CHAPTER FIVE
EVREN
I was standing at the courtroom door, taking one last look at the files in my hand. It was three minutes to ten o'clock. While checking the files without paying attention to the conversations, I looked up from the files at the longing moan of Hakan's mother, Yeşim.
Hakan Yılmaz came over to us, unshackled and accompanied by the gendarmes, and winked at his mother and father. His mother Yeşim and father Ömer looked at the expressionless gendarmes flanking their son Hakan, and I turned my gaze back to the files.
Hakan leaned toward his mother and father and said, trying to keep his voice low, "Don't worry. Mr. Arısoy will take care of it, nothing will happen." His sarcasm made it clear that he didn't care much about the hearing he was about to enter.
As my eyes continued to scan the file, the court clerk came out of the courtroom and shouted in a loud voice. "Istanbul 7th High Criminal Court, Case 2025/112, defendant Hakan Yılmaz! Parties, enter the courtroom!"
I closed the file at the clerk's voice and looked up. Yeşim and Ömer looked at me hopefully as Hakan entered, guided by the gendarmes, and we followed him. The press members present at the hearing were already in their seats, and those who had come to watch had filled the courtroom. When they saw Hakan standing in the middle of the gendarmes, whispers began in the room.
We walked toward the table, and as I placed my bag on the floor and the files on the table, the door opened again. The short, stocky court clerk, with his sharp face, weary expression, and loud voice, shouted again in his booming voice. "The court is entering, please rise!"
As the press and spectators stood up, the president and two judges in their black robes entered, followed by the public prosecutor. They walked to the podium and took their seats one by one, and the prosecutor also went to his seat.
The judge sat down, adjusted his robe, and glanced around the courtroom. His eyes first found the press, then the audience, and then me. After a momentary scan, he said, "You may be seated. I call the hearing open." With the judge's announcement, everyone sat down. When Hakan sat down, the gendarmes stepped aside, and as I sat down in my chair, I noticed Hakan smiling at me without drawing attention. The judge spoke again as he arranged the files in front of him on the podium. "Case number 2025/112. A public case has been brought against the defendant, Hakan Yılmaz, for causing death by negligence. The defendant is present, the defense attorney is present, the prosecutor is present. The hearing continues."
The prosecutor looked at me, and I looked back at him.
It was normal for there to be so many spectators and members of the press in the courtroom because this man next to me, Hakan Yılmaz, was the only son of factory owners Yeşim and Ömer Yılmaz. The latest incident involving this wealthy heir, who was constantly in the headlines, was that he had killed a man by hitting him with his car.
After the accident caused by their sons, Yeşim and Ömer Yılmaz came to my law office and practically begged me to represent Hakan. The Arısoy Law Office was, of course, quite famous in Istanbul's high society circles, so it would have been foolish for them to go to anyone else. They laid a generous sum of money before me and asked me to do everything I could to save their son.
They knew I had lost almost no cases and what I was capable of.
They trusted me with all their hearts.
I had to force myself not to smile when I heard the judge's voice and took my eyes off the prosecutor. "Public prosecutor, present your opinion on the merits of the case."
The prosecutor stood up and, after shuffling the papers in front of him, fixed his eyes on Hakan for a second. When he looked at my client, I also looked at Hakan and leaned slightly toward him, whispering, "Control your facial expressions."
Hakan nodded slightly. As the prosecutor's eyes returned to the file in front of him, his deep voice filled the courtroom. "Your Honor, on the night of March 23, 2025, at 2:15 a.m., the defendant, Hakan Yılmaz, was driving at 130 kilometers per hour on Barbaros Boulevard in Beşiktaş when he ran a red light and struck Muhsin Karaca, who was crossing the street, causing his death."
As the people in the courtroom looked at each other, the prosecutor continued speaking. "The crime scene investigation report found that the skid marks were 45 meters long and that the vehicle's speedometer was stuck at 130 km/h. The Forensic Medicine Institute report confirms these findings. Furthermore, tests conducted after the incident showed that the defendant had a blood alcohol level of 0.25 promille.
The forensic computing report determined that the camera recordings presented in favor of the defendant had been tampered with. Therefore, the false evidence cannot be taken into consideration."
Even though I listened to the prosecutor's speech, my eyes were on the papers in front of me. I could sense that Hakan, despite the accusations he was hearing next to me, sat with a relaxed body language. The prosecutor fixed his eyes on Hakan and continued his speech.
"The victim's family has been compensated by the defendant's family and has withdrawn its complaints. However, the public prosecution continues in accordance with CPC 223."
With the press members stirring, small whispers began among the audience. Hakan glanced at his family as the prosecutor finished his words. "It is clear that the defendant is fully at fault. Pursuant to Article 85/1 of the Turkish Penal Code, imprisonment of two to six years is envisaged. I request that the lower limit be exceeded, that a five-year prison sentence be imposed, and that the defendant's driver's license be revoked under Article 53 of the Turkish Penal Code."
As the prosecutor took his seat, murmurs rose in the courtroom. The judge turned to me. "I give the floor to the defendant's counsel. Go ahead, Attorney Evren Arısoy."
At the judge's direction, I slowly stood up. As I pulled one of the papers in front of me aside, everyone in the courtroom fell silent and looked at me. I parted my lips calmly and began to speak clearly. "Your Honor, I would first like to state that there is an irreparable loss here. A person has lost their life. Nothing can ease the pain of the victim. However, it is this court's duty to decide based on evidence and the law, not on anger or revenge."
The prosecutor kept his eyes fixed on me, while Hakan listened with great ease. I continued. "Now, let's examine the evidence in the case file one by one.
First, the speed determination... The prosecution has presented the speedometer stuck at 130 kilometers per hour as absolute proof of speed. However, the expert report clearly states: 'The speedometer needle locking at the moment of impact is not a definitive indicator of speed.' In modern vehicles, electronic systems can cause the needle to freeze at the wrong point due to the force of the impact. So, the needle may have been stuck at 130, but that doesn't mean the actual speed was 130.'"
I was looking at the judge and the court panel, but I was aware that the prosecutor's eyes were on me. I continued to speak calmly, without compromising my attitude. "Let's get to the skid mark report. It is said that there is a 45-meter skid mark. However, it has been determined that the ground at the scene was slippery and the slope was three percent downhill. Under these conditions, such a skid mark could be formed even at a speed of 90 kilometers per hour. So there is no certainty about the speed."
I paused for a few seconds, pulled the witness statements in front of me, fixed my eyes on the court panel, and continued speaking with the same calmness. "Now let's look at the witnesses. Witness Mr. Ahmet says the car was 'flying'. But he saw it 40 meters away from the incident, in the dark of night, under half-burnt street lamps. Measuring speed cannot be based on an emotional statement. It must be based on technical evidence.
Another witness, Mrs. Çetin, says, "The vehicle was driving normally, but it ran a red light." So one says it was fast, the other says it wasn't. The contradiction is clear."
I felt Hakan shaking his leg excitedly, but without looking at him, I turned my eyes for a moment to the prosecutor looking at me from under his furrowed brow and continued speaking. "As for the camera recordings... Yes, it is alleged that they have been tampered with. But completely disregarding these recordings does not remove the doubt in favor of the defendant. CPC 217 is very clear: "The judge shall base his decision only on the evidence discussed in court." These records have been discussed, and contradictions have been revealed. In this case, the principle of "benefit of the doubt" applies."
I pushed the papers aside and, focusing entirely on the panel, gestured lightly toward Hakan standing beside me to conclude. "My client, Hakan Yılmaz, is young and has no criminal record. After the accident, he and his family reached out to the victim's family, compensated them for all damages, and shared their grief. Yes, there was a mistake. Yes, there was negligence. But this negligence cannot be equated with intent."
There was some commotion in the courtroom, but the judge banged his gavel to silence everyone. "I am not asking the court for acquittal, but for justice. I request that my client receive the minimum sentence under Article 85/1 of the Turkish Penal Code and that the possibilities of a suspended sentence and postponement of the pronouncement of the sentence be considered."
As I finished my speech and sat down, I saw Ömer, who was sitting among the audience, quickly nodding his head in agreement. When the audience began talking again after my speech ended, murmurs rose once more in the courtroom. As the press members also began talking among themselves, the judge banged his gavel again and addressed those in the courtroom in a deep voice. "Silence!"
As the sounds in the courtroom slowly died down, the judge lowered his gaze to the papers in front of him. "The witnesses will be heard. Court clerk, call the first witness."
The court clerk announced in a loud voice. "Witness Ahmet Güngör!"
At the clerk's call, Ahmet Güngör, an elderly man in his seventies wearing a suit, entered the room. He slowly approached the stand and, likely nervous about testifying for the first time, looked first at the judge, then at the prosecutor, and then at me.
Without looking at him, the judge said, "For identification purposes, please state your first name, last name, date of birth, and occupation." The elderly man clasped his hands nervously in front of him.
"My name is Ahmet Güngör, I was born in 1954, and I am retired."
Hearing the old man's slightly tense voice, the judge fixed his gaze on him and asked, "Do you swear on your honor and conscience that you will tell the truth and not lie?"
Ahmet Güngör placed his hand on his chest and said in a determined voice, "Yes, I swear."
The judge nodded to him. "Tell us what happened."
"I was at the intersection that night. The car was going very fast, as if it were flying. The light was red, but it didn't stop. It ran over that poor man."
Shuffling through the papers in the file, I asked him without looking at him, "Mr. Güngör, how many meters away from the scene were you?"
Ahmet Güngör replied slowly. "Forty, maybe fifty meters."
"Okay, what was the street lighting like?" I asked this time.
Ahmet Güngör replied after a moment's hesitation. "It was dark. Half the lights weren't working."
"So how did you determine the car's speed with certainty from a distance of forty meters in the dark of night?" I asked, again without feeling the need to look at him.
Ahmet Güngör, as if annoyed that I was questioning him, replied in a weary tone, "I felt it. It was going very fast."
I raised my gaze and said in a stern tone, "Your Honor, speed measured by feeling cannot be considered technical evidence."
As the spectators began whispering again, the prosecutor stood up. "But the witness said 'red light'. That alone indicates fault."
"Red light violation, yes, but there is no definitive evidence regarding speed. This directly affects the degree of fault," I replied.
The judge banged his gavel to silence the murmur once more and commanded, "Silence!"
As Ahmet Güngör stepped down from the stand, the court clerk called the next witness. "Witness Melike Çetin!"
Melike Çetin was not as nervous as Ahmet Güngör. She was wearing an ironed shirt and fabric pants. She was in her late forties and had looked at our table first as soon as she entered. After she was brought to the witness stand, the judge again called out to the woman for identity verification.
"For identification purposes, please state your first name, last name, date of birth, and occupation."
"My name is Melike Çetin, I was born in 1981, I am a banker."
"Do you swear on your honor and conscience that you will tell the truth and not lie?"
Melike Çetin also placed her hand on her chest and said in a determined voice, "Yes, I swear."
The judge gestured with his hand. "Proceed."
Melike Çetin stated directly, "I was at the corner. The car was driving normally, but the light was red. He didn't notice the man." The prosecutor stood up.
"So you're saying the light was red." The prosecutor looked at me with satisfaction.
"Yes." When Melike Çetin nodded, I lowered my eyes to the paper in front of me.
"Mrs. Çetin, how long before did you see the light?"
The woman thought for a few seconds in response to my question. "Five to ten seconds before."
"When the car passed, were your eyes on the light or on the car?" I asked this time.
When she replied, "In the light," I nodded.
"Thank you." Signaling that I had no further questions, I put the papers back in the file.
As the woman was being led away from the witness stand, the judge turned to me and waved his hand. "The witnesses have been heard. I give the floor to the defendant."
Hakan stood up, accompanied by the gendarmes, walked up to the stand, and looked at me. I turned my eyes to him. His face showed a firm belief that he would be set free. His body language suggested he thought the trial was a mere formality. Even his tone of voice conveyed the indifference his body revealed. "Your Honor, I wasn't speeding. The road was clear, I didn't notice the red light. It was an accident. We helped the family, there are no complaints. I know I'll be acquitted anyway."
A few people in the courtroom held their breath at Hakan's foolish statement. The prosecutor immediately stood up and asked suspiciously, "You said, 'I know I'll get off.' What does that mean?"
Hakan, as if only now realizing the blunder he had made, replied nervously, "I mean, the family isn't pressing charges, my lawyer will take care of everything."
The judge, displeased with Hakan's attitude, warned him sternly. "Defendant, watch your language."
With the judge's warning, the prosecutor began to corner Hakan. "Your alcohol test came back at 0.25 promille. Your explanation?"
As if he hadn't just made a mistake, Hakan suddenly got angry at the prosecutor's question and snapped back, "I drank three beers, so what? Three beers won't kill anyone!"
Although I continued to watch him without changing my expression, I knew that Yeşim and Ömer were not as calm as I was. Hakan was so convinced that I would somehow get him out of this mess that he forgot he needed to control himself.
I calmly placed my hands on the table and ran my fingers over the file. When people began to talk in surprise at Hakan's angry outburst, the judge banged his gavel again. "Silence!"
Hakan, the darling of high society, accustomed to being fawned over wherever he went, couldn't stand being questioned and accused. For the first time, people of lower status than him were questioning him, and his small ego couldn't handle it. That's why his angry outburst didn't surprise me. "Why was that man there at that hour? Am I going to be the scapegoat? Everyone drives fast!"
I narrowed my eyes at Hakan. I knew the prosecutor was smiling triumphantly across the room.
Hakan's outburst caused another commotion in the courtroom. The press quickly took notes and whispered among themselves, preparing tomorrow's headlines, but the judge's voice cut through the noise. "I'm taking a short break for deliberation."
I stood up with everyone else at the judge's announcement. As the court left, the gendarmes came and moved to take Hakan to the detention center to serve his sentence. As the courtroom emptied, Ömer Yılmaz, who was trying to calm his wife as she shed tears behind her son who was being taken away, turned to me.
"There's no need to worry," he said, as if he were saying it more to himself than to me. "You know what to do. I know we'll get a good result."
He looked at me expectantly, but I said nothing. About fifteen minutes later, the court clerk opened the courtroom door and shouted in a loud voice, "The recess is over, the hearing will continue!"
We returned to the courtroom. With the return of the court panel, everyone stood up again, and when the judge took his seat, everyone rhythmically sat down in their places. The judge first looked at the paper in front of him, then at the courtroom. Hakan, sitting next to me, swayed his leg as if he had no regrets about his earlier angry outburst, and the judge's eyes returned to the file in front of him.
"Since it has been established that the defendant committed the crime of causing death by negligence, he is sentenced to 4 years and 6 months in prison in accordance with Article 85/1 of the Turkish Penal Code. There are no grounds for postponing the sentence. His driver's license is revoked for a period of 2 years in accordance with Article 53 of the Turkish Penal Code. The defendant's current status is maintained, and he is to be detained upon sentencing."
As the judge announced the decision, the court clerk addressed the courtroom in a loud voice. "The verdict has been pronounced!"
Everyone was in shock, while the press stood up excitedly. Yeşim Yılmaz started screaming and crying, causing a great commotion. As the gendarmerie came to handcuff Hakan, he turned to me, seemingly mad with rage.
"What does this mean?! I was going to be acquitted?! Am I going to prison now?"
As the gendarmes approached us, I stood up and slowly moved toward Hakan. The press was going wild, the victim's relatives among the audience were shedding tears of joy, while Yeşim Yılmaz was sobbing. My eyes drifted for a moment to Yeşim and Ömer Yılmaz. Then I turned to the rich snob and leaned close to his ear. Taking advantage of the noise in the room, I whispered in a low, cold, and very hushed voice so only he could hear. "Did you think money could save you from everything?" My voice dripped with venom. I remained impassive; from the outside, it might have looked like I was giving him one last piece of advice. "You're a murderer, you bastard, and you deserve to be inside."
I stood up straight and fixed my cold, hate-filled eyes on Hakan's, his pupils shrinking in shock. He muttered in shock, unable to believe it. "You sold me out..."
I reached out and stroked his arm with a sad expression, whispering again in a low voice. "Good luck in there, you piece of shit."
When the gendarmes arrived, I took a step back. As Hakan began to move angrily, the gendarme grabbed him tightly, handcuffed him, and took him outside. A small smile appeared on my lips, but I was sure no one noticed.
I gathered my things, grabbed my bag, and left the room.
When Yeşim Yılmaz ran over and grabbed my arm, I had to suppress the urge to laugh. I slowly turned to the tearful woman. She looked at me helplessly. "Mr. Arısoy... Please do something. Are we going to leave our son inside for four and a half years?"
Ömer Yılmaz, though not crying like his wife, frowned sternly but hopelessly. "There's an appeal, there's the Supreme Court. We'll pay whatever it costs. Save our child."
Looking at the couple who believed everything could be solved with money, I pursed my lips in sadness. I adopted a mournful tone to restrain the sharpness inside me. "Look... We can file an appeal. But the Regional Court of Appeals, pursuant to Article 280 of the Criminal Procedure Code No. 5271, only intervenes in the discretion of the local court if there is a clear procedural error. There is no such procedural error here. The case proceeded according to procedure, and the evidence was gathered in accordance with the law."
Yeşim Yılmaz looked at me, her eyes sparkling. "But didn't the witnesses contradict each other?"
I opened the file in my hand and pointed to a woman as I continued speaking. "There was a contradiction, yes. But we know from the old Code of Criminal Procedure No. 1412: Contradictions in witness statements are left to the discretion of the judge. There are thousands of Supreme Court decisions on this: 'The discretion belongs to the local court.' The Court of Appeals does not interfere."
Ömer Yılmaz rubbed his face. "What about the Supreme Court? Is there no chance at all?"
I closed the file, took it in my other hand, rubbed my eyes, and took a deep breath. To the pair looking at me hopefully, I said thoughtfully but without offering any hope, "CPC 288 is clear: The Court of Appeals can only overturn a ruling if it is contrary to the law. There is no such thing here. The prosecution, the judge, and the panel all followed the procedure perfectly. According to Supreme Court precedent, this case is considered 'fully proven'. There is no possibility of reversal."
Yeşim Yılmaz trembled as if she was about to start crying again and whispered, "But what if we go to another lawyer? Maybe they'll find a way..."
I narrowed my eyes but immediately corrected my expression. After staring at the corridor floor for a few seconds as if thinking, I turned my gaze back to them. When I spoke with a sharpness that showed I understood them but also made them realize there was no way out, the hope in both their eyes faded. "You don't need to go. Another lawyer will use the same laws. Unless new evidence is produced in the case, it won't change the outcome of the appeal or cassation. According to CPC 217, 'the verdict is based solely on the evidence discussed in court.' These were the pieces of evidence we discussed. A new lawyer can't work miracles."
Ömer Yılmaz staggered as if he had been knocked down. "So this is the end of the road?"
I bowed my head slightly again. "Unfortunately, it seems so. I did everything I could. There's nothing more." I took a deep breath. "What follows is the enforcement process... good behavior reduction, parole... Maybe he'll be out before three years are up. But the legal avenues are exhausted."
Yeşim Yılmaz burst into tears again. As her husband came over and took her in his arms, I murmured sadly, "I wish it were different. But that's how the law works."
Ömer Yılmaz nodded stiffly, indicating he understood me. I said goodbye to them both one last time, turned my back, and started walking toward the elevator.
My lips curled upward on their own as I lifted my arm to see the watch on my wrist, shaking my robe. It was almost half past eleven. I had sent Hakan Yılmaz to prison in just an hour and a half. No one had heard what I said to him, I had appeared to do everything I could in court, and I had prevented the family from appealing to the court of appeals or the Supreme Court. There was no chance that Hakan would complain about me, and even if he did, nothing would come of his complaint.
It was a mistake for him to come to me in the first place. He came to my office, counted out a ton of money for me, and believed that no matter what he did, I could save him from justice.
Of course, he was unaware that he had left his fate in the hands of his executioner.
I opened my bag, took out my silent phone, and called my secretary. When Emel answered on the second ring, I said, "We lost the case."
Emel didn't seem surprised. "What do you want me to do?"
As I got out of the elevator and headed for the courthouse parking lot, I said, "Take the expenses out of the payment made by the Yılmaz family and donate the remaining amount anonymously to the scholarship fund opened for the victim's daughters."
Emel stammered in a shocked tone. "But Mr. Arısoy, the office—"
"It doesn't matter," I cut her off. "I'll cover the necessary shortfalls. Donate the money anonymously to the scholarship fund opened in the name of the deceased's daughters and send flowers anonymously to the deceased's family. Don't use the office name when calling the florist."
"Understood."
I hung up the phone and laughed to myself.
I hated murderers.