Unanimous

Going over possible final piece ideas in my head whilst trying to dodge the brown-stained puddles down Camberwell high street, I couldn’t ignore how uninspired I felt with this course and my life. Sometimes it really feels like I have been scammed by going to college and that they are setting me up to fail, or at least a life of debt.

I jumped over the broken step on the crooked stairs of my apartment complex, taking out the folded post in my pigeon-hole as I climbed up to my apartment. As soon as I opened the door and was hit with the heat emulating from the fried sausages from my flatmate in the kitchen, I wished I was back outside in the rain. I ran into my room holding my breath. Amongst the post, I found a brown envelope with confidential written over it; What now? Another bill? Another complaint from my bank about my overdraft? The letter read:

Dear Ms. Florence Hastings,

You are summoned to jury service at Camberwell Magistrates Court on Monday 2nd November 2021.

No response is necessary.

When did I receive this? Why had I not seen it before? I bet it was my useless flatmates, always mistaking my post for theirs and putting it back in my pigeon-hole last minute. Wait… did it say the 2nd? That’s next Monday! To be honest, I am so fed up with this repetitive lifestyle that the thought of a miserable courtroom would be more inspiring than this mouldy flat (which I am pretty sure violates my human rights). I will just do what I always do, sweep my issues and deadlines under the rug and deal with it later. Now, let me get my court outfits ready.

I started to reminisce about my bleak flat on day two of the trial. Honestly, I couldn’t even tell you what it was about. Something to do with white-collar crime and bribery between a lawyer and a consultant. Towards the end of the day, it got a bit more exciting. They showed us holiday pictures of the “business trip” in Barbados where the accused bribery took place. What I would give to just move away for a month or even a week. I need new surroundings and I need to be inspired. I feel so trapped and claustrophobic in grey South London. The day drew to a close and we were told by the Judge that tomorrow would be the day we jurors would discuss and deliberate on the verdict. I mean, I wasn’t paying much attention when the defendant’s representation went into the legalities of the Fraud Act, but anyone could see that they were guilty. I started to think about how I would be back to reality next week. Although this trial has been extremely dull and uneventful, I have appreciated a break from the stress of normality.

On the way up to my apartment that night, I notice a bulging parcel in my pigeon-hole. I don’t remember ordering a package? I double-checked the name and it was definitely addressed to me. I took it to my room, dodging the disgusting odours coming from the kitchen and opened it. Out fell a small black notebook with a symbol engraved in the sleeve. This must be a mistake as I did not order this - although as an art student I could appreciate the perfectly sized pocket sketchbook. Was this a gift? My birthday wasn’t for 5 months. I searched for a card or any indication of who gave this to me and out fell a handwritten note which read as follows:

Dear Ms. Florence Hastings,

Should you complete the task below you will be entitled to keep the financial sum at the back of this book.

Convince all jurors for a non-guilty verdict.

Regards,

I didn’t really take any of this in. I initially thought it was one of my flatmates messing with me after I forgot to clean the kitchen yesterday as promised. But then, at the back of the book, I found $20,000 in cash.

My head began to spin. I couldn’t quite work out what the symbol was at the beginning but with a start, I recall it as the law firms’ logo which they would use in their emails as evidence in our case. How crooked are these lawyers? How did they find my address? All my spiralling questions were silenced when I flicked through the wad of cash in my hands. Maybe this was my way out? I need this money; this can be a fresh start and could open so many opportunities for me. Bribery doesn’t really affect anyone, right? It isn’t my issue; it is just between those two parties. It wasn’t like I was getting a murderer off. I was going to strategize my plan for the deliberations tomorrow.

I had my game plan set and had researched persuasion techniques all night, but I actually managed to vocalize my points and it was worryingly quite easy. Either everyone else got $20,000 too or they simply did not care. I wasn’t complaining though; I had already pictured my new apartment I was going to rent in Paris with those tiny balconies whilst eating croissants every morning.

I couldn’t relax yet though; there was one juror who would not budge. She came across as professional and articulate and she was honestly so disgusted about the nature of the case. She made a huge point about how unethical it was and how we as jurors have to stop this white-collar crime. Who hurt this girl? I started imagining how she must have got dumped by a banker or an Economics student at University and she was using this as her way of therapy. Her points had a lot of value but no one really felt the same energy and anger as her. People just wanted to go home before it got pitch black outside. The day concluded and we had not got a unanimous decision so we had to continue deliberating tomorrow. I came home and wished I was back in the juror room. There was a leak directly above my bed in my room. I had to move out, this environment is affecting my workability and creativity. I had to get a unanimous verdict tomorrow.

The next day, I interrupted the girl who would not budge whilst she was on another ‘eat the rich’ tirade and said “Look, we have been here for two days now; we all have better things to be doing than wasting more of our time on these people. We have responsibilities and I have my course and this isn’t fair on the rest of us. Us giving him a guilty verdict will not benefit any of our lives in any way. Bribery and white-collar crime will still continue so we should just accept this decision and move on. You are outnumbered right now”. She was either upset someone had silenced her for the first time in her life, or she was hurt no one gave her any support or agreement. She nodded her head and did not say another word again. It was as if this money allowed me to unlock this confidence and voice I never knew I had. The power was actually thrilling and I liked it.

We moved back into the courtroom and the trial resumed. I saw the party’s lawyers smile when we came in and saw our faces. It is like they already knew they had got away with it. Almost like we were puppets in their little game. I noticed for the first time that everywhere I looked, everyone looked the same. The CEO of the business, the judge, the lawyers: all white males. I felt sick to my stomach when I realized what I had done. I was just a pawn in this game and the power which I had felt was actually just duress. I went home and put the money in my drawer and had no intention of touching it until this feeling of violation left me.

Ten months down the line and I was still in the same cramped apartment but I had surprisingly had a great academic year which culminated in presenting my final piece at our University’s end of year exhibition. We had recently been told by our course leader that the exhibition will be judged by an independent sponsor and first prize will receive a fully-funded master's course in New York City, so the pressure was on.

I walked around the exhibition and instantly recognized the sponsor’s logo emblazoned on posters all around the hall. It was the law firm from the trial. As in the law firm who wrote to my flat and I took a bribe from. I could feel my thoughts spiralling through my brain. They obviously knew I was here. They already had my name and address, they must have found my University. I gulped loudly as I saw their representatives get on stage to announce the winner. When they announced my name, the sick feeling that I had tried to push under the rug for the past ten months returned, threatening to overpower me. I was greeted by a familiar smile. Although I did not recognize the face of the representative, I could tell that he knew who I was and that again I was being used as a pawn in a wider game that I would never have any real control over.

I wanted to leave it all now. I was taking the first flight out of this life to New York City and I was going to reinvent myself there. I grabbed the $20,000 from my drawer to deposit into a new bank when I landed, packed my bag and headed to the airport. I tried to sleep on the long-haul flight but every time I closed my eyes I could see that familiar smile looming over me, taunting me. My spiralling thoughts paused when we landed. I took a deep breath and reminded myself this is a fresh start. I couldn’t get an Uber as I had used all my battery on the journey, so I called for a cab I and asked to head to East Williamsburg where I had booked a B&B for a couple nights. When I try to hand the driver a $100 bill I realise I hadn’t actually touched any of this money properly, and I notice his eyes brighten up when I pull out the wad of cash.

As soon as the bill touched the driver’s palm he told me it was a fake. I thought he was trying to get me to bring all of my money out again and I felt uncomfortable, so I told him it could not be fake. He said it is common to be given fake bills and that I need to pay up or he is calling the police. I refused. I heard the car doors lock and him dialling 999. I had been so caught up in what freedom the $20,000 could give me and the new life I could build, I had not even contemplated if the money was actually legit. I felt my heart sink as I heard the 999 operator.

I explained everything when I was questioned by the police. They confirmed that all the money I was given was in fact fake and there is no traceable proof it came from the defendant who was on trial or his law firm. They told me they were going to have to send me back to the UK and face criminal proceedings there.

Fast forward one month, I am now serving a one-year sentence in prison for bribery and Contempt of Court. As I look out from behind the bars on the window, I have never wanted anything more than to be back in my mouldy, claustrophobic apartment living my repetitive but comfortable life.