Masterton stumbled in the darkened room at the Premier Inn and his ample buttocks sank into the full-sprung mattress. His head buzzed and his throat throbbed, aggravated by the near bottle of cheap brandy he had just drank.
He saw his puffy, red-eyed expression in the full-length wall mirror, but was too befuddled to reflect on the irony that he was able to look himself in the face.
The day had been a triumph. Already the head of his legal chambers had texted his congratulations. A Crown Court victory in one of the most high-profile cases in recent memory. Already the Internet was buzzing and it had led the television evening news on all channels. This would be the making of his career, a call to become a Queen’s Counsel must surely be forthcoming.
Masterton looked anxiously toward the bathroom; he had a desperate need to vomit. He bounced off the plastic chair and barked his foot on the bed as he hurtled headlong though the door. He passed out in a pool of his own vomit.
Back at his law chambers they toasted him in his absence. It had been a tremendous victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. Their defendant had repeatedly sexually abused his three children – two girls, one boy – from their earliest age into their late teens. Three lives destroyed before they had started.
The English legal system is a wonderful beast and without a victim with courage to testify, a smart lawyer got him off.
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 