Judge George Ashcroft sat in his private chamber reviewing, in his mind, his actions. The law was very clear; everything he had done in respect to the State’s case against Johanson was perfectly legal and ethical. The arrest had problems, the district attorney and the police had both made mistakes. His decision would be supported by any peer review; the fact that he had benefited financially had no bearing on the law.
The judge looked at the account summary on his monitor. The numbered account in the Cayman's could never be traced to him…five hundred thousand dollars…everything he wanted…for his family…was now within his grasp. Thirty-five years, playing it straight, he had managed to save only eighty-six thousand dollars, thirty-five years. It’s true he did spend a lot, but that’s the circles he ran in…and he always struggled to keep up with his high rolling friends, now he finally had what he deserved…what he deserved.
Everything he had done was legal, that’s the thing about our judicial system. Select a desired outcome and even an average legal authority can find the laws to make it so…make it legal.
The judge turned off his computer and straightened his desk. The soft white puffy flesh on his face wore a frown as he glanced at the photos on his wall. Photos of a young graduate, full of life, that was going to make the world right…a better place…well, the family was waiting…they had a great trip planned this weekend…besides everything he had done for Johanson was legal.As he reached to turn out his desk light, he caught a glimpse of his face in the window. The light from below shining upward, creating an odd shadowing on his pale features. An evil countenance…it was legal, but it wasn’t right. He stared into eyes that looked guilty, eyes he had seen before, but not on him, no from people in his courtroom…the criminals he had locked away…he turned out the light.