Demon's Protégé

"The Good Guy And His Boring Job"

Prosecutor Ramon Alonzo will be turning forty-eight this year. He was still single, alright. He had no time for dating, anyway. Sadly this was his life now. He was born in the Year of the Snake, raised by two middle-class bred parents and he lived through years of trying to master the evolving department of law and politics.

It had always been his dream job. The appealing life of a mediocre government employee that he previously thought was satisfying enough had slowly turned out to be a mental exhaustion, however.

Alonzo has been a prosecutor until now for over ten years and yet he was still learning a lot of things. There was just so much to take in from this kind of society filled with human lies and deception. Yet every time a new case barrels into their department and lands on his workload, Alonzo quickly finds distraction to eliminate his stress by putting a lot of pressure in his tasks. He even rarely gets out of his office and he always forces himself to solve all the cases he could get his hands on and make sure that justice had been served fairly. That was his motto in life.

Serve justice fairly.

His father raised him good to know when and where to admit one's mistake. Alonzo has always lived his life rightfully and well-mannered. And despite having to deal with a lot of criminals in his line of work, he would always make sure that he treat every one of them the same way he would treat anyone who is innocent. Humans are humans after all, and they still deserved to be treated humanely.

“Respect and justice must be given fairly regardless of anything else.”

These words were even put up in a calligraphic portrait in his living room back in his house on the east side of the city. Alonzo had personally made it customized to his own liking. The phrase was his own idea and he liked the way it gave him reason to face his job every day with a sane mind. He was a man of his words, spoken a little too few when he tries to but once he had made up his mind about something, he will be a really persistent nagger who would never back down unless he finally fulfills what he deems necessary and proper.

On a Wednesday that week, he found a case file on his desk. It was a normal occurence, he would often receive memos and notices every hour. But this one was particularly unexpected. It was a blue folder with a confidential tape pasted across it.

Alonzo immediately figured what it was for and when he finally opened the document and read into the details, he learned that this special case was for a man suspected of murder. One of the death row inmates. And the name was…

Well, at this point, only an alias could be provided. And this one has been labeled as Red Mahogany.

Red Mahogany was a thirty-six years old man who had been detained for five years now after he had been accused of murdering his brother six years ago on a Sunday night. He was the prime suspect and was immediately arrested after being caught in the scene with no acceptable alibi. All the concrete proofs led up to his end and pleading guilty of the crime, he ended up entering the death row category.

Since then, he was held in prison, confirming that there was no chance for him to get bail. Until this special case came and somehow, this might be a good chance to come clean again from his crimes.

But what if he was really innocent?

Alonzi had always felt worried of it, but ever since he had handled these kinds of special cases, no one from the death row has ever really survive the last-chance trial.

For this particular man named Red Mahogany, his awaited trial was scheduled on this coming Monday.

“Man, they’re giving us too many of these lately, aren’t they?”

Gary from the desk beside Alonzo wheezed like a little child as he lazily hung his head back on the headrest of his seat. He turns his revolving chair sideways and played with the pen in his hand, tapping the wooden top of his desk and whined on about their futile work.

“It’s been days and all I ever do is be stuck in this chair and read all files of files and words of words. It’s too boring. It’s never like the movies I used to watch when I was still studying criminology.”

Well, the reality is never like any movies at all. This world is a dumb place to keep surviving.

“Snap out of it,” Alonzo smacked him on the top of his head with a glare, “This is our job. Be serious about it.”

“Alonzo and his great ethics, really.”

The younger prosecutor muttered but it was deliberately said out loud for Alonzo to hear.

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The analog clock on the wall ticked as the seconds went by. It sounded too slow. It almost sounded like a timer. A thin rugged-looking man was sitting on a chair in front of a desk inside a room that was covered with mirrors on three walls and a sliding metal door on the corner of the only painted wall behind the man. His hands were cuffed together and attached to a steel rod protruded in the middle of the table.

He was inside the persecutor’s interrogating room.

A man wearing a white button-down shirt with its sleeves folded up to his elbows and a gun inside a small holster worn around the belt of his black pants stood before the cuffed man with a hard frown drawn on his face. His name is Persecutor Ramon Alonzo.

The man sitting by the desk is Red Mahogany (an alias provided to him by the Bureau of Persecution for legal reasons and was a requirement of the Death Row’s interrogating process).

He was the first man of this year’s first month to be persecuted for his crimes. He will face his final verdict on a Monday morning, three days from now.

Persecutor Alonzo stared down at the young pitiful man who was not even looking nervous nor was feeling bothered by the upcoming judgment that will befall his fate after this interrogation.

For the past twenty years that he has been working in the justice sector (he was a prosecutor before this), Persecutor Alonzo had seen a lot of men and women before this criminal who had begged him to spare them their lives, but Red Mahogany seemed to be one of the only few who didn’t feel afraid.

Afraid of death, that is.

Because if a criminal was labeled and transferred to their department, it only meant a small chance of being pardoned.

Death Row category was the most lethal and hopeless case of the people who committed heinous crimes. And all the men and women who had fallen on this category were once and had been murderers and people who were regarded as merciless and evil. Most of them had already been executed due to being guilty and proven of their crimes.

Beyond that, Persecutor Alonzo already knew that these kinds of people don’t really deserve the slightest ounce of pity from people like him. They can manipulate and lie without batting an eye and for the years he had been working in this side of the Bureau, he was experienced enough to see through their words and spoken deception.

Red Mahogany was a murderer who had slaughtered a total of seven people. The most brutal kill he did was to assassinate a prominent governor. He has been sentenced in prison for over ten years now and he was given a long trial case due to the lack of evidence but because of the numbers of witnesses that had shown up for the years that had passed, he was transferred to Death Row and has been waiting for his trial for three years now since then.

At first look, Red Mahogany does not really seem to be the type of person to do such a crime. Ten years ago, before he was prosecuted and given a sentence by the judge, he was only twenty-five years of age. He wore a very innocent face and a demeanor of a young man who looked too naïve of how the real world works. He was actually a graduate of engineering and the eldest son of a convenience store owner. His relatives and friends had protested that he was actually a nice young man with a good heart, someone who would not really commit murder for no reason. Yet, he had not redeemed himself yet for those years he had been accused.

‘You cannot judge the book by its cover’, that was an old saying.

And it was true, for all the people who had passed through this interrogation.

“You can actually try to defend yourself now,” Persecutor Alonzo said in a matter-of-fact tone and wearily sighed as he pulled the empty chair across Red Mahogany. He sat on the furniture in a slouching posture and looked down on the hands cuffed in front of him. They were the hands that had mercilessly killed two women, two men, a governor, and an old couple. All were affiliated with the governor himself.

“This is like your last chance,” he added on, “So if I were you I would make most of it. Anything you say here will be recorded and might be used for or worst, against you as well. It depends on what you say anyway. As long as you’re not lying, that is.”

“I…” Red Mahogany finally spoke, in a soft distant voice, “I don’t really know… what to say.”

“Huh?”

The look on his face was something of a man who totally lost all of his hope. He was in the acceptance stage, perhaps. Persecutor Alonzo knows that kind of look and for him, he felt like this interrogation has already lost its sense and purpose.

“Well…” the old persecutor muttered, “That was quick.”

“If I tell you everything now, would things ever really change?”

The question somehow felt loaded. Like some kind of philosophical regret that Red Mahogany seemed to be indebted to. If he was going to say or admit what really happened, would that really save him?

Would that bring him back the years that he had wasted inside the prison?

No, it wouldn’t.

That was the truth. And Red Mahogany knew that.

If this is where it all goes back to, then it was better for him to be dead, as well.

“You cannot change anything, but it can give you another chance.”

“Chance to…” Red Mahogany whimsically retorted back, sounding even more hopeless, “Do what?”

“Live.”

But it was no longer enough now.

“I’m okay,” the younger man said, a ghost of a smile faintly showing on his face. But it looked more like a smile of resentment.

“Okay?”

“I’ll die, so what? Everyone dies anyway.”

That was true. But it was a sickening reassurance to be this forgiving of his inevitable death. No matter how heavy his crimes were, Persecutor Alonzo still believed that if a man could change his way of living, he can be noble and honorable regardless of where he had come from. He was not as cold and demeaning as the others of his field acted on the criminals that had been interrogated inside this same room.

Persecutor Alonzo was actually a man of virtue and he believed in second chances. And for him, if Red Mahogany can be, despite being a little too late now, innocent and proven with that verdict, he can still make something better out of the remaining time that can be given to him.

“You’re still young.”

“I’m thirty-six.”

“Still young.”

“No,” Red Mahogany heavily implied, “Not anymore.”

Is thirty-six that old?

It was not a question of a claim but a mere fact that since the average human life has been recorded could extend until a hundred and five years of age in this generation, it only could be a third of the possible time this young man can still live in this world. Apart from his crimes, he can do a lot more… Depending on how his mind works. If he’s really a good man, he can prove himself again. But if he was not…

Then he won’t ever see the day of his old age anymore.

He will return on that very chair the instant he committed a new crime.

“I just want to ask you a question, Persecutor.”

“Hmm? A question?” Persecutor Alonzo shifted on his chair and sat upright as he leaned an arm on the table, “That’s a first.”

Nobody has ever really asked a question to him before like this. Most of the time, all the criminals who sat on the same spot just pleaded for innocence or requested a chance to speak to their loved ones.

But Red Mahogany seemed like one of a kind.

“Just one question.”

Prosecutor tried to think about it for a moment. It can be a misleading trap, still. He can be deceptive as well. He had read his datasheet and records before and Red mahogany was known for being too smart. This can be a little suspicious but since he was no longer feeling the need to interrogate the young man, he agreed eventually.

“It still depends on the question, but let’s hear it.”

“What does the blue screen do?”

It was not a shock anymore. People have always been curious about the famous “blue screen method” that the Persecution Department has used for the past six years. It was the greatest technology ever made by man to the Judiciary sector and society. It gave an easier way to make crime rates drop to a generous degree and made citizens feel safer nowadays.

But the blue screen method is kind of a complicated design that bugged Persecutor Alonzo ever since the day he was assigned and promoted to be a Persecutor under the Death Row department three years ago. It made sense in a way but it was brutal. Being a persecutor that has been shown with the most disgusting and raw truth of the criminals’ inner minds made him puke every time he was scheduled to partake in the ‘blue screening trial’. That was what they call when a criminal was thrown under the technology’s torture.

And it was never a pretty sight. Not that it was physically abusive… But it kind of messes up the minds of those who witness it. You have to be strong-willed to really stomach the entire process.

“It shows us images of your subconscious.”

Since there was no reason to filter the truth, Persecutor Alonzo had decided to be as honest as he can for the sake of the young man’s last request.

“Our subconscious?”

“Yeah.” He answered right away with an unwavering stare.

“So you can see the truth, right?”

“Yeah. And even though it brought demise to a lot of people like you. It actually saved a few.”

The guy across the table snorted at those words, “Really?”

“Yes,” Prosecutor Alonzo deadpanned, “If the screening proved your innocence then you can be acquitted of the crime. That was the rule. But if not, the jury will be the last to decide if you deserve any pardon at all or if your luck completely runs out, you will be executed right away.”

“Wow,” the guy whistled back, “And someone really did come up with that invention, huh?”

“Yeah. One that people call a legend.”

“Legend? Pfft. And that legend’s still alive?”

“Apparently,” Prosecutor Alonzo just shrugged, “He’s been earning a lot now from the government, because of this invention and his patent.”

“Must be a good guy.”

“Who knows?”

The guy smirked at the prosecutor, “Now, I kinda wish I was the one who came up with this legendary invention first…”

“Hm.”

“I guess, I just have to experience it myself now.”

At those words, Prosecutor Alonzo paused and raised a brow at Red Mahogany.

“What are you implying? I still have to screen you, you know?”

“We can just stop this interrogation thing, boss. I’m already prepared for Monday.”

“No… I don’t think-”

“I’m okay, Persecutor,” Red Mahogany smiled slowly as he spoke these words and met the prosecutor’s eyes, “I already accepted my fate. There’s nothing I can do now.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------to be continued