The prisoner stared contemptuously at the ceiling as the long list of indictments was read out. His thoughts must have wandered because he didn’t hear the question, the first time that the special prosecutor addressed him.

“Mr Flavius, I repeat, we would prefer to question you on only one incident. Is this acceptable to you?”

“Yeah, sure. I didn’t do none of those things anyway.”

The prosecutor called for the lights to be dimmed and shortly afterwards the glow of a video projector illuminated the courtroom. There on the screen, a younger leaner Flavius could be seen punching and kicking a now all too familiar figure. Presently, Flavius placed a cloth bag over the man’s head and he could clearly be heard taunting the man while a fellow soldier struck him at random with a heavy wooden rod.

As soon as the lights returned, Flavius cried out, “I don’t understand. How did you get them pictures? There wasn’t no one else with us!”

The prosecutor smiled. It was not the first time a prisoner had expressed outrage at being caught on camera. “Mr Flavius, you would not believe how much footage we have of you. Torture, murder, receipt of bribes, all faithfully recorded in vivid colour.”

“Doesn’t matter, like, does it? I mean, he was only a Jew, human filth. You should have seen some of the…” Flavius realised suddenly that he was ranting, that his words had not gone down well with the members of the tribunal. Hastily he continued, “Anyhow, I was only following orders.”

“Mr Flavius, please inform the court which officer ordered you to blindfold your victim and then bludgeon him? We would like his name, please. I should remind you that we have extensive video footage. Who instructed you to rip the beard off his face? Whose idea was it to knee him in the groin so that he writhed in agony on the floor?”

“I … I can’t remember. It seemed like a good idea at the time. People called him a prophet, you see, so we thought we would have some fun and hit him while he couldn’t see. Then he could show off by saying who it was. Only he didn’t say a word.”

“Let’s move on,” interrupted the prosecutor, disgust written all over his face. “You were present at the execution, I understand.”

“Yeah, that’s right. We strung him up with a couple of murderers. Good, clean job it was. Drew quite a crowd.”

“And did anything strike you as unusual?”

“Now that you mention it, there was something odd. Normally when a man is hanging there, you can hardly hear yourself think with all the screaming and cursing that goes on. But not this bloke. He was dead quiet. Said a couple of stupid things about forgiving his enemies and of course he called on his god. They all do that, for all the good it does them. Funny enough, it really affected my captain. He went all religious afterwards and he upped and left the army. Never could understand it myself.”

“Thank you, Mr Flavius. I think that we have heard enough. It was been noted that you have shown absolutely no remorse with regard to your actions in this sordid affair. I don’t think that there is any question that the death penalty will be upheld.”

In horror the soldier threw himself at the prosecutor’s feet, “I don’t understand. I thought that when I awoke it was like I was being given a second chance. You can’t kill me all over again.”

“I assure you, Mr Flavius,” replied the special prosecutor, “it’s much worse. Man is destined once to die, after that to face judgment. The fires of hell await you, even at this moment.”

“No, no, it’s not fair. I didn’t understand … it wasn’t only me. Gaius was there as well - he was the one with the cosh. Why isn’t he on trial as well?”

“Your friend Gaius has received a full pardon. I am informed that you were both at Caesarea when the offer was made. Gaius made a full confession of his crimes and he agreed to follow the Master. I further understand that you derided your friend at the time and that your words were to the effect that ‘who would believe such a load of nonsense from a Jew?’”

“Alright, I repent, that’s what you want, isn’t it?” By this time Flavius was lying prostrate on the floor. “I’m begging for forgiveness. I’ll acknowledge him – he’s the Lord, yeah, Jesus is Lord. Okay?”

“I’m very sorry,” came the reply as the prosecutor turned to leave the courtroom. “You are too late. You met the Son of God face to face and you chose only to brutalise and ridicule him. Even then, he held out to you the offer of forgiveness but you closed your ears. The time for repentance is long past.”

The ex-soldier lay on the floor of the empty courtroom, a lone bailiff standing over him. “He is Lord,” came the pathetic whimper, “Jesus truly is Lord. I have been such a fool.”

Gregory Kane
(c) July 2004