The many trials of life

Trials, what a strange phenomenon when you step back and really analyze it. For all of my life I just accepted the trial process as a normal part of life.

If you messed up, you stood in front of a judge and received your punishment, just like when you were a kid and you stood ready to be judged by your parents when you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Viewing a trial as an adult, my perspective on the matter changed drastically.

Several men lined up, all dressed in the same single color outfits that resembled sinister versions of the typical nursing uniforms.

A bailiff, with a self important air about him, stood watch, taking orders from a judge wearing an outdated robe.

I didn’t really listen much to what was being said. I was too much in awe of what was going on around me.

These men in important positions, were about to decide the fate of another fellow human being. They had been afforded the authority to choose the next step in these men’s lives.

The first man on trial stepped to a microphone and made a few statements, answered a few questions, and then was silent.

The important people made a few statements and then the man was taken off.

Let me clarify something quickly.

My schedule, 6 courses, commuting to Tampa from Orlando 4 days a week, and working on the weekend, did not allow me to attend a trial in person, but fortunately I was able to watch one online. It was set at the Orange County Clerk of Courts in downtown Orlando.

I had been there before, but only for traffic matters.

Watching this awkward situation, I realized how fortunate I had been to this point in my life that I had never been forced to stand there awaiting my fate.

After the words were expressed and whatever decision was made, the first man walked off and another proceeded to step up to the podium.

As the next man began to speak, I couldn’t help but wonder where the first man was headed.

I thought back to a previous field trip to the Hillsborough County jail. I recalled vividly the row of prisoners, clad in orange jumpsuits, being escorted down a lonely, sterile hallway, as our group of free students bared witness.

Would that man be filing in line with the others?

It is a strange thing that we have given ourselves the ability to pass judgment upon one another. I don’t think that I would feel justified to stand in judgment of another. What makes that judge better than the man whom he had just condemned to a prison sentence?

This, along with all of the other experiences that I have been a part of this semester, have changed me as a person, for the better. I will take these moments and learn from them. I will remember how precious life and freedom are and just how quickly the two can be taken away.