Then Judge Belken rises again, and the Bailiff proclaims the customary prayer:  "O God the fount of justice and of honor, mayest Thou give Thy wisdom and justice to this Court, and peace and truth to all who are here.  Amen."

(Telador is a secular nation, which is why this prayer is not any longer or more specific - it's designed to be unobjectionable to most people.

Not to everyone, of course.  Just last month, the Telador Senate received yet another petition to change it from the Materialists' League.  It was rejected, just like the previous seventeen petitions:  most citizens agree it's actually important to ask God for wisdom and justice, and even those who don't admit it won't do any harm or keep anyone from bringing cases in Court.)

Then Judge Belken sits once more, and says himself, "May those who have business before this honorable Court come forward."

Morell rises and steps forward.  "I, Morell Kender, a person and citizen of Sarkoris, do indict and cite Geryl Turlon of Telador before this his Court on the charge of theft, to wit, destruction of property."

Geryl (who'd been expecting this even before getting the official notice the day before yesterday) also rises, and bows before the Court because it's his nation's court.  "I reserve my plea."

"Bill your plaint."

(In other words, "Lay out the specifics of your complaint."  Telador likes using the more archaic language.)

"Item:  Mr. Turlon and I own rowhouses next to each other with a common wall.

"Item:  On the thirteenth of Foresummer being seven days ago, when I left my rowhouse for work, I left my mostly-complete project - a model plane - on the floor of my sitting room next to my common wall with Mr. Turlon's rowhouse.

"Item:  When I returned that evening, I saw the floor of that side of my sitting room sopping wet, and my Project ruined.

"Item:  Upon expert testimony, I later learned my carpet also to be ruined, and elaborate measures needed to prevent further damage to my house.

"Item:  Upon information and belief, said water was due to overflow from Mr. Turlon's plumbing."

(He's not bothering to say yet that the "information and belief" includes Geryl admitting to it that same evening.  It's not like he expects him to deny it now.)

"Do you take an oath?"

"Upon my honor and with God as my witness, all this is so."

(This is one of the typical forms of legal oath across nations.  It merges a secular pledge upon the individual's honor with a religious pledge to God (specifically to God, not by God).  The concept of someone's honor is typically understood to center on their self-respect and their capacity to hold themself to future pledges, though it also does include reputation.  The pledge "as God is my witness" is historically understood as not calling God to hold to the oath (which many religions hold presumptuous), but as a pledge to God by the speaker's relationship with God.)

(Morell isn't consciously thinking about all this, of course; nor is Judge Belken in the moment.  But this's how this typical oath came about.)

The judge nods.

"As alleged, this is at first light a case of theft.  Mr. Turlon, bill your plea?"

(In other words, Morell has made a prima facie case.) 

"I plead not guilty, grant all his facts, and plead an affirmative defense.

"Item:  I own a cat.

"Item:  On the thirteenth of Foresummer being seven days ago, when I left my rowhouse for work, my cat was confined to my bedroom and, to the best of my knowledge and belief, my plumbing was in good order.

"Item:  When I returned that evening, my cat was loose in the house and the water tap in my kitchen was turned on full blast.

"Item:  I promptly turned said tap off and called expert assistance."

"Do you take an oath?"

"Upon my honor and with God as my witness, all this is so."

Morell doesn't know anything about Geryl's cat or plumbing - well, he saw the cat that evening, and it'd put on an air of perfect innocence.  But he's not objecting.

"I lodge no objection to these facts."

The judge folds his hands and addresses both the litigants and onlookers.  Nothing here should be a surprise even to Morell, who isn't a Televerian - this's standard law across many nations.

"The law of Telador says that at first light, a defendant commits theft if he or his property destroys another person's property.  By undisputed facts, this is the case."

He's glad the facts are undisputed.  He doesn't like it when people dispute the facts and have to call witnesses.  That'd mean someone's blinded by hate, or worse, someone's actually lying.

"We now have two questions:  legal guilt, and civil liability.

"Regarding legal guilt, there is an affirmative defense if the defendant exercised ordinary cautious care of his property - in this case, the cat and tap.  This is a relative standard of common sense as determined by circumstances and subculture, but in general, it can also be determined by precedent.  Do you have particular reason to believe the defendant was not acting with ordinary cautious care?"

* footnote:  Of course, these aren't exact translations.

"No particular reason, sir."

Morell doesn't know either way, and - frankly - he wouldn't know even if he'd been able to watch a video of everything that'd happened.  He doesn't know anything about cats, and he doesn't care to find out.

Judge Belken doesn't have a cat, either, or any other pet.  He doesn't know why anyone would want one.  Apparently they can be fun to watch and play with?  But then, they interfere with things.  Personally, he wouldn't have the least idea what "ordinary cautious care" would be with cats.

Fortunately for him, enough other judges and senators have ruled in the past on what's ordinary and cautious with pets.

"Do either of you have an objection if I rule the defendant was indeed acting with ordinary cautious care?"

He isn't just rhetorically addressing it to both of them.  Just last week, there was a defendant who objected that yes he had been careless.

But this time, Turlon sighs with relief.  "Thank you, sir."

Morell shrugs.  He still doesn't know.  But he's got home insurance, and he figures they might have an opinion if they get involved here?  "No objection, sir, but may I reserve recall rights to my insurer?"

"Very well."

He'd already been assuming as much; he doesn't remember the last homeowner who didn't have an insurance company.

He doesn't expect an objection from them... and if they do object, he thinks he'll be able to shrug off the case to another judge who does know something about cats.

"Then, Mr. Geryl Turlon, you are hereby ruled not guilty under the law of theft.  So may it be done."

He thumps the gavel, and Turlon rises and bobs a bow.

But that's only one of the two questions here.

"The next question is civil liability.  If the defendant is not legally guilty, he is civilly liable if the plaintiff did take ordinary cautious care with his property that got destroyed - the carpet, house, and project.  Said property was inside his home, so very little is required to take reasonable care with it.  Do you have particular reason to believe the plaintiff was not acting with ordinary cautious care?"

"No particular reason, sir," Turlon says, head hanging.  He's not really surprised this was coming, but he was rather hoping he'd somehow escape.  He doesn't like the idea of paying, even though his insurance will be paying maybe half of it.  At least he's been found not guilty, which really does make him feel better.

"But may I reserve recall rights to my insurer?"

"You're really supposed to do that after I ask for objections - but very well.  I take it neither of you have any objections if I rule the plaintiff was indeed acting with ordinary cautious care?"

They both shake their heads.

"Then, Mr. Geryl Turlon, you are hereby ruled civilly liable for the theft of Mr. Kender's property.  Compensation is due, as well as compensation for Mr. Kender's time at the ordinary rate.

"So may it be done."

That's the phrase to declare the case finished.  The bailiff thumps the gavel.

"Particulars of the value of what Mr. Turlon has destroyed may be filed with the clerk; objections to the particulars by either party, or objections by intervening insurers, may be filed under petitions for a new hearing."

(Mr. Kender, as the prevailing party, should recover enough compensation to put him back in the place he was before the theft-by-destruction.  But, he's spent some time and effort getting there - which means, the Ev-ite political philosphers have pointed out, simple compensation would still leave him in a worse place.

(One way of fixing this is to pay him some extra percentage of the value above simple compensation - say, 110% of the value of what was stolen.  This means that he'd get more compensation for his time and effort if something more valuable was stolen.  Some nations do that, arguing that's a fair additional compensation for his worry.

(Other nations, like Telador, disregard the worry and instead argue the prevailing party should just be compensated for their time.  By default, that's a flat fee for an initial hearing like this.  If someone shows that their time is particularly valuable - say, if they're paid by the hour and have a practice of taking on additional hours - then they can petition for a higher fee.)

Morell rises and nods.  "Appreciated, Judge."

Geryl rises and bows.  (It's his nation's court.)

"Very well," he says simply.  He doesn't trust himself to say any more - he's trying to guess how much his insurance will nag at him or maybe even try to raise his rates, and then on top of that he's still feeling ashamed even though it's not like it was a crime.

Then he gathers up his bag and heads back to a seat in the back of the room, to collect his thoughts while watching the next case.

But It's not like either of them are expected to say anything more than they did, of course.  The case has, after all, been closed.

Of course, it's not like the court is over.

The gavel thumps once more, and Judge Belkin says again, "May those who have business before this honorable Court come forward."

A young woman steps forward.

"I, Jenwy Burell, do indict and cite myself before this my Court of the crime and sin of lying, to wit, promise-breaking."

She's not the first or even tenth person Judge Belken's seen indicting herself.

She's a very sincere-looking young person, she's indicting herself, she named it not just a crime but a sin (the law doesn't care about that part), and there's no plaintiff - well, intervener, technically, since Jenwy opened the indictment - who looks ready to stand up against her.  Judge Belken privately lays two-to-one odds this'll be a victimless crime that nobody except Jenwy herself will care about tomorrow.

Still, he doesn't know that.  And even if it is, his role is still to be serious.

"Bill your plaint."

"Item:  On the eighth of Foresummer being one week ago, at my friend Aurelya Moltroy's asking, I promised to come over on the evening of the fourteenth to help with her Project of"

- Jenwy wrinkles her nose -

"- designing new clothes.  For her LARP.

"Item:  On the afternoon of the fourteenth being yesterday, I went to a dance, and as I was enjoying myself, I overstayed through the evening and into the night.

"Item:  At no point did I forget my promise."

"So, I plead guilty of the crime and sin of deceit!"

She holds her head up high, glaring at the judge, challenging him to please do something, because she doesn't have a mirror to glare at herself.

"Do you take an oath?"  It's the form.

"Upon my honor and with God as my witness, all this is so.  And I have no excuses."

That was going to be his next question.  Occasionally, he gets some when he specifically asks for them.

Very well; he'll go on.

"Is Aurelya Moltroy in the court?"

There's no answer until Jenwy responds, "Not to my knowledge."

"How has she responded?"

"She claims it's okay.  She asked me to come help next week, but it sounded more..."  She waves her hand.  "Shorter than normal."

Maybe Jenwy's friend is telling the truth about herself, and Jenwy's reading too much into how she said that one bit.  Or maybe not; Aurelia's not in court and Judge Belken wouldn't want to pry it out of her even if she were.

He's here for Jenwy, who has in fact just accused herself of violating an Aspirational Law.  And she's feeling horrible about it, which is why it was made an Aspirational Law in the first place.

(Aspirational Laws are ones which people aren't in fact expected to keep all the time, but they're expected to aspire to keep.  They're most common among utopian nations which are trying to achieve a particular vision of life.  There, "don't get angry at people" might be an aspirational law - people are going to break it, but they should try not to.

(But other places have aspirational laws too, built around how most people are.  Telador is fairly normal in making an Aspirational Law against lying and promise-breaking.  On the one hand, it's seen as corrosive to trust, which is corrosive to society.  On the other hand, most people do feel horrible when they break it, so it might as well be a formal law.

(The other difference between Aspirational Laws and Non-Aspirational Laws is that the punishment for breaking Aspirational Laws is really lenient, and largely up to the judge's discretion.)

He could just sentence Jenwy to something like an hour's community service, since she isn't making any excuses for herself.  That would probably help by giving her some closure on this.  But he'd rather dig a little more to help more.

"Why did you break your promise?"

She feels so ashamed now.  And she knew at the time she'd feel that way, and she still kept on dancing...

"I was having so much fun dancing, and -"  She glances at the crowd of people listening to her.  She doesn't want to say this to Aurelya, even though Aurelya probably knows it already.  "I just hate sewing and clothesfitting, and I couldn't make myself go do it!"

"Then why'd you make your promise?"

"I..."  She wants to say she doesn't know, but she does.  "I didn't want to let Aurelya down."

(But she did anyway.  She hangs her head.)

Judge Burrell knows that feeling - both what she's talking about, and the shame of failing.  He's seen it a lot before.

What would help her most?  Probably talking about this with a friend or pastor, but he can't tell her to do that.  What would help her somewhat now?  Giving her a sentence that's easy but not too simple, so she can feel that she's made it right.  And ideally, one that might help mend things between her and Aurelya.

(At least, mend things in Jenwy's mind, and maybe mend things with Aurelya too if there really is any tension there outside Jenwy's mind.)

"Which LARP is your friend Aurelya going to?  What would you think about going there with her?"

Oh, is that what the judge's planning to sentence her to?  That'd be... well, it's a lot statelier than she prefers in her LARP's, but still fun...

... and it'd be awkward telling Aurelya about it.  But yes, that'd make things better.

"The Merymont Fest.  And yes -" She nods with a thin smile.  "I'll do it."