01-20-2019, 08:52 PM
The cavernous, wooden-panelled room was a relic from the apex of the former Papal States of Sanctaria, but the Old Courthouse in Nicene was the perfect venue for the Truth and Reconciliation Commission's hearings and judgements. Nicene, the capital of the Sanctarian state of Galvium, was an old port city, and one of the largest within the Divine Federation. Legend has it that it was at Nicene the first Patriarch of the Sanctarian Catholic Church, Julius, landed and began would would be a millenium-long dominance of the western Hespian continent. In the twenty-first century, however, the city would instead of birthing a warmongering theocratic state, would seek to resolve peace within a far off state in the region of the International Democratic Union.
Chosen for this task by the Group Special Envoy, Robert Smyth, was Sylvia Churcher, an experienced Sanctarian jurist. Many court reporters called her firm but compassionate, but Churcher's love was for facts. She understood the important of proportional responses, but to find out the facts was her main priority. It made her a natural choice for the role of Chief Judge of the Commission.
The stage was set. The adjudicator was in position. And the players were here too. At noon exactly, the courtroom doors were opened by bailiffs of the Sanctarian Court System, on secondment to the Commission. Parties from both sides of the conflict were seated amongst each other in the audience gallery, while the tables normally reserved for the prosecution and defence were empty; between them stood a strongly built, solid wood podium, something usually missing from a courtroom. Empty too was the imposing bench at which the Chief Judge would sit. Below sat the Clerk of the Commission, who, at 15 minutes past the hour, rose and solemnly declared "Oh yea, Oh yea. All rise for the Right Honorable, the Chief Judge Sylvia Chucher CLR, presiding judge of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission". The scrapes of chairs against floors was high-pitched and slightly painful to those with sensitive hearing, but all parties obliged. Not yet was the time for grandstanding, many of them thought.
Churcher walked slowly to her chair with its overview of the entire room. At 69, Churcher wasn't necessarily old, but she had been looking forward to her retirement before being called back to the bench for this final adjudication. Her brown eyes were dark, impenetrable pools of wisdom, and her poker face was second to none. This would not be an easy judge for the participants to read. Taking her seat, she nodded to the Clerk who ordered all present to sit down, and then began the proceedings.
"The Rt. Hon. Chief Judge Churcher requests those who have business before the court to approach the podium and submit their grievances for the resolution of the court. Parties shall be called in order to submit, briefly, who they represent, and what party they claim to have grievances with. No arguments shall be presented at this time, the court simply requires the aggrieved name, the alleged aggressor's name, and a brief summation of the grievance in question. Alleged aggressors may be both state and non-state actors. I invite the provision government of Lauchenoiria to begin". The Clerk a seat, and Churcher took up her pen, eagerly anticipating the beginning of what she hoped would be the final conclusion to the Lauchenoirian conflict.
Chosen for this task by the Group Special Envoy, Robert Smyth, was Sylvia Churcher, an experienced Sanctarian jurist. Many court reporters called her firm but compassionate, but Churcher's love was for facts. She understood the important of proportional responses, but to find out the facts was her main priority. It made her a natural choice for the role of Chief Judge of the Commission.
The stage was set. The adjudicator was in position. And the players were here too. At noon exactly, the courtroom doors were opened by bailiffs of the Sanctarian Court System, on secondment to the Commission. Parties from both sides of the conflict were seated amongst each other in the audience gallery, while the tables normally reserved for the prosecution and defence were empty; between them stood a strongly built, solid wood podium, something usually missing from a courtroom. Empty too was the imposing bench at which the Chief Judge would sit. Below sat the Clerk of the Commission, who, at 15 minutes past the hour, rose and solemnly declared "Oh yea, Oh yea. All rise for the Right Honorable, the Chief Judge Sylvia Chucher CLR, presiding judge of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission". The scrapes of chairs against floors was high-pitched and slightly painful to those with sensitive hearing, but all parties obliged. Not yet was the time for grandstanding, many of them thought.
Churcher walked slowly to her chair with its overview of the entire room. At 69, Churcher wasn't necessarily old, but she had been looking forward to her retirement before being called back to the bench for this final adjudication. Her brown eyes were dark, impenetrable pools of wisdom, and her poker face was second to none. This would not be an easy judge for the participants to read. Taking her seat, she nodded to the Clerk who ordered all present to sit down, and then began the proceedings.
"The Rt. Hon. Chief Judge Churcher requests those who have business before the court to approach the podium and submit their grievances for the resolution of the court. Parties shall be called in order to submit, briefly, who they represent, and what party they claim to have grievances with. No arguments shall be presented at this time, the court simply requires the aggrieved name, the alleged aggressor's name, and a brief summation of the grievance in question. Alleged aggressors may be both state and non-state actors. I invite the provision government of Lauchenoiria to begin". The Clerk a seat, and Churcher took up her pen, eagerly anticipating the beginning of what she hoped would be the final conclusion to the Lauchenoirian conflict.
