DUE PROCESS

"Hello?"

Rory heard a voice.

"Hellooo...?"

The voice repeated and Rory felt a hand on his shoulder.

He stirred and opened his eyes. He was lying on his back, looking up at a ceiling; there was a young woman leaning over him.

"Oh good, there you are... Finally!" she said and dropped her hand.

Rory didn't recognize her, but she spoke as if he should. Startled and confused, he tried abruptly to sit up but a sharp, ache began drumming in his head, forcing him to lie back down and close his eyes again.

What the fuck happened? Where am I?

Ugh! I feel like complete crap!

I'm must be hungover.

But I don't remember drinking…

"Where am I?" He voiced aloud. He tried to look around but the lights on the ceiling were extremely bright. Reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, he scrunched his eyes, trying to shut them out.

"You're in waiting." The woman answered.

A waiting room?

How did I end up in a hospital?

Rory opened his eyes again, this time shielding them from the light with his hand. The woman sat next to him, patiently; just watching him. He noticed then that she wasn't wearing any medical clothing, like scrubs or a lab coat. She was wearing a grey suit jacket, with a white blouse underneath and a file folder on her lap.

That is definitely not a nurse… or doctor.

Now, even more confused, Rory pushed past the pain in his head and sat all the way up. The woman in the suit put her hand back on his shoulder, keeping him from teetering.

"Take it easy. You'll need a few moments to recalibrate." She spoke, in a polite, pleasant voice.

Rory rested his hands on his knees as he looked around the room. He realized that he was sitting on a wooden bench that lined the entire wall of the room. Two of the other walls also had wooden benches but were empty. In fact, he and the woman were the only two people around. Realizing that he was not in a hospital, he became anxious.

Where am I?

Wait a minute…

He took another quick look around, slowly recognizing it even though he hadn't been there in some time: he was sitting in the lobby of the local courthouse.

Oh, fuck.

That's never good.

The woman in the suit spoke, "How about you come with me Mr. Shephard, and I can answer all your questions. There are also a few things we need to go over and make clear." She stood then and paused, waiting for Rory to do the same.

She knows my name?

Still a bit wobbly, he slowly got to his feet and followed the woman as she crossed the room, leading them to a door. They entered a small, rectangular room, with a hardwood table positioned in the center; it was of identical shape as the room, only smaller. A symmetrical three-foot gap separated all four edges of the table from the walls, making equal seating available anywhere, on any side. The only door in or out was the one they had come through.

Rory became even more anxious. He had only been in a room like this once before; it was for people and their lawyers to go over cases before seeing a judge.

"Please, sit." She motioned to the chair closest to the one she chose for herself. Rory, extremely hesitant, approached the table and lowered himself into the chair, keeping his eyes on the woman. They both sat along the same edge of the table, their chairs slightly angled towards the other. The woman opened her file folder on the table and began shuffling papers about.

Rory took this minute to look her over again, trying to figure out who she was. He could see her now from a better perspective. She was wearing a grey pencil skirt that matched her jacket; her shoes were black and shiny with a small heel; her blonde hair was pulled back, into a simple bun. He noticed she had kind, green eyes and her features were soft and feminine. Rory guessed she couldn't have been more than thirty. But aside from the clothing, there was nothing; no necklace, no earrings; there were no rings on her fingers, or even nail polish. There were absolutely no embellishments, or frills of any kind; she looked simple yet official and professional.

A lawyer?

This is REALLY not good.

A pit formed in his gut, and his headache still lingered.

The woman finished moving her papers, and had now turned all her attention towards Rory, "So, Mr. Shephard. Let's start with any questions you may have, which I'm sure is a lot. I will answer them to the extent that I am able." She folded her hands neatly on her lap, "Ask away."

Starting with the basics, he asked, "Who are you? And what's going on?"

"Well, Mr. Shephard, my name is Rachel, I am your counselor. As for where you are, you are in-between, waiting to be Sentenced." she replied sweetly, as if talking to a child.

His stomach instantly sank.

Sentenced?

Now panicking, "What! Why? What was I arrested for!?"

Putting her hands up as if to slow him down, she quickly assured, "No, no, you're not in trouble, and you haven't been arrested for anything."

Oh, thank God.

He sighed in relief and relaxed slightly.

Wait, but then why the fuck?

"Then why am I at the courthouse? And why do I have a counselor?" Rory's head throbbed painfully. He pinched the bridge of his nose again, squeezing his eyes shut, "And why does my head feel like it's splitting in half?"

"Well, as I said before, you are waiting to be Sentenced. This is the next step for you, or more specifically, your soul, immediately following your death."

"My death?" Rory opened his eyes in surprise, then squinted skeptically.

This has to be some type of joke.

"Yes, Mr. Shephard, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but you are in fact, dead." Rachel said, sympathetically. With a hand over her heart she added, "My condolences."

Dead?

Rory scoffed, "Yeah, I'm sure. But seriously though, what the hell is going on?"

"Unfortunately, I am being completely serious."

"Oh yeah," Rory rolled his eyes, "I bet you're being dead serious, aren't you?" he mocked her. He often made light of situations with sarcasm, but this was getting to be too much. "Look lady, I'm not in the mood for jokes or pranks or whatever this is, okay? My head feels like a split watermelon over here, so how about you just cut the shit and tell me what the fuck is going on!"

But Rachel sat silent, looking at him, no inkling of humor in her face at all.

He took a long look back into her eyes.

Holy shit.

I don't think she's joking.

"You're not joking?"

Rachel slowly shook her head, "No, unfortunately I'm not. As for the headache, your death must have involved head-trauma, it's fairly common." Watching Rory digest all this information, she braced herself for the always inevitable hysterics that come after telling someone they're dead, but he sat completely silent.

I'm dead.

I'm really fucking dead.

My life is over.

Literally over.

Done.

Rory looked down at himself. He was wearing his usual black hoodie, shirt, jeans and black boots. He looked completely fine and normal. He felt completely fine and normal.

Why do I look so normal?

Shouldn't I look like…whatever dead looks like?

I should be freaking out about this.

Shouldn't I?

But I just feel…relieved?

It sank in that the life he never asked for, and did not particularly enjoy, was now over. He had always wondered what being dead would be like- and now he was.

He began to feel as if a weight was lifting off him.

Is this really a bad thing?

Rory thought through the cons of being dead.

Mom will miss me, I bet.

The thought made him a bit melancholy.

But time heals all wounds, or whatever, right?

It's not like he would miss anyone; he favored darkness, and even reveled in solidarity.

He made up his mind: this was for the best.

Rory nodded slowly, "Okay."

"Okay?" Rachel repeated, "That's it? Just Okay?"

"Yep, that's it. So now what?"

She looked at him skeptically, sure he would become hysterical at any moment, but he didn't. Now she was the hesitant one, side-eyeing him cautiously before continuing, "Now we discuss your case. It's my job to clear up any confusion an ensure you are thoroughly informed. Then you will go before the judge and he will Sentence your soul forwards."

Rory raised his eyebrows in surprise, "You mean heaven and hell and all that stuff?! Its actually real?"

"Yes, to an extent." She replied.

He looked around confused, "Okay, then why aren't we like floating in the clouds or something? Why the courthouse? Why is everything so… normal?"

Clearing her throat, Rachel straightened up in her chair, "Let me explain a bit more. You see, death can be a bit overwhelming to some, so I," she gestured to herself, "and all this," gesturing around them, "is different for everyone. All souls go through the same process but in a way that is understandable for them, individually. Therefore, Sentencing takes shape as somewhere different for each person. To you, I am a counselor in a courthouse, whereas to a child, I could be a teacher in a classroom. Someone across the world would have someone of their ethnicity explain things to them in their native language, their place being in their own country. Do you see what I mean?" She paused and looked at Rory to see if he was catching on.

He nodded slowly, letting her know he was somewhat keeping up.

Rachel continued, "More often than not, people see a religious figure in a church or whatever aligns with their faith." She glanced over at her papers, picking one up, "However, it says here that you do not have faith in any specific religion, so you are in a non-faith-based location, talking to a non-faith-based figure. You will best understand the post-life procedure this way."

Rory looked around and summarized just to be sure, "So this is my own place? And you are my own person?"

Rachel nodded, "Yes, that is why there is no one here but the two of us."

Rory brought his left elbow up to rest on the table, rubbing the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "Okay, I think I'm getting this." He said, nodding, "So going back to my question from earlier: what now?"

Rachel put her hands on the file she had brought with her, "This is your LifeFile, Mr. Shephard. In here is all the crucial information about your time on Earth. It is my job to use this information to make sure your soul is Judged accurately and receives an appropriate Sentence from the Judge."

"The Judge being God, right?" he asked. "And please call me Rory."

"Okay, Rory." Her voice was gentle and patient, "The Judge you will be seeing shortly is for initial Sentencing only. A soul can only go to Heaven or Hell if the initial Judge Sentences you to 'Final Judgement'. At that point, a soul is forwarded to a different place, and is Judged by 'God', who also, appears different to every individual. They are then Sentenced to Heaven or Hell, which, like everything else, is also different to every individual."

"Aaaaand now you've lost me." Rory confessed.

"It sounds complicated, I know. That's only because things are not so black-and-white anymore, so the post-life procedure was reviewed and updated about 500-years-ago. It now accommodates the modern, and more complicated nature of humanity." Rachel took a pamphlet from Rory's LifeFile and handed it to him, "Here, read this."

"What is it?" He asked, leaning forward, taking the paper.

"This pamphlet is a basic breakdown of how souls are handled now." She sat back in her chair.

"Ooooo!" Rory exclaimed with sarcasm, "A paper pamphlet? How modern!"

Rachel ignored his comment, "Just read through it. I will explain more when you are finished and then we will discuss your options."

"My options? You mean, I get choices?" Rory asked surprised.

I'm liking this.

"Just read." Rachel said.

He looked down at the pamphlet in his hands. It was basic, like one he would see at any information center. It was plain white paper with basic black text. Like Rachel, this also had no embellishments or frills.

Written on the front, in bold: CLASSES OF DEATH

Rory opened it, inside the first flap it read:

1) NATURAL

1a. AGED OUT

1b. HEALTH CONDITION

1c. NATURAL DISASTER

Rory opened the second flap, revealing a second list on the inside center fold:

2) UNINTENTIONAL

2a. ACCIDENT

2b. MANSLAUGHTER

To the right, on the inside of the third fold, was:

3) INTENTIONAL

3a. HOMICIDE

3b. SUICIDE

On the outside of the third fold was written:

CLASS 1 DEATHS HAVE THE FOLLOWING OPTIONS:

-REBIRTH TO EARTH

-FINAL JUDGEMENT (INDEFINITE)

CLASS 2 DEATHS HAVE THE FOLLOWING OPTIONS:

-RETURN TO EARTH (TEMPORARY)

-FINAL JUDGEMENT (INDEFINITE)

CLASS 3 DEATHS HAVE THE FOLLOWING OPTIONS:

-RETURN TO EARTH (TEMPORARY)

-REMAIN ON EARTH (INDEFINITE)

Rory reread the entire pamphlet once more, to be sure he didn't miss anything. "Okay," he said, setting the pamphlet back down on the table, "All done."

Rachel smiled, "Perfect! I must say Rory, you are taking this a lot better than most. I've had people in tears at one mention of the 'D word'. I'm impressed."

"What can I say- I was born for this!" he joked sadistically, smirking, "I mean, there's no point in fighting it, right? It is what it is, isn't it?" He shrugged, "So, what's next?"

Rachel scooted her chair closer to his so they could both look over the pamphlet. "Let's go over a few of the terms so you understand everything. I like to be thorough." She used her pen to point at the words on the pamphlet as she explained them, "Rebirth is, as you can imagine, exactly what is sounds like: someone dies, and is then reborn again, as a new person. They keep their original soul, though most of them don't remember anything from previous lives. The rebirthing process is quite traumatic and for sanity reasons, it is subconsciously blocked out. Although, I have heard rumors of some who can recall things, sometimes in great detail! Those are some pretty tough souls if you ask me!" she gave an impressed nod.

Rory confirmed, "Yeah, I've heard some stories like that, too." Then curiously asked, "But how painful is it, though? Honestly?"

Rachel widened her eyes, inhaled sharply, and let out a huff, "Well, I've been counselling longer than most and I still look away when a soul is rebirthed! I'll just leave it at that." She shuddered.

Definitely not doing that one then.

Rachel moved on to the next terms, "Okay, so a 'return' and 'remain' are the same in the respect that you are sent back down to Earth but remain dead, those souls become what you understand as ghosts. "

"Ooof!" Rory made a sour face, "So some poor bastard spends a lifetime on Earth, just to die and be sent back? That's rough."

"Yes, but as it states here, a 'return' is temporary. A 'remain' is indefinite."

"Temporary how? Like months? Years?" He asked.

"Souls are typically 'returned' because their lives are considered 'unfinished'. The time it takes to be brought back all depends on the soul, and however long it takes for them to earn a Resentencing." Rachel elaborated.

"How do you earn it?" Rory was curious.

"Every soul's journey is different so I can't give you an answer to that. But lets move on; next is 'remain'. Every soul who dies by their own hand is Sentenced to 'remain'. We call it the 'Suicide Sentence' and it is eternal – those souls can never come back." She hung her head slightly, "Those are the hardest cases for me to deal with. I hate having to tell a soul that they are going right back to the place they had just left. It never goes over well, as you can probably imagine."

"That's just cruel!" Rory exclaimed.

Killing yourself just to get stuck forever in the place you tried to escape?

The sadistic irony was not lost on him.

Now I'm glad I didn't act on any of those suicidal urges...

Or at least, that none of them worked.

I wonder if attempted suicides count toward that sentence?

He didn't ask, not wanting to accidentally out himself and get sent back down to that hell-hole forever.

But what if it's already written in my LifeFile?

"Okay, and the last one: 'Final Judgement'." Rachel took him from his thoughts, the tip of her pen tapping on the word, "'Final Judgment' is what I had summarized a bit earlier. This is where the common 'heaven and hell' comes from. 'Final Judgement' is also indefinite; final stop; all done. Those souls are considered retired and are no longer moved." Rachel explained.

I wonder if Heaven is all clouds and glitter and shit?

Is Hell all fire and demons?

I wonder where I will go?

I haven't done anything terrible, so maybe Heaven?

On the other hand, if Earth was already Hell for me, how bad could Hell really be?

Rory rubbed his hands together, "Ok then, so where am I going?"

"Well, as the pamphlet explains, you only qualify for a Sentence that correlates with the nature, and subsequent classification of your death." Rachel picked up a paper from Rory's LifeFile and read it over, "It says here, that your death was classified as a 3a; you will most likely be Sentenced to 'return'."

Rory quickly flipped to 3a in the pamphlet, "Homicide?!" he repeated, horrified. "You're saying that I was what? Murdered?!" he asked in disbelief.

Rachel double-checked, "Yes, that is what's written in your LifeFile: 3a; homicide. The pamphlet you have doesn't go into gory detail, but it states here: VEHICULAR. Based on my experience, I'd say it was a hit and run."

Hit and run?!

Murdered?!

"Let me see that!" Rory snatched his LifeFile away from Rachel. The first page had his picture and read:

NAME: RORY PARKER SHEPHARD

BIRTH: FEBRUARY 2ND 1988 (ALBERTA, CANADA)

HEIGHT: 5'11"

WEIGHT: 150LBS

HAIR: BLACK

EYES: HAZEL

DEATH: AUGUST 12TH 2015 (ALBERTA, CANADA)

AGE AT DEATH: 27

CLASS OF DEATH: 3A; HOMICIDE; VEHICULAR

"I'm sorry, Rory" Rachel said, "Those are the facts." And slid the LifeFile back to herself.

Rory picked up his pamphlet, "But that means I have no choice but to return?! As a GHOST!?!" He was becoming more upset each second.

I thought that being dead meant that life was over!

Done!

Kaput!

Now I'm being sent back?!

"This is complete BULLSHIT!!!" he exclaimed angrily, standing from his chair.

Rachel knew the hysterics would come at some point, she was just surprised it took this long.

He paced back and forth huffing and puffing.

Rachel tried to reassure him, "Rory, it's going to be okay, please sit d-"

"No! I'm not sitting down! And I'm NOT going back!" Rory was irate.

She tried to be positive for him, "Let me check your file over again and see if there are any other possible Sentences, okay?" Rachel looked through his LifeFile one page after another, saying "Hmmm," to herself and tapping the table with a contemplative finger. She continued reading page after page. "Hmmm," she went again.

Rory sat back down, "Well?!" he asked, impatiently, "What does 'hmmmm' mean?"

After what seemed like forever, Rachel sighed, "Well, Rory, I've looked it over and you only have two options here, but the second one is a long shot and I can't make any promises."

Rory crossed his arms like a petulant child and listened.

"Option one is that you accept your sentence and return to Earth until-"

"No! There is absolutely NO FUCKING way!" Rory shouted.

"Which, of course, you don't want to do." Rachel continued, "Option two is that you ask your death to be reclassified. It's a long shot, but if we can get you reclassified from a 3 to a 2, you could request 'Final Judgement'… if you're eligible."

"Eligible?! What does that even mean, if I'm ELIGIBLE?! I'm fucking DEAD!!! Isn't that eligible enough?! Can't I just move on and be done?! Just Retire me! Please!" He was becoming fed-up with all the technicalities.

This is horse shit!

Rachel tried to explain as optimistically as she could, "Eligibility for Final Judgement depends on your time on Earth; was it complete? Did you do anything meaningful? How did you treat people? Those types of things."

"Okay, So? Am I eligible?" Rory asked desperately.

"Let me look through your LifeFile once more to be sure I didn't miss anything, okay?" Again, after what seemed like forever her face fell and finally, she said, "I'm sorry Rory, it doesn't look very promising. Based on what I see here, I don't believe you would be eligible."

"Why?! What does that mean?!! What did I do wrong?! I never did anything bad to anyone!" Rory was so frustrated he was nearing tears. He dropped his face into his hands.

I'm finally dead, so why can't I just fucking DIE!

Rachel explained, "That's the thing, Rory. There is hardly anything in your file, you barely did anything meaningful- at all! To qualify for Final Judgement a life has to contain meaning, or growth, or selflessness."

Rory continued to bury his face, trying not to cry.

"Look," Rachel said, "It's a long shot based on your file, but you can still try to plead your case to the Judge and ask for a reclassification. He might allow it, but I doubt it."

"That's what I want to do then!" Rory decided, sitting up.

"Alright." She could tell his mind was made up, "Well then, first thing: you need to provide sufficient enough evidence to get yourself moved from a 3a to at least a 2b."

"Evidence? What do you mean by evidence?" Rory asked, looking himself over and checking his pockets.

Rachel explained, "Rory, evidence comes in the form of memories. Your LifeFile has the details from your birth to your death. But if you can remember any relevant information about your death, beyond what is stated in your LifeFile, any minute details of your last moments, that may have been missed during documentation; we can present it to the Judge."

"Remember my death? I can do that." He said confidently, "I…" He tried to think, "I was…"

What was I doing?

Unexpectedly stumped, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his hand on his temples. He was determined to remember, to prove Rachel and his stupid LifeFile wrong.

I am not going back!

I wasn't murdered!

Then what did happen?!

The throbbing in his head from earlier returned as he rubbed his temples and slowed his breathing, trying to relax. The sound of his heartbeat was pounding so loudly in his ears, it was drowning out any memories he tried to find.

His heartbeat was the only sound he could hear, until slowly, the thumping of his heart was replaced by the thumping of drums.

Music.

"I was listening to music." He recalled aloud.

Just barely, he smelled crisp air.

"I was outside..." his eyes still shut and head down.

Then a taste: cigarettes.

"I was walking... and smoking..." He said, rubbing his temples, straining.

A voice. Paul's voice.

"I went to the store..."

A harsh sound suddenly pierced through his mind, making him wince.

A ringtone.

"My mom called. And I…"

Everything in Rory's mind suddenly turned dark and a harsh wave of pressure and pain shot like lightening from his head to his toes.

"AHH!" Rory yelled.

Rachel who had been watching him in his efforts became concerned, "What is it? What's happening?"

"IT HURTS!" squeezing his head between his hands.

She tried to coach him through, "What hurts, Rory?"

The pain was coursing through his veins, consuming his whole body and only growing stronger with every second, "MY HEAD! MY WHOLE DAMN BODY! EVERYTHING HURTS!" He grunted through gritted teeth, doubled over, both cradling and crushing his head in his hands.

"Rory? Rory, can you see anything? Try and remember what you saw. Look around for a clue. Anything." She encouraged.

Rory tried to slow his breathing and focus through the pain. It was agony.

"Oh my GOD! It hurts SO FUCKING BAD!" he exclaimed.

"It's ok, Rory. Try to breathe. Try to relax. Try to look, Rory, LOOK!" Rachel continued. She wanted to do all she could to help him, not only was it her job to, but because she wanted to.

Rory used all his energy to focus. His writhing lessened; his breathing deepened.

A metallic taste filled his mouth.

Blood.

He saw flash of colorful light.

Red and blue.

Another image.

Pavement.

A sensation.

Movement.

Then it was over. The next image he saw was Rachel's face, leaning over him in the waiting room. The pain slowly faded, as he began to feel the calm creeping back in his mind.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, exhausted and panting.

"Did you remember anything?" Rachel asked, gently. "Rory? Did you see anything?"

Rory slowly put the chaotic pieces together in his mind so he could translate them to Rachel, "I felt pressure, and pain, and pavement. I was hit by a vehicle, yes."

"Hit and run," Rachel said quietly.

"No," Rory disagreed, "No! I saw lights! Lights of a cop car or an ambulance! And I felt myself being moved! By first responders, I think. The person who hit me must have called 911 for help! They called for help, so it was just an accident! I know it was!" Rory felt excited about this revelation. "That means it's a….," he quickly checked the pamphlet, "That's a 2! That's a 2 right?!"

"If it was indeed an accident, then yes, that is a class 2; a or b." Rachel felt a bit hopeful for him, though not much. "Okay, Rory, you're sure this is what you want to do?"

Without missing a beat, Rory exclaimed, "Yes! This is what I want to do."

Rachel collected all the papers, squared them neatly and closed the LifeFile. "Alright then. Now here is what's going to happen: I will bring you in to see the initial Judge in a few minutes." She explained, "He will confirm who you are, then ask if you have any objections to your Classification. That's where I come in on your behalf and will do most of the talking after that, got it?"

Rory nodded nervously, a knot beginning to twist in his stomach. This had all been so far from what he expected, and what happens next could be even more so.

"He will then ask for you to present your evidence, that's when you share what you just remembered, okay?" Rachel coached, "The Judge will review it for himself to determine if it is enough to grant you a Reclassification." Rory nodded.

Rachel's face fell, her voice becoming softer and sympathetic, "Look, Rory, I hope this goes well for you, I do, but I don't want you to get your hopes up. Even if you can get moved to a Class 2, the chances that you receive Final Judgement are slim at best. I don't mean to discourage you, but from where I sit, it's my job to counsel you that you only have a sliver of a chance here. Still, a return Sentence isn't so bad. It's only temporary, remember? You will be back for reassessment."

"When?!" he half-asked and half-demanded.

"I'm sorry, Rory, I wish I could give you a definite answer."

"Well, I'm not going back, so it doesn't matter." Rory stated.

"Yes, I know you don't want to but-" Rachel started.

"I am NOT going back." He cut her off, his mind set.

I am not going back.

Ever.

"Alright, then. If that's all you have to say on the matter, there is nothing else to discuss. We can go in front of the Judge now." Rachel stood and straightened her suit and skirt before picking up the LifeFile. Rory stood and followed her as they went out the door. She led him across the waiting room he woke up in, to a tall double door with golden handles. Rachel reached for one to pull it open but paused; she dropped her hand and turned towards Rory, "Are you ready?"

Rory took a deep breath in, held it, and let out a huge sigh. He took a second to adjust his clothes and shake out some of the nerves, though it didn't work, "Yes, I'm ready."

"Okay," Rachel reached for the handle.

A thought suddenly came to Rory, he hadn't given a thought as to how he gets back. "Wait!"

Rachel turned towards him again, this time keeping her grip on the door.

"In case, you know, I go back," he whispered the last two words like they were a curse, "how do I get back? What I mean is, does it hurt? Will I just like fade away?"

She saw the utter worry in his eyes. "The Sentencing is complete when the Judge strikes his gavel. But it won't hurt. I promise." she assured him.

Rory took another deep breath and did a quick nod. Rachel opened the door and she led them in.

Before him, Rory saw that the courtroom was exactly as it had been the last time he saw it in real life. As he followed Rachel up to the podium, he looked left and right at the short rows of pews that lined each side of the room. On either side of the podium were there should be two tables, one for prosecution and one for defense, there was only one for defense. Rachel set the LifeFile on the defense table to the right of the podium and sat down. As she sat, Rory got a full view of the Judge's stand. He gulped and quickly sat down next to her, with his stomach now twisting into triple knots, and indescribable shapes.

A door opened at the front of the room and in walked a balding, old man. He wore a long black robe, black shoes, and glasses. Again, no embellishments or frills. Rory was surprised how normal he looked, like Rachel. But while Rachel looked in her thirties, the Judge looked to be eighty, if not more. He too, had a file in his hands which Rory assumed was another copy of his LifeFile. No clerk or typist followed him as he disappeared behind the Judges stand. Footsteps could be heard tapping on stairs, then the Judge appeared at the top of the mini-tower and sat down. It was just the three of them in the room. Rory gulped again, feeling very on the spot.

The Judge adjusted his glasses and opened his version of the LifeFile, "Ahem," he cleared his throat, "We are here today to discuss the Soul Sentencing of one Mr. Shephard." He glanced over his glasses at Rory, who looked at Rachel. She gave him a slight nudge and motioned for him to step up to the podium.

"Oh!" Rory said and stepped towards the podium, now being directly in front of and below the Judge. It was extremely intimidating, and Rory felt like a child about to be grounded by his parent. "Yes sir, I am Mr. Shephard. Oh! Your Honor!" He corrected, fidgeting his hands, "I meant Your Honor."

The Judge continued, "Mr. Shephard, please confirm your identity by stating your full name and birthdate."

"Um, my name is Rory Parker Shephard; birthday, February 2nd 1988." He spoke awkwardly.

"Mr. Shephard, do you understand why we are here today?" The Judge asked curtly, flipping through pages the same way Rachel had.

Rory tried to clear his throat quietly, "Yes, Your Honor, I do." failing to speak with any semblance of confidence.

"Mr. Shephard, are you aware that your soul is to be Sentenced today?"

Rory looked over at Rachel, who gave him a nod. "Yes, sir- Your Honor! Yes, I do."

"Mr. Shephard, has your counsel informed you of the possible outcomes?" he peered again over his glasses at Rory.

"Um, yes, she has." Rory said. "Your Honor!" He was fidgeting with his hands so bad, he was glad the Judge couldn't see them behind the podium.

The Judge looked through a few more pages before asking, "Mr. Shephard, your death has been documented as a Class 3: homicide by motor vehicle. Do you agree with the facts as they have been documented?"

Rory was about to say 'no' when Rachel stood up and spoke instead, "No, Your Honor."

The Judge repeated, "No?" obviously a bit surprised.

"Your Honor, Mr. Shephard would like to request a Death Reclassification." Rachel said. Rory noted how professional she sounded and was glad she was doing this part for him.

"Mr. Shephard, is this correct?" The Judge asked.

"Yes, Your Honor." Rory confirmed.

The Judge took off his glasses and set them on his stand. "And what does Mr. Shephard have to support this request?"

Rory looked at Rachel, and Rachel looked at The Judge, "Mr. Shephard claims he saw First Responders on scene at the time of his death. He asks that this information change his Death to Class 2: accidental or manslaughter. He is seeking Final Judgement, Your Honor."

Damn, she's good.

"And Mr. Shephard has visual confirmation of this?" the Judge glanced to Rory, then back to Rachel.

"Yes, Your Honor, he claims he does."

The Judge and Rachel both turned towards Rory now.

"Mr. Shephard, would you please share the evidence in question."

Rory looked at Rachel, unsure what to do now.

Rachel stepped next to him and said, "Try to remember what happened? Find it again and bring it to your mind." She then gently took Rory's right hand and pressed it flat onto the top of the podium. The Judge also took his own hand and placed it flat on the stand in front of himself.

How is this going to?

"How do I-" He tried to ask Rachel but she hushed him, putting a single finger to her lips, then tapped her temple, telling him to stay quiet and focus on remembering.

Okay.

I can do this.

Just remember….

Rory closed his eyes and felt a warming sensation under his palm as he began flipping through the memories from earlier, trying to make a complete picture for the Judge. Music, cigarettes, store, phone, pain, pavement, lights, movement.

Got it!

The warming sensation cooled and he opened his eyes. The Judge removed his hand; following his lead, Rory removed his hand as well but instead of putting it down he stared at his palm.

Did I just get my mind read?

The Judge said, "Let me review this evidence over for a moment."

Rory returned to fidgeting. He waited, silently pleading for the Judge to side with him.

After what seemed like an hours, the Judge spoke, "I have reviewed your evidence Mr. Shephard, but I do not believe that it supports your request."

"What?!" Rory blurted out, stunned. "But-"

Rachel kicked him gently with her black heel, reminding him to remain respectful, "I'm sorry, Your Honor. What Mr. Shephard is trying to ask is for clarification on why his evidence is unsupportive."

The Judge leaned forward, displeased with Rory's little outburst, "Mr. Shephard, I saw no First Responders in what you have presented."

Rory countered, "Did you see the lights? That was a police car. And the movement was me being put in an ambulance. I know it!" He was desperate.

The Judge elaborated, "Mr. Shephard, I understand how you want me to look at this, to see it as you do. But I did not see visual confirmation of First Responders or Police. I heard no sirens and unfortunately, I cannot reclassify a death based on colorful lights. Even with the movement, there is simply not enough here. Request denied."

Rory's jaw hung open in disbelief and denial. He speechless and looked to Rachel for any help.

She only shook her head. "I'm sorry, Rory. I tried. Hopefully I'll see you soon, okay?"

But?

No!

He's wrong!

The Judge put his glasses back on and continued, "Mr. Shephard, your death will remain a Class 3a: homicide and your Sentencing will be decided on that basis."

No!

The Judge sat up straight, "Rory Parker Shephard…"

NO! NO! NO!

"After reviewing your LifeFile and cause of death, I hereby Sentence your soul to return to Earth until you have become eligible for Final Judgement, at which point you will return here for Reassessment." The Judge raised his gavel, "Case closed until further notice!" He brought his gavel down.

"NO!!!" Rory screamed as

BANG!

Everything went black for the second time.