Chapter 16 – Voice of the Prosecution (Part 2)
08:58 – Harvard Law – Mock Courtroom B
The defense had begun its oral argument. The student in charge, Victoria Lang, was known for her calm demeanor and almost mathematical logic. She had a natural talent for dismantling other people's arguments without losing her composure. Logan respected her deeply not out of cordiality, but because he had observed her since freshman year.
"Your Honors, the prosecution has presented a detailed portrait of a brutal crime," Victoria began. "But what it neglects is the psychological terrain in which this crime was germinated. We cannot ignore that the defendant, Jonathan Pierce, was the victim of threats, harassment, and abuse for more than five years."
She walked slowly to the front of the room, just as Logan had done. Her voice was clear and articulate.
"In extreme moments, the survival instinct overrides legal rationality. And this is not about justifying. It's about understanding."
Victoria then proceeded to describe psychiatric reports, statements from coworkers who knew about Jonathan's situation, and audio recordings in which the victim, Nathan Hill, explicitly threatened to "end his life."
Thomas, sitting in the gallery, crossed his arms and looked at Logan. His eyes said: She's good. And she was.
For the next fifteen minutes, Victoria Lang deconstructed part of the prosecution's logic, introducing emotional and moral nuances to the narrative. She did not deny the act, but she argued that the trial could not be reduced to simple cause and effect.
9:22 AM – Prosecution Returns for Rebuttal
"Mr. Moore," the counselor announced. "Your rebuttal is yours. Five minutes."
Logan stood up. His heart was beating faster than before, but his mind was clear as clear as the structure of a well-constructed argument.
"Your Honors," he began, once again calmly. "The defense has constructed an argument worthy of compassion. But as future jurists, we must remember that compassion cannot trump justice."
He looked directly at Judge Harwood.
"Yes, Jonathan Pierce suffered. Yes, the victim was not an easy man. But if we set precedents that turn suffering into a license to kill, we put all citizens at risk. Because what defines a rule of law is control the fact that we respond within the rules, not outside them."
Logan stepped forward. He was now close to the judges' table.
"The defendant had countless opportunities to appeal to the law, to the police, to the judiciary. But he chose the blade. He chose blood. And that…that is unacceptable in a civilized society."
The courtroom was silent.
"The prosecution reiterates: this case is not about understanding. It is about holding accountable."
He bowed briefly and returned to his seat.
09:30 – Closing of the Mock Trial and Deliberation of the Judges
For the next fifteen minutes, the three judges talked quietly among themselves. The technical panel took notes, while the students waited uneasily.
Alicia whispered:
"That was your best speech yet. You almost changed my mind… and I was on your side."
Logan smiled wearily.
"I just wanted to do justice to the complexity of the case. Without exaggerating."
"And you did. Perfect."
09:46 – Feedback from the Panel
The first to speak was Judge Harwood.
"Mr. Moore, Ms. Davenport, the prosecution team… excellent work. Your argumentative structure, technical mastery, and emotional control were worthy of a real courtroom. Mr. Moore, your opening statement and your closing rebuttal were absolutely remarkable. The way you incorporated the element of social risk in your closing was brilliant."
Professor Chung added:
— The prosecution had the most difficult task: to convince a panel that, even in the face of real suffering, punishment was necessary. And they did it rigorously, without losing sensitivity. That is rare.
Falk finally took off his glasses and left them on the table.
— Moore.
Logan raised his head, his heart racing.
— Today, you went beyond technique. You knew how to master the narrative without distorting it. There is no greater compliment than that coming from me.
Logan nodded, restrained. Inside, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. It was as if every second of sleepless nights, revisions, and doubts had been worth it.
10:10 a.m. – Outside the classroom
Logan and Alicia walked down the hallway. He carried his folder of notes more lightly now.
— Are you going to celebrate? — she asked.
— Maybe. But I think I just want to… call my parents.
— Are you going to tell them you practically won the perfect case?
Logan laughed.
— No. I'm going to tell them I did my best. They'll understand the weight of that.
Alicia smiled.
— And that's why you're Logan Moore.
Chapter 17 – Between Silence and New Beginnings
December 19, 1990 – Harvard Law School, Langdell Library
The stacks of Langdell Hall, usually packed with students, were now strangely silent. The campus, emptied by the arrival of the end-of-year holidays, seemed to breathe more slowly. Harvard was quieter. More human. Footsteps echoed. Pages turned more clearly.
Logan, dressed in a navy blue sweater and dark jeans, was immersed in notes on Federal Criminal Procedure. Not out of obligation the exams had ended two days ago but out of routine. For him, studying was no longer a duty; it was almost a breathing habit.
Thomas entered silently, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. He set one down next to Logan without saying a word. He simply pulled out a chair.
"What are you reviewing now?" Thomas asked, after taking a sip.
"Federal criminal procedure and constitutional exceptions in undercover investigations," Logan replied, without looking up. "I know classes don't start until January, but… I want to go into the semester with a sharp mind."
Thomas nodded, leaning back in his chair. "You're going to find a flaw in the Supreme Court's protocols if you keep this up."
"That wouldn't be a bad idea," Logan replied with a slight smile. "Maybe they need a fresh set of eyes."
December 20 – Thomas's Apartment, Cambridge
Thomas's house had a certain warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the student residences. It was a semi-detached house, inherited from a distant aunt, where Thomas had lived since the second semester of his freshman year. The place smelled of old wood and roasted coffee, and there was always soft classical music playing on the record player.
"My mom sent cookies," Thomas said, tossing a can on the kitchen table. "And she said you need to eat more."
Logan, sitting with his book open, raised an eyebrow.
"I eat well. I just don't have time to invent elaborate meals."
"Yeah, your 'well' consists of peanut butter sandwiches three times a day."
"And protein bars," Logan corrected, with a sarcastic smile.
They both laughed.
The apartment, as simple as it was, had become a refuge for Logan. Christmas was approaching and, once again, he wouldn't be able to return to New York. But this time, he had accepted Thomas's offer without hesitation. It wasn't just a matter of saving money. It was affection. It was knowing that, even though he was far from home, he wasn't alone.
December 24 – Christmas Eve
The fireplace in Thomas's house crackled vigorously. Margaret, Thomas's mother, was making hot chocolate in the kitchen, while George, his father, adjusted the lights on the small makeshift Christmas tree in the corner of the living room.
Logan watched everything with a mixture of gratitude and melancholy. He missed his parents. But the warm presence of Thomas's family filled that void a little.
"Logan," George called, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad you decided to spend Christmas with us. You're practically family now."
Logan smiled, his eyes slightly teary.
"Thank you, Mr. Moore. I wouldn't know where else I'd rather be today."
"Call me George, please."
Margaret appeared with a tray of freshly baked cookies.
"So, our future prosecutor?" she joked. "Have you decided whether you're going to put corrupt politicians in jail or international terrorists?"
Logan laughed, taking a cookie.
"If it's up to my area of focus, maybe a little bit of both."
Thomas appeared with two glasses of non-alcoholic cider.
"Cheers," he said. "To the end of the most exhausting semester yet. And the beginning of something even crazier."
— Amen — Logan added, raising his glass.
The toast clinked softly.
December 28th – Rainy Night, Study Room
In the improvised study room in the apartment, Logan wrote in his personal notebook. He had kept this notebook since high school — it wasn't a diary, but a repository of thoughts, striking phrases, thesis ideas.
"Between guilt and forgiveness, there is Law. Not to choose sides, but to prevent chaos from winning."
He closed the notebook. The sound of the rain outside rocked the night.
"You know," Thomas said, entering the room with a glass of water, "sometimes I wonder if you really sleep or just hibernate among penal codes."
Logan laughed, resting his chin on his hands.
"Studying... calms me down. Gives me direction."
Thomas sat down across from him.
"I understand. But don't forget to live, too."
There was a brief silence. Logan looked at him sincerely.
"I'm learning this. With you. With your family. This here... is life too."
Thomas smiled, touched.
"That's good. Because you're part of it now."
January 5, 1991 – Return to Campus
The snow had already painted the campus white. Students were starting to return, carrying suitcases, new books, renewed hopes.
Logan and Thomas walked side by side down the hallway on the second floor of Austin Hall. Now enrolled in classes like Advanced Criminal Litigation, Surveillance Law, and National Security: Case Studies, the intensity promised to double.
"Did you read the article Professor Bellington recommended?" Logan asked, adjusting his backpack.
"I did, but half of the references were classified. I think I made up about five conspiracy theories just trying to understand it."
Logan laughed out loud.
"Welcome to the world of National Security."
They entered the room together. The new journey began. And Logan Moore, now more mature, more focused, knew: the road ahead would be difficult, but he was ready.
Because he no longer carried the weight alone.
And now, he was starting to build not just a career but a legacy.
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