"Where did you dig up that guy?" Luna whispered contemptuously to David as the psychologist left the stand.

"He owes me one. I helped him avoid jail time on a parking ticket."

The prosecutor's closing arguments were brief. She stared right into the camera as she argued Luna’s guilt, playing to the silent audience beyond. After she finished, David stood up and ignored the camera completely as he made his final remarks.

"Your honor, I am not going to insult this court's intelligence by insisting that my client is an innocent man." David spoke with more confidence than he had in court for a long time. "There is no question that my client’ s actions contributed to the death of a highway patrolman.

"But where does the real responsibility lie for the officer’s death? Martin Luna was driving our highways at a dangerous rate of speed. For that, he should be punished. But I submit to the court that the officer is also at fault. Rather than call ahead and have this reckless driver stopped at a roadblock, he instead chose pursuit. Doing so not only put his own life in danger, but also the lives of innocent commuters who now faced the very real threat two vehicles driving out of control at a high rate of speed.

"Your honor, I submit that the officer was a victim of his own actions and that my client should be found innocent on the charge of vehicular manslaughter. Thank you."

The judge glowered at David as he sat down. Blaming the victim was a tactic normally given little weight in traffic court. After a pause, the judge raised his gaze to the camera. "I'll be back to deliver my verdict after these commercial messages."

Luna looked questioningly at David as they waited for the signal that the commercial break was over. David nodded. Luna smiled and focused his eyes on the judge.

"Will the defendant please rise?" the judge asked when the camera was live again.

"Do you have anything to say on your own behalf before I pass sentence?"

"Yeah," Luna replied. "Fuck you!"

David reached into a shoulder holster under his suit coat and pulled out a semiautomatic pistol. Before either bailiff could react, he turned toward them and fired, striking one square in the chest. The second bailiff managed to his get his gun free of his holster and was starting to raise it as David fired again. Gut shot, the revolver tumbled to the floor as he collapsed. David rushed to the courtroom door to ensure that it was locked. He then stood over each bailiff in turn, firing one headshot apiece.

"I've been saving something special for you, honey," Luna said menacingly as he rushed to the prosecutor's table. David’s counterpart tried to resist as he grabbed her with one huge arm and pulled her to him. He stared theatrically into the camera. "For conspiring to hurt innocent people, and being a total bitch about it, the sentence is death by Luna!"

He locked her head under his arm and twisted her neck. A loud cracking sound reverberated in the courtroom as the vertebrae snapped. Her body went limp and he allowed it to drop to the floor. David watched as Luna then walked up to the court reporter's desk and picked up her machine.

"Did you go to school for this job?" he asked her.

"Yes sir," the lady's voice trembled.

"Then you obviously have stenography on the brain," he replied. Luna swung the machine down on her head. The force of the blow knocked her backwards over her chair, shattering her skull.

Luna turned to face the bench. The judge sat slackjawed and paralyzed as the big man walked up behind his chair. Luna knelt down and put his massive forearm around the judge's neck. "Come over here, David," Luna said in a calm voice. "This is your chance for revenge. Kill this piece of shit."

David balked. "I thought we were going to use him as a hostage to make our escape."

"Where the hell are we going to go?" Luna asked incredulously. "They have an army. They'll comb every inch of countryside until they track us down and shoot us like dogs."

David’ s mouth opened in disbelief.

"Did you really think I wanted to make an escape?" Luna laughed. "Man, you’re dumber than you look. I've accepted the fact that I’m going to die. All I really wanted was a chance to take as many of these sons-of-bitches with me as possible."

David’s cheeks reddened. Helping his client escape was supposed to be his grand statement against the system. And now Luna had betrayed him.

"Man, you’ve got to be the stupidest fucking lawyer I've ever met," Luna howled, loosening his grip on the judge's neck. “You of all people should know there's no fighting the powers that be. Where did you get your law degree, off the back of a cereal box?"

White hot with rage, David raised the pistol and fired one shot. The bullet struck Luna below the chin. He slumped backwards, one hand clutching at the wound as blood spewed between his fingers. He gurgled as his lungs tried desperately to draw air through his ruined throat. He soon lost consciousness and fell to the floor behind the judge’s chair.

The judge looked up at David. "Well,” he demanded sternly. What are you going to do now?"

David answered by emptying the clip into the old man's chest.

***

The engine revved menacingly. The ropes dug into David's wrists, cutting off his circulation. The car was about a mile away down the empty track. David was standing on the asphalt in the blazing sun, hands tied securely to a post behind him. He squinted through the glare at the instrument of his impending death.

A green light signaled and the car accelerated toward him. As it roared closer, David noted that aerodynamic front end would probably cut him in half. He stared stoically straight ahead. As the car closed the last few feet between them, the camera focused on his face. “Bastards!" he screamed, though his voice was drowned out by the engine's roar.