Education at fault

Chapter 1
- Prologue

Chapter Description: Nicholas is a scholar with a major flaw: they have a really bad relationship with authorithy. They despise violence tho, so they never went too far with their outburst. At least they tought... A few bad decisions and poor wording is about to send them in an unexpected journey of reeducation, where everything they thought they knew about themselves is about to be challenged.

I always thought a courtroom was supposed to look grandiose, and intimidating. This wasn’t it. It was lame, and decrepit, with white brick walls covered in yellow smoke stain. It looked like an old classroom lacking funds for proper maintenance… and even smelled like it. The chairs were a mix of bar stools and barely standing benches. If all, it made the ambiance quite comical, with the judge, jury, lawyer, and myself wearing tailored-made suits (that I didn’t expect to wear so soon after defending my thesis) and ties. The (small) audience was dressed more casually, but even they looked uncanny in a weird window-less room. If it wasn’t for my lawyer, I would have never thought this was the right place. Especially considering the city hall, where the court usually takes place, was on the other side of town. Of course, it was my first experience, but even considering that, I could tell that something unusual was going on.

« Court is now in session »

The judge, who was standing on the other side of a desk with an urgent need for a coat of paint, wasn’t even standing on an elevated platform. Still, I have to admit that they didn’t need it; their stare was incredibly intimidating. Being the dumbass that I am, I stared back, trying to look unphased, which was probably not a success, as she listed my petty crimes.

« - Since Mr.Richard is pleading guilty, I…

- I changed my mind. »

My lawyer immediately asked for a pause, which was declined. I still heard him say stuff like «What are you thinking » and « stick with the plan ». The problem is, that I have a bad relationship with authority. I wasn’t in this situation for nothing after all, but I wasn’t scared of prison. Now knowing where I was about to be sentenced, I can only say I was a fool.

Before I say more, let me take you a few weeks back. I should say a few words about myself too. My name is Nicholas, I’m a scholar from a definitely leftist institution, which absolutely fueled my agenda. As I already stated, I do have a problem with authority, but not in the way you think. I’m not a violent individual. I do comply when I’m in a situation where I end up getting arrested. I take pride in solving conflicts with my words. I’m not scared of getting in a physical altercation, but I do my best to avoid it. My problem with authority is not with the person applying it but with the system behind it. Still, I do think it takes a flawed moral compass to apply certain laws. These days, I understand the complexity surrounding it, but at the time when my sentencing took place, my views were much more limited. As a teenager, I was witness to what I qualify as crimes, but they were done by authorities. I will not go into details, but let’s just say witnessing homeless people get abused, victims of domestic violence getting blamed for, well, being a victim, and brutalities justified by belonging to a minority were my main triggers. It’s one thing to hear it in the media, it’s another thing to witness it every other week. At around 15 years old, tired of seeing these violent acts in the apartment building where I live without anything being done, I tried going to a police station outside of our district and only got ridiculed for it. I don’t think listing every one of my attempts to interrupt an abuse situation is necessary. Let’s just say that from age 16 to my mid-twenties, I had multiple fines for disturbing authorities and misdemeanor, amongst other things, and spent a few nights in the station. I, unfortunately, went too far last time tho, when I decided to push back an officer who was getting violent with someone who didn’t deserve it. 

« That makes my job much easier. By pleading not guilty, you just proved what the plaintiff, Officer Janes, states in the file. I was unsure at first, considering your history of scholarship, but there’s no doubt about it now. Education is often a plausible cause in cases like this one and is not easy to get re-done. Still, this court believes in rehabilitation instead of punishment, so this is what will happen. »

I stopped looking at a judge midway through her speech and couldn’t help but notice my lawyer turn pale, definitely concerned about something. The jury was even more alarming, most of them now wearing a grim smile, definitely satisfied with the events unfolding.

« Your honor …, my lawyer tried to say.

- Don’t waste your breath. The decision has been made. As suggested by your file, Mr.Richard, you will undergo a psychological evaluation which will be used to determine the conditions of your tuition. As this is not a common sentencing, I can only give an estimate of the length of your condemnation, which is going to be between 3 and 6 years. »

It didn’t take much more to make me regret my intervention. I expected a few weeks in prison tops, not years. And the unconventional way my sentence was being delivered, those claims about my ‘’education’’ were starting to stress me out a lot. What did it all mean?

« Failure to comply with the reeducation will mean a longer sentence but sincere participation can make your experience much shorter. I do hope you make the best of this opportunity. Court is now adjourned ».

As the loud ‘’thump’’ of the hammer sealed my fate, the weird ambiance wasn’t even a concern anymore. What words did I use earlier? Oh yeah, grandiose and intimidating. Well, I can definitely say that at this moment, the room felt quite intimidating.

The following hours felt like I was daydreaming. Everything was surreal. I remember vaguely asking the judge for more details and next thing, I was in an office with my lawyer. They mumbled something about the consequences of not following our plans and then went straight to scheduling appointments with the psychologists and psychiatrists who would write my evaluation. I did try asking for more details, but all they said was they couldn’t reveal anything. They did warn me to comply with the program as much as possible, which only raised my anxiety.

I had one week to get my things in order and had appointments almost every day during that time. Strangely enough, some of these days were actually quite happy. My friends and some of my relatives, who were present during the court, made sure I had as much fun as I could. Not even one blamed me for pleading not guilty. If all, the comments were all about how brief and even unfair the judge was. I would even say that some of my friends, who shared similar views of society, were proud of me for taking a stand. I’m normally not a big drinker, but this particular week was pure degeneracy. I drank an incredibly unhealthy amount of booze, was excessively loud in pubs (when I’m usually quiet), and was a menace at karaoke. Despite the appointments during the days and my imprisonment date getting closer and closer, I had a blast. Until the last day. I was having a couple of drinks alone with my closest friend, a few hours before the representative of whatever institution I would be in. I knew it would be close to Toronto, but that’s the only information I was given. 

For the first time in years, I cried. And not just cry. It was definitely ugly crying, messy, and uncontrollable. My friend did the only thing he could. He poured some more whisky… and hugged me. Without saying a word. I don’t know for how much time we stayed like that. But I do remember the conversation we had after.

« It can’t be legal, I said. It just can’t… please tell me I don’t have to go… please tell me what’s going to happen to me! »

Some more time passed, as I kept crying and mumbling the same sentences over and over again. My friend waited patiently for me to calm down before replying. 

« All the gang is already looking into it. We don’t think whatever is happening is entirely legal but for now… you have to be strong. I don’t want things to get worse for you. I promise one thing: We are not giving up! We’ll find a way to get you out of there, no matter what. »

No more words were said that night, but still, it was the biggest conversation I had all week.

My belongings were moved to my relative’s house. I had nothing to do, despite my desire to help. Everyone was being nice up until the last minute, but I could see the discomfort. The fear about my fate. It was in an empty apartment, yet full of memories, that I spent my last hours as a free person. It was in an empty apartment that I spent my last hours has myself.

Knock Knock Knock

It was time. 20h on the dot. The bus was parked in front of the door. I could never have guessed where it was bringing me.