The Judge

He walked into the office at a loss for words and a cold sting in his side. He had just saved a life, isn’t that something to be proud of? It was 6p.m. and almost everyone had gone home already. The daylight was starting to dim. He hadn’t eaten since the morning, but at least he still had the sandwich his wife made him. He took his sandwich and stepped out to his usual lunch spot outside. It was really his usual smoking spot, but he needed an excuse to smoke.


He leaned over the balcony, anchoring his elbows on the railing. His heart was cold – it felt like he was being eaten from the inside. He looked at the sandwich his wife made him. There was a note attached to the back that made him smile through the mix of emotions. ‘Have a great day at work, love. You’re my hero,’ it said. “I’m no hero,” he said, as a single tear rolled down his cheek.


“Rough day, Rick?” said a voice from behind him.

He wiped the tear with his hand. “I’ve been better, Kev.”

“You did good today,” said Kevin, perching next to Rick and lighting a cigarette.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“Why’s that?”

“I saved a killer, Kev. Buddy o’ mine read his file. Scott Stone. 33. Convicted o’ manslaughter at 18 and served 15 years in prison. Said he got out a few months ago.”

“You saved a free man. You gave him a third chance at life. That’s a good thing.” He puffed his cigarette.

“He killed a kid. Imagine how her mother feels.”

“Angry?” he puffed again.

“Puttin’ it lightly.”

“Is that the same mother who set his house on fire?”

No response.

“Pain brings out the worst in us,” said Kevin, extinguishing his cigarette. “But does that mean they don’t deserve another chance at life?”

“I don’t know, Kev, I’m not a judge.”

“Neither am I, Rick. Our job is to save lives, and you did that today.”

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