Chapter 32: Sincerity Is the Ultimate Weapon

As the trial time approached, the nine judges filed into the courtroom one after another.

Because this was a major criminal case, there were six lay judges—commonly known as "jurors"—in addition to the three professional judges.

In theory, in the courts of the East Island nation, if five of the six jurors returned a "not guilty" verdict, the defendant would be acquitted, even if every professional judge believed them to be guilty. Conversely, if even one professional judge insisted on "not guilty," the verdict would remain "not guilty," even if all the jurors voted for conviction.

Shiraishi personally felt that the jury system had both advantages and disadvantages. After all, jurors were ordinary people, and their values often differed significantly from those of the judges.

According to his own statistical models, Shiraishi believed a benefit was that sentencing for heinous crimes committed by minors had become more severe, as lay jurors generally did not approve of leniency for minors. Of course, there were drawbacks as well; most notably, lay jurors tended to view narcotics-related crimes with excessive leniency.

Naturally, these labels of "good" or "bad" were merely Shiraishi’s own subjective judgments. He did not presume to represent the law or the truth; they were simply his own personal opinions.

Most of the time, however, jurors did not raise any objections to the professional judges' decisions.

But with the public outcry surrounding this particular case, the jurors' opinions were of critical importance.

While Shiraishi was lost in thought...

*Thump, thump.*

The elderly presiding judge, before even officially opening the session, rapped his gavel and gestured toward Shiraishi, who was sitting at the very back. "That gentleman, please sit down. We are about to begin."

Shiraishi: "..."

Shiraishi stood up, then sat back down again.

Presiding Judge: "..."

Realizing that Shiraishi had actually been sitting the entire time, the judge was startled. He gave a dry cough and said, "Ahem. Very well... the court is now in session!"

The proceedings followed the standard process. The prosecution presented the charges and evidence, then called witnesses to the stand, allowing the defense attorney an opportunity for "cross-examination."

Komikado lived up to his reputation as a "great defender." His logic was razor-sharp, and his rhetoric was highly inflammatory. He denied and refuted every one of the prosecution's unsubstantiated speculations—and his arguments sounded quite reasonable. At the very least, the jurors—and perhaps even the professional judges—found themselves somewhat persuaded.

Indeed, claims like "the defendant said, 'I'm going to kill him'" could not be considered hard evidence. Shiraishi accepted this line of defense.

These "second-rate pieces of evidence" were essentially dismantled one by one, and soon it was time for the real "hand-to-hand combat."

Komikado began his counterattack, using "police coercion" as his fulcrum.

"Your Honors, please look at this record. Is it not a remarkable coincidence that the surveillance in the interrogation room suddenly broke down while the defendant, Mr. Tsubokura, was being questioned?"

"Objection! That is merely a coincidence. Surveillance equipment can malfunction at any time!"

Achiya Takafumi was not prepared to concede; prosecutors were always notoriously stubborn on this point.

"Is that so? Then let us continue... This is the testimony record provided earlier by the prosecution from the officers involved. These young officers claimed they did not hear any unusual noise and that the day was very quiet. Unfortunately, that is impossible. I suspect the police station must have been quite noisy that day," Komikado stated with certainty.

"Objection! This is merely the defense's subjective speculation!" Achiya continued to stand his ground.

The presiding judge interjected, "Defense counsel, why do you believe that?"

"The reason is simple. For those few days, the police station was undergoing renovations. Every office and every room had its door frames replaced. Everyone can look at this gentleman—our new Chief of the Beika Precinct, a hero who bravely fights against organized crime. When he walked into the courtroom just now, he had to do this..."

As he spoke, Komikado mimicked a bowing, ducking posture—the way Shiraishi indeed had to enter most rooms, as the door frames were simply too low and narrow.

In this parallel world, the East Island courts allowed defense attorneys to walk around the courtroom and use body language, provided the presiding judge did not object.

Everyone turned to look at Shiraishi. It was reasonable—incredibly reasonable.

Shiraishi: "..."

Right. Shiraishi recalled that the station had indeed been "noisy" for a few days a week prior, primarily because of the door frame renovations. Now, they were all quite spacious.

After all, on his first day as Chief, Shiraishi had "ducked" through every office to introduce himself. Seeing that, anyone with eyes could see the door frames needed fixing.

"So... for those days, when Chief Shiraishi had just taken office, the station was undergoing extensive door frame renovations. This lasted for three days, including the very day the interrogation results were finalized. To claim it was 'very quiet' in the station at that time is, without a doubt... a lie!" Komikado's reasoning was impeccable.

Shiraishi had previously instructed the personnel involved to testify honestly. In fact, the Beika Precinct had already acknowledged the accusations in this regard, though the prosecution had not adopted that stance, choosing instead to submit the original, "stubborn" testimony. Shiraishi wore a stern expression at this.

By comparison, perhaps out of a desire to avoid further complications, Komikado—while overall quite arrogant—had intentionally or unintentionally thrown Shiraishi a lifeline by emphasizing that he had only just taken office.

Sure enough, after Komikado finished, the public gallery and even the jurors began whispering among themselves.

The presiding judge rapped his gavel. "Order! Order!"

Komikado then requested that Shirai be brought to the stand. This had been requested previously, and Shirai was already in the witness waiting room. However, Prosecutor Achiya, who had likely sensed that Shirai’s state of mind was compromised, had hoped to keep him off the stand.

Under Komikado’s relentless pressure, the judge ordered the witness, Shirai, to be brought in.

To Komikado's surprise, however...

"I admit that improper interrogation techniques were used that day. The department has already disciplined me for this, and I intend to resign voluntarily after this case concludes!" Shirai’s opening statement caught both the prosecution and the defense completely off guard.

Achiya Takafumi tried to stop him, but it was too late.

Shiraishi looked surprised. He had instructed Shirai to tell the truth, but he had never told him to resign!

Shiraishi had even intended to pull some strings and transfer him to a less demanding department.

After all, the man was nearing retirement. He had been a criminal investigator for decades. Whether or not he had finished his career honorably was one thing, but his pension was a significant sum.

In the East Island nation, pensions were primarily paid as a lump sum upon retirement. At Shirai’s rank, he could expect twenty or thirty million yen, which was his security for old age. If he resigned now, he would get nothing. As for the standard social insurance, it wouldn't even cover the cost of a basic meal.

Shiraishi supported progress, and he supported the departure of the "remnants of the old era," but he did not support them leaving without their pensions. After all, the income of a frontline detective was not proportional to their sacrifices; the only "advantage" was the higher pension.

In any profession, it was normal for people in their fifties or sixties to become outdated. But to be forced into destitution after becoming obsolete not only damaged the morale of their peers but also undermined the dignity of the profession.

Several reporters, having heard the opening, ducked their heads and scrambled out of the courtroom—they were off to break the news immediately.

"However, regarding this case, I will proceed with my testimony. The first interrogation of the defendant took place on September 5th..."

Shirai began to recount the facts of the case related to the interrogation.

Komikado interrupted, "Objection. Please wait, Inspector Shirai. Your testimony today was primarily requested regarding your improper interrogation. Since the newly appointed Chief Shiraishi has already disciplined you, I believe the court can move to the next phase. You may step down and rest..."

"Objection overruled," the judge reminded Komikado. Since the testimony concerned the interrogation, Shirai was theoretically allowed to continue.

"Thank you, Your Honor..." Shirai offered his thanks and resumed his testimony.

This time, Shirai held nothing back, recounting the interrogation process and the numerous suspicious points regarding the defendant with a calm and sincere demeanor.