Free Miscarriage Of Justice by Bruce A Borders

photos again. The clock was pictured in just the one. But one was enough. In shocked dismay, Mariana dropped the snapshots to the desk. Just what she didn’t need, more proof, Ethan Rafferty, the man she’d prosecuted, was innocent.
    The D.A. couldn’t help thinking what a mess she’d be in if anyone ever got a hold of the photographs, particularly if they could prove the pictures had been in her possession, either presently or prior to the end of the trial. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out the rest of it.
    “I really should get rid of these,” Mariana mused thoughtfully. The photos with their incriminating evidence should have been burned years ago. Some mysterious force, exactly what she didn’t know, had compelled her to keep them, and for some equally inexplicably reason, she had. Like the Grandfather clock she’d purchase shortly after the end of the trial, the pictures served as small mementos of her dubious achievement, a sentimental trophy of her so-called success.
    So, while she knew destroying the pictures was the smartest thing to do, the urge to hang on to the one thing that could potentially end her career, and her life, was too strong. Shrugging, Mariana shoved the pictures back into the envelope, and replaced them in the filing cabinet. The photos had been safe there for years, and it seemed like a good place to keep them.
    “Maybe I’ll show them to someone someday,” she said closing the door.
    The D.A. was well aware that keeping the pictures was a perfect recipe for disaster; like playing with fire, and wondering if she’d get burned, or an escalated version of Russian Roulette. Maybe it was the risk that she loved. That euphoric feeling of continuing to beat the system, even though she herself was a part of that system. Perhaps, in some maniacal or sadistic way, she derived a certain pleasure from knowing that Ethan would give anything to have those snapshots.
    Ethan! Mariana shook her head. There he was in her thoughts again. The guy was quickly becoming a nuisance. She found herself wishing he would actually show up, just so she could have him arrested. Chuckling, she turned out the light in the den. “They say history repeats itself, maybe I could send him back to prison. Then I wouldn’t have anything to worry about.”
    Growing serious once more, the amusement faded and the corners of her mouth turned down into a frown. It would be nice to do that; eliminate any possible future retaliations, but Mariana knew she couldn’t. Not that she felt any qualms over the idea. If it were a viable possibility, she’d have Ethan eliminated in a heartbeat. But it wasn’t. The questions, which would be raised as a result of any hearing, were questions, and answers, she could definitely do without!
    Shrugging indifferently, she walked back to the living room and turned on the TV. This was crazy! The whole idea of being worried over an ex-con was insane. The guy couldn’t do anything if he wanted to. At the worst, he could try complaining, but to whom would he complain? Who would listen? Who would take him seriously? Anyone? The man had no proof, just frivolous accusations. He’d been tried and convicted in a court of law, all legal and just. Sort of. But, like everyone else in America, if he thought the trial had been unfair, he could have filed an appeal. That was his right. Yet, he hadn’t. So, why would anyone believe him now? It would be his word against hers. The word of a convicted criminal, a murderer no less, against that of a well-respected and trusted District Attorney. The Court would obviously side with her in any such dispute—of that, she was certain.
    She knew the possibility still existed that Ethan would target her in some maniacal way, but she doubted it. The guy wasn’t stupid. He knew who she was, the position she held, and knew firsthand what she could do. More than likely, he didn’t want to go another round with her.
    Mariana relaxed a little then, remembering