Chapter 25: Day in Court
Finally, it was a time for Wulf Gott’s big day in court! Television, the newspapers, magazines and the internet all buzzed about the trial, and Wulf Gott was vilified everywhere. There was some talk of the rampant crime in the city, and how ‘at least he had tried to do something about it’, but mostly it was a big attack on the youth for killing two wonderful black youths!
Plastered on web pages were the youthful photos of Rasha and Demoan, photos at least ten years old, from their early high school days. Nothing was said of their long prison records, their multiple felonies- they were two disadvantaged youths, cut down by a white racist just because they were black. Much was made of the loss of these two, who would undoubtedly have made great contributions to society if only they had not been killed!
Wulf was led into court, and stood sullenly glaring at the black woman judge. She was obese, and insolent to the extreme; a career politician of the Democratic machine. Like Detective Gibbons, and indeed like most black “civil servants”, she blamed all the ills of her race on whites. Even now, when there were vastly more blacks in the city than whites, they blamed the whites. And, if the day ever comes when there is not one single white person left- they will still blame them- for everything!
The trial started out with the judge, Ramona Washington, lecturing Wulf and his attorney on what she intended to do to the defendant, who she already labeled as guilty! Most of the people in the courtroom were black, and Black Lives Matter rabble-rousers were demonstrating outside, alongside the Black Panther Party. It was obvious that there would be riots erupting either way the trial went, but much worse if the youth was acquitted on anything at all, even if he were found innocent of shooting the officer on the horse. That officer had come out and spoken again and again about the shooting, saying it had not been the white youth, but the black one who had shot him. But still, the blacks and liberal media insisted on terming it a “triple murder”, despite all evidence to the contrary.
Wulf looked about the room, seeing all of the angry faces twisted into leers of hatred, and only vaguely listened to the fat woman judge who lectured him about his “racism, white privilege, and his hate crimes”. He quickly decided that everyone there was mad; he had explained that he had killed the blacks because they had killed the wife of his friend. To these decadent dwellers in a civilization that was rapidly sinking into savagery, such an explanation enraged them. The youth stood facing them all, a figure of elemental, clean-limbed health and power, and the very contrast between what they knew themselves to be, sick and malnourished, both of body and mind, made them want to destroy him all the more.
Crowds of protestors were pushing against the wall of police officers that were lined up to protect the proceedings, but most were not trying too hard, and it appeared to be only a matter of time until chaos ensued and they would storm to where Wulf stood to tear him limb from limb.
Wulf looked over to where his lawyer, Wes Parker, Trina and Jafiro all sat, his small coterie of supporters. They looked sad and frightened, already slumped in defeat. On the other side sat his grandmother, Nora Gott, right next to the yellowish detective Gibbons. Both had their eyes fixed on him in triumph, like ghouls about to devour a soul.
Wulf reached up to where his blue/green amulet gleamed on his neck, and clasped it tightly.
It was as if a light went out! Just like that, it was black as the space between the stars, and utter panic ensued. Fighting broke out, and revolvers were fired in panic by the police as they were attacked. No one could see a thing, no one, that is, except the youthful defendant, who could see clearly through the enchantment within his amulet. Never before had he asked anything of his true grandfather, Akula, back in the Indian lands of the North- but now, in his hour of greatest need, he had done so. And Akula had answered, as he had known he would!
He moved like a blaze of light amidst the darkness, rushing across the floor to where stood his friends. Taking Trina by the hand, and gripping Jafiro by the shoulder tightly, he guided them rapidly through the milling, thrashing crowd. Dazed and confused, they willingly let themselves be led through the utter darkness. Three wraiths slipped along through the shadows, dodging people where they could, or else Wulf would push some violently out of the way when necessary. And finally, they were outside of the building, and outside it was as dark as it was inside.
A pair of headlights came rapidly up, and the door was flung open. “Nikan!” expostulated the young barbarian, as he recognized him. “My brother! Take us away from this evil land!” He quickly loaded Trina and Jafiro into the back seat, and got in the front next to his old friend Nikan.
“I am overjoyed to see you, Wulf my brother,” said his Indian comrade. And with that, they were off, speeding into the “night-that-drowned-the-light-of-day”, which is what Nikan called it. “Akula sends word that this mighty magic is his most powerful, and will not last long. We must make haste away!” The big sedan they were driving had a powerful engine, and Nikan called on every last bit of horsepower as they sped down those city streets. They were just leaving the north side of the city when the light of the sun returned, blinking back on as suddenly as it had vanished. They kept on driving north.