Chapter 60: Swift Justice
Judge Harold Wilson hadn't slept properly in three days. Every shadow seemed to hide watching eyes, every sudden noise made him reach for the panic button installed beneath his desk. He knew The Architect's reach was spreading through Gotham's courts, and even though Wilson had never done anything criminal worth noting, the fear still gnawed at him—because anyone could be next.
The Torrino massacre. The Judge & Councilmen killings. Professor Pyg's disappearance. The Falcone-Maroni fusion horror that had traumatized even seasoned detectives. Each case had followed the same pattern: criminals who had escaped proper justice through corruption, technicalities, or system failures—then faced something far worse than prison.
Wilson stared at the case file spread across his mahogany desk: The People vs. Garfield Lynns. The Firefly case had landed on his docket through random assignment, but random felt like a loaded AK-47 pointed at his head.
Twenty-three dead. An entire retirement home reduced to ash and screaming. Video evidence, witness testimony, physical evidence—an airtight case that should result in life imprisonment without possibility of parole. Simple. Clean. Justice served.
But Wilson remembered Judge Morrison, who had protected corrupt officials and violent criminals for years. Morrison's body had been found arranged as part of the Architect's "broken scales" display, his bones incorporated into the gruesome sculpture. The message had been clear: judges who prevent justice face judgment themselves.
A knock interrupted his brooding. "Your Honor?" His clerk, Janet, peered through the door. "The Firefly hearing is scheduled to begin in ten minutes."
Wilson nodded, straightening his robes with trembling fingers. "Thank you. Is Detective Gordon here to testify?"
"Yes, sir. Batman as well—he's provided a detailed incident report and evidence analysis."
Wilson's stomach clenched. The Dark Knight's presence meant media attention, public scrutiny, and—most importantly—a clear record of exactly how this case was handled. If Wilson showed any leniency, any hint of the corruption that had plagued Gotham's courts, it would be documented and publicized.
Then the Architect would know.
"Send them in," Wilson said, trying to project confidence he didn't feel.
The courtroom filled quickly. Reporters packed the gallery, cameras focused on the defendant's table where Garfield Lynns sat in restraints, his face showing no remorse.
Wilson called the court to order and began proceedings with unusual speed. No delays, no procedural challenges, no time-wasting motions. Every instinct honed by thirty years on the bench screamed at him to move fast and move decisively.
"Detective Gordon, please state your findings for the record."
Commissioner Gordon approached the witness stand, his old face grim. "Your Honor, on the evening of March 15th, Garfield Lynns, also known as Firefly, attacked Sunset Gardens retirement home with homemade incendiary devices. He trapped the residents in their rooms before igniting the building. Twenty-three victims died from burns or smoke inhalation. Physical evidence places him at the scene, and multiple witnesses identified him."
"Any mitigating circumstances?"
"None, Your Honor. This was premeditated mass murder."
Wilson turned to the defense attorney, a public defender who looked as eager to finish quickly as everyone else. "Counsel, how does your client plead?"
The lawyer cleared his throat nervously. "Not guilty, Your Honor. However, we intend to present evidence of my client's severe mental illness and request the court's consideration for psychiatric treatment rather than incarceration."
A slow smirk spread across Firefly's scarred face. This was the moment he'd been waiting for—the same old song and dance that had gotten him released seventeen times before. Mental illness. Treatment. Rehabilitation. The magic words that had always set him free to burn again.
The defense attorney continued, emboldened by his client's confidence. "Your Honor, Mr. Lynns suffers from severe pyromania, a recognized psychological disorder. His actions, while tragic, stem from an uncontrollable compulsion. We have three psychiatric evaluations that—"
"Stop." Wilson's voice cut cleanly across through the courtroom.
Firefly's smirk faltered slightly.
"Counsel," Wilson continued, his tone growing colder, "are you seriously asking this court to show leniency to a man who burned twenty-three innocent people alive? Who trapped elderly victims in their rooms and laughed while they screamed?"
"Your Honor, mental illness is a mitigating factor that—"
"Not in this courtroom." Wilson's gavel came down like thunder. "Mr. Lynns has been evaluated by court-appointed psychiatrists. All concluded he is competent to stand trial and fully aware of his actions. His so-called 'compulsion' didn't prevent him from planning this attack, acquiring materials, or choosing his victims strategically."
Firefly's smirk vanished completely, replaced by dawning disbelief as he realized this wasn't going according to script.
"The plea is entered as not guilty. We'll proceed with testimony, but I warn counsel—any further attempts to excuse mass murder with psychiatric babble will be met with contempt charges."
Batman stepped forward when called, his cape settling around him like shadows made solid. Even Wilson, accustomed to Gotham's strangeness, felt intimidated by the Dark Knight's presence.
"Batman, you were present during the arrest?"
"I arrived during the fire," Batman's voice carried clearly through the courtroom. "I observed the defendant preventing residents from escaping, actively prolonging their suffering. He showed clear awareness of his actions and their consequences. When apprehended, he expressed satisfaction with the deaths he'd caused."
"In your professional opinion, was this a crime of passion or premeditated murder?"
"Premeditated. The defendant brought multiple incendiary devices, targeted the most vulnerable population possible, and chose a time when maximum residents would be present. This was calculated mass murder."
Wilson felt the weight of dozens of eyes upon him—reporters, victims' families, Batman himself. But more importantly, he felt the phantom presence of the Architect, watching from somewhere in the shadows, weighing every word and decision.
"The court finds the defendant competent to stand trial," Wilson announced, his voice steady despite his inner turmoil. "Given the overwhelming evidence of premeditated murder resulting in twenty-three deaths, and considering the defendant's extensive history of arson with seventeen previous arrests, this court rejects any claims of diminished capacity."
Firefly's face went white. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Seventeen times before, the mental illness card had worked - each time he'd walked free or received minimal sentences. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly as the reality sank in.
"This court sentences Garfield Lynns to life imprisonment without possibility of parole," Wilson continued, "The defendant will be transferred immediately to Blackgate Penitentiary's maximum security wing, where he will remain in isolation under 24/7 surveillance for the protection of other inmates and staff."
"Furthermore, given the defendant's history of seventeen previous escapes from custody and his demonstrated willingness to kill innocent civilians, prison guards are hereby authorized to use lethal force if the defendant shows any signs of attempting escape. This authorization is non-negotiable and will remain in effect for the duration of his incarceration."
For a moment, stunned silence filled the courtroom. Then Firefly exploded.
Lynns finally showed emotion, his head snapping up with fury. "You can't do this! I'm an artist! My fires are beautiful!"
"Bailiff, remove the defendant." Wilson banged his gavel, bringing the session to a close. "This court is adjourned."
Batman approached the bench as the courtroom emptied. "Your Honor, I want to thank you for handling this case with appropriate gravity."
Wilson nodded stiffly. "The evidence was clear. The sentence fits the crime."
"Indeed." Batman's cowled gaze seemed to pierce straight through him. "Gotham needs judges who understand that some criminals cannot be reformed—only contained."
After Batman departed, Wilson sat alone in his chambers, still shaking slightly. He'd done the right thing for the right reasons, but the fear remained. The Architect had made it clear that Gotham's justice system was being watched, evaluated, and found wanting.
Today, Wilson had passed that evaluation. He prayed it would be enough to keep the shadows at bay.
Outside his window, Gotham's evening fog began to roll in, and Wilson couldn't shake the feeling that somewhere in that gray darkness, scales were being balanced—and his name had just been moved from one side to the other.
The Firefly case was closed. Justice had been served swiftly and completely.
But Wilson suspected this was only the beginning of a larger reckoning that would reshape Gotham's entire system of law and order, one case at a time.
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