The Director angrily pointed at the audience, who filled every seat in the courtroom, his face red and his hair violently dishevelled.
"Now that we're finally ready. You all…shut up, and only talk or make a sound when it's absolutely necessary. Remember…"
The Director twisted his upper-body, perusing the room, shortly noticing Mr Johnson and Mrs Hollands, previously Mr Johnson, were about to enter the courtroom. He continued, but with a much harsher yet quieter tone.
"Remember, this is supposed to be entertaining for people at home once it finally airs. Do your best, but don't overdo it. Got it!" The Director finished his frantic remarks with a hasty nod before rushing back behind the set and wrapping his arm around the cameraman, obtrusively invading his personal space and clearly ready to whisper demands in his ear.
Mr Johnson and Mrs Hollands finally entered the room, separated by three security guards who guided them to their respective positions within the courtroom. Mr Johnson's eyes were bloodshot, bearing abnormally grey rings. His mouth slightly opened as one of the guards grabbed him by the arm before thrusting him into position.
Mrs Hollands, however, looked as beautiful as ever. Her make-up was finer than ever before and her clothes rather inappropriate for the courtroom. Despite the formal ambience of a courtroom, she ignored that notion entirely; instead, one could have only presumed that she had somewhere to be at the very moment this had all ended. But no one seemed to care.
The judge was no better. While she wore her mandatory black gown and white wig, her face was lavished with an obscene amount of make-up. The redness of her lipstick made her lips pop, and her eyelashes curled so heavily it was difficult to see the true colours of her eyes.
After a powerful flick of her long, graceful hair, she peered over the Director, beginning the session upon seeing the wave of his hand. The Director stared directly into the camera, while the judge took centre stage – something she clearly loved doing. After all, this was her show.
She spoke with a bellowing voice. It sounded posh, intellectual, firm…but by the look on some audience members' faces, it seemed fabricated.
"So…Mr Johnson. Correct me if I am wrong, but I shall lay down the current facts we face. Mr Johnson…you are a drug addict who can't help himself. Is that right?"
Mr Johnson's eyes immediately darted to the ground. His breathing was unsteady and he grabbed his left arm with his right hand, scratching it intensely. He lightly nodded, unable to pick his head back up.
"And am I right in saying that the specific drug in question is heroin?"
Mr Johnson copied the exact motion he had made only moments earlier.
The judge scowled at Mr Johnson. Immediately after, she turned her attention to Mrs Hollands, brandishing a warm smile, her scowl having faded.
"So…Mrs Hollands…Please, feel free to take the floor. Tell us exactly why you are here and want nothing more to do with this man." The judge sniffed imposingly, scanning the audience before giving Mrs Hollands the opportunity to speak. "Feel free to take as long as you need. We are in a court of law, after all, so we must evaluate all of the evidence we can get."
The judge leant forward and put her hands together, offering yet another inviting grin.
Mrs Hollands cleared her throat, wiped her fake tears with her pointy pink nails before starting. "For the past year my relationship with Mr Johnson has been well god awful," Mrs Hollands remarked in her faulty, accent-oriented voice.
She continued accordingly, gaining more and more confidence as she wasn't interrupted. "We have two well beautiful little daughters. The age of free and seven to be exactly." She waved her right hand around, and looked around the room at everyone but Mr Johnson.
As she said this, the big screen on the side of the room suddenly came to life. On it was a live video recording of their two daughters. They both wore pink dresses that mirrored Mrs Hollands' nails. A wave of 'awwws' reverberated around the room, including one coming from the judge herself. Everyone's eyes softened as they laid eyes upon the innocent children.
"Jack…I mean Mr Johnson was never good to me…never." Mrs Hollands began moving and looking around more than she spoke. "I fought I had made a well good choice when I chose to marry him. I can remember the day so well when he proposed to me. It was well beautiful. He took me to our favourite all-you-can-eat, the place of where we first dated, and hid it in one of the little cakes which he knew was my favourite."
She chuckled to herself, wiping some snot that was falling from her nose. "He almost choked on it, bless him. Picked up the wrong piece of cake the idiot."
The Director waved his arms about again, but more frantically this time. Both of his arms fluttered through the air as they moved side-to-side. His sharp eyes pierced Mrs Hollands, prompting her to get back onto topic.
"Right. Then suddenly out of nowhere he became addicted. It made no sense to me. How could you do that to your children? Beats me, dunnit?" She scoffed and looked back to the judge whose smile never left her face.
Mr Johnson suddenly raised his voice, still looking at the ground. "How could you say all of that? After all that I've done for—"
"Mr Johnson, please," the judge harshly interrupted. "You shall have the chance to speak soon. As of now, you may only speak when spoken to. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am," Mr Johnson nervously responded.
"Do you have anything more to say, Mrs Hollands?"
"Well," she froze for a second, her mouth open in an O-shape and exposing her mildly crusty teeth, some of which had make-up speckled across them. "It's just that addiction thing, ennit. If it wasn't for that, our girls would have a well good life right now."
Mr Johnson lifted his head this time, his eyes squeezed and redder than before. "Aren't you going to tell them? You're leaving out the most important part. Surely you can't—"
"Mr Johnson, please. What did I just say?"
"I don't care. She's purposefully leaving out important information. She's always doing things like that. Manipulating the situation so she gets her way—"
"Mr Johnson! Please, have some respect in my courtroom. I will not let you speak such shameful words here." the judge bit her lip, stammering on. "You–You–" she caught a glimpse of Mrs Hollands who was beginning to weep, so she glanced over at the Director, nodding her head toward Mrs Hollands. The Director took note and softly whispered into the ear of the cameraman.
The judge sought to distract people from this subtle act, and so pressed on further. "Look what you have done to her, Mr Johnson. You have made her cry. Now, that can't possibly look good for you, can it?"
Meanwhile, the Director was lavishing in this moment.
"Listen, I want you to keep it on her for now. Get some close-ups. Yes, that's it. Make sure we get some of those real tears." The Director's grin grew uncomfortably. His eyes fixated on Mrs Hollands as though he were hypnotised, but still dished out orders to the cameraman despite being so heavily lost in Mrs Hollands' sadness.
"Now! Back to Mr Johnson for a second…now back to Mrs Hollands. Perfect. Just make sure those shots of Mr Johnson make him look even uglier."
The cameraman confirmed, following every order like a gazelle. His mouth never opened once. He simply did as he was told.
The trial progressed for a little while longer, before Mr Johnson was finally given permission to speak.
His breathing intensified once again and he grabbed the podium tightly in front of him, gritting his teeth in an attempt to manage his manic state.
"I didn't just become an addict. I had a friend…my best friend in fact. You see, we took a trip one day…climbing a mountain – something we always agreed to do once a year together. You know, make sure we stay friends and see each other once in a while…right?" He hastily peered at the people in the audience, looking desperate but hopeless.
No one offered him even a singular glance of sympathy.
Mr Johnson's face creased and he looked back at the judge, her face identical to everyone else's.
"Well," he choked on his saliva before somewhat regaining his composure, "we were climbing this mountain one day…and…and…well, at one point I barged in front of him, just joking that I was going to get to the top of the mountain before him. It was still ages away, but we were just having good fun, you see."
Mr Johnson felt the undying urge to turn to look at the audience once again, but he knew it would only make things worse. He opted to continue, hoping that his story would win not only them but the judge over as well.
"Well, anyway. At one point, a giant rock fell from above…crushing him. He died right in front of my eyes."
Silence hit the room. Not even the judge said a word.
Mr Johnson's eyes were too dry to cry, but you could tell that was the only thing he wanted to do.
The camera, at this moment, was on the audience.
"It should've been me. Every day I feel like I did something wrong. I think about his wife and kids who I let down. I took away the life they had with him." He took a deep breath, sighed and tried to finish. " So you see, after that, I couldn't help but find something to drown my sorrows."
The judge finally intervened, dismissing his story as nothing more than an excuse. "Strong words, Mr Johnson. They truly were." Mr Johnson's eyes widened in shock. "But those excuses won't work on me." Mr Johnson's eyes remained wide, but, this time, for a different reason.
"An addict is an addict, and an addict that harms not only his wife and children…is unforgivable. If it is custody of your kids you want, then I suggest you don't try to justify your addiction any further."
"Justify?" Mr Johnson replied, bewildered.
"Yes, justify. You heard me correctly."
"What do you mean? What else am I supposed to do? Stand here and say nothing? If I did that, then I'd be sure to lose my girls. Besides, they're the ones who forced me to come here and do this." Mr Johnson pointed at the crew, including the Director, who hid to the side of the room.
The judge tried to interject and stop Mr Johnson from continuing his onslaught. "Mr Johnson, I suggest you stop at once. The more you talk, the lower your chance of success here. Remember, your fate is in my—"
"I don't give a shit what you say to me. It's been obvious since I got here: I have no chance of winning in this crap. I only came here to show my girls how much I care about them."
"Mr Johnson—"
"No, no, I'm not finished. I'm going to say what needs to be said." He turned around, sticking out his index finger and harshly pointing it toward everyone he could see while spinning around slowly. "You…You…All of you…You're taking advantage of me…of my situation. You're using my ex-wife here as an instrument to make me look like a cruel, heartless fool."
Some from the audience smiled; some of their faces grew from enjoyment; others looked increasingly uncomfortable.
Mr Johnson realised that the Director was one of those who took a liking to his rant. "Look at him. Look! He's enjoying all of this. Why the hell are you smiling like that?"
Despite the confronting words, the Director didn't budge. He glared menacingly toward Mr Johnson, hoping that his face would enrage him all the more and force his outburst to persist.
"This is going to make great television," he muttered to himself, licking his lips.
Again, the judge tried to restore order. This time, however, she was stopped by the Director, something she rarely let happen. Mr Johnson consequently carried on.
"My addiction isn't something to laugh at. You shouldn't be finding enjoyment out of my mental struggles. All you're doing is making it worse…you're digging my grave further and further. Shouldn't someone be trying to help me instead?"
Mrs Hollands didn't make a sound, nor did anyone else. They all just watched Mr Johnson as he looked back at them, pacing his eyes around the room hoping someone would stand up and finally take his side.
Nothing.
He was met with an empty reception for the second time.
"Screw all of you! I'm going to make sure none of this can go on that stupid channel of yours."
And with that, Mr Johnson plunged into a frantic rage, yelling combinations of swear words which no one had heard before while kicking whatever he could see within a close distance.
This persisted only for about five seconds before the security guards tackled him to the floor as he screamed in agony.
The cameraman finally spoke to the Director with a concerned voice. "He's ruined everything, hasn't he? We can't possibly air any of that, can we?"
The Director stayed oddly calm, keeping his eyes on the ruckus that was unfolding in front of him. "Don't worry, we'll just bleep it out. And if that looks crap, we can always make some sort of highlight reel thing out of it…I don't know, but we'll make it work. We can't possibly miss out on the opportunity of having this in our hands."
The cameraman nodded and went back to focusing on Mr Johnson's apprehension.
The judge reclaimed her spot as the centre of attention as Mr Johnson was carried out of the room. She stood up, hands on her hips and pronounced her judgement with brimming confidence.
"That settles it. It's clear to see that Mr Johnson is unfit to look after or see his daughters for the time being. Therefore, a restraining order shall be put in place for a duration to be decided shortly. Well done, Mrs Hollands, you shall have custody of your two beautiful daughters."
The room erupted with applause, as Mrs Hollands jumped into the air and celebrated unprofessionally.
With that, the Director ushered everyone out of the room, desperate to go and have a cigarette or two outside.
…
Later that night, Mr Johnson died from an overdose.
The episode never aired, but the programme was not cancelled.
A new episode was scheduled for a week's time.
END