Charles Heath's writing blog

A picture paints ... well, as many words as you like.  For instance:       And, then, the words:   ... How often do we make a judgment call simply on what we see? I knew what I saw, and it looked exactly like a situation that, if you asked any ten others who witnessed it, they would agree with me. And then there would always be one that wouldn't. The prosecution had made a very good case, the defense counsel had woven a brilliant tale from start to finish, and he delivered in an almost persuading tone, with the subliminal message, the defendant was not guilty. I felt sorry for the prosecution because his delivery had been halting, filled with ums and ers and in the end, everyone, from the judge down, wanted it to end. As for the jury, it was an odd assortment of characters, a lawyer, a builder, a plumber, a housewife, two sales staff, two clerks, a janitor, two retirees, and a motor mechanic.  I thought it would be the lawyer who would be the problem.  The trial had lasted 22 days,

I'm back home and this story has been sitting on the back burner for a few months, waiting for some more to be written. The trouble is, there are also other stories to write, and I'm not very good at prioritizing. But, here we are, a few minutes opened up and it didn't take long to get back into the groove. Chasing leads, maybe ... It was all over in the blink of an eye.  The swat team had secured the scene, zip ties, and shoved me into a corner with two burly men standing over me, guns ready in case I tried to escape. Before the next wave, I had time to consider what just happened.  Obviously, Dobbin or Jan had set the scene.  She lied about being able to track Maury, they found him, brought him back to the room, tortured him, and then killed him.  The few seconds I had to look at the body showed signs of intense interrogation. A side benefit was to stitch me up for the crime.  The fact the police were at the door a minute after I’d arrived meant they had been waiting for