Wrongful Conviction

Sweetened dung is shoveled down gluttonous throats with eager appetites for alleged misdeeds skillfully spun into a frenzy of sensationalized hype by media-seasoned reporters. . Seduced by speculation and hearsay, a jury of pseudo-intellectuals assembles neatly with moral turpitude tied smug and tight around rigid white collars stained heavy with sweat and anticipation. She stands alone as the eyes of the court pierce through her appraising her posture and expression while the echo of charges being read dissipates with the smell of type ink and old mahogany. Fragments of truth embellished for shock-value and dramatic effect spill forth as vomit from confessional mouths reeking of rot and fermentation. Vulturous prosecutors rise in fluid motion squawking accusations in expert execution of closing arguments, pecking apart flesh, unconscionably scattering the meaty bones of her defense.