[ WP ] Murder victims can now be brought back to life temporarily for 24 hours to testify in court . You 've now been falsely accused by the dead person whom you 've hated

The body of my mother-in-law, Sharon, lies on a mortician's cart in the front of the courtroom. The reanimation machine sits on a shelf on the cart beneath her. The reanimator stands to one side, waiting for the prosecutor and my public defender to finish their conversation with the judge. I am not nervous. The animosity between Sharon and me is well-known in our little town, but I did not kill her and there is no evidence linking me to her death. When she died, I was driving my ten year old son to a sleepover party. People remember seeing me at the party. Unfortunately, I am still the prime suspect. 
 
 The lawyers and the judge finish their debate. I examine my lawyer's face as he sits beside me. 
 
 `` He's going to grant the motion,'' my lawyer whispers. His suit is worn and he did n't shave today. There is a hint of alcohol on his breath, or perhaps it is his cologne. 
 
 `` I am now going to rule on the prosecution's reanimation request,'' announces the judge. `` We will reanimate the victim for a period no longer than twenty-four hours. Per section 5.4 of the Reanimation Procedures Act, the victim may be questioned by the defense and the state for no longer than two hours of reanimation, after which the victim shall be released to the sheriff to make use of her remaining reanimation as she desires.'' The judge bangs his gavel. 
 
 The reanimator bends over Sharon's corpse and begins inserting needles and hoses into her body. I turn to look at my wife, behind me. *Are you ok? * I mouth silently to her. She grimaces and nods. She is wearing a modest skirt and a wrinkled blouse that she forgot to iron this morning. The wrinkles on her blouse match new wrinkles in her face. *When this is over*, I tell myself, *we should take the kids to the beach for a week. * 
 
 `` I am prepared to begin, your honor.'' says the reanimator. The judge waves him on and the reanimator flips several switches on the machine. There is a whirring sound and Sharon's chest begins to move. After a moment, she stirs. The reanimator leans over her face and murmurs gently to her. She answers, but I can not hear the words over the whirring of the machine. After a moment, the reanimator adjusts the top of the cart so that Sharon can sit up. And she does. 
 
 I gasp at the shock of seeing this. Like most people, I've seen video of reanimations before. But it is one thing to see a video and another to see your hated mother-in-law sit up after laying dead for two weeks in the morgue. I shudder. 
 
 `` Mrs. Peabody,'' says the judge. She turns her head to look at him. I can see a stitched-up stab wound on her neck. I sense my wife stiffening behind me. This can not be easy for her to see. 
 
 `` Mrs. Peabody,'' the judge continues, `` I am very sorry, but you were killed. This is a court of law and we have reanimated you. How are you feeling?'' 
 
 Sharon looks at her hands, then feels her chest, her stomach. `` I... died?'' she mutters. `` Yes. I died.'' She reaches up to feel her neck but the judge interrupts her. 
 
 `` Mrs. Peabody, I must inform you that we have brought you here today in order to solicit your testimony. We want to ask you about the night of your death. Do you remember that night clearly?'' 
 
 Sharon nods. 
 
 `` Good. Please tell us about the circumstances of your death. Afterwards, the county prosecutor and defense counsel will ask you some clarifying questions. If you do not want to answer, that is your right. When they are finished, you will be free to leave for the remainder of your reanimation period. If you answer clearly, we will be finished quickly and you can make the most of your reanimation.'' 
 
 `` I'm ready,'' she says. She scans the courtroom now. She sees my wife, her daughter, sitting in the gallery. Then she sees me. She gives me a tight smile. It is the same smile she gave me when my wife announced that we were getting married. It is the same smile she gave me when I lost my job. It is the smile that always followed her pointed questions, her overly polite criticisms, her subtle insults. She has been dead for two weeks, but that smile is the same. My face flushes. I clench my fists under the table. *She can not hurt you*, I remind myself, *you did nothing. * 
 
 `` I was having dinner with my daughter Judy,'' she begins. `` We were belatedly celebrating my birthday, just the two of us. Judy ordered the filet, which she always does when I'm paying.'' She gives a little laugh, but no one joins her. 
 
 `` We toasted with champagne, I remember, and Judy gave me a card. From Hallmark, I think.'' I grind my teeth. My wife had spent an hour over that card, trying to find the right words. We could n't afford a gift, she had said, so the card had to be special. Meaningful. A wasted effort, apparently. 
 
 `` How much alcohol did you drink that night?'' asks my lawyer. 
 
 `` Oh, only a few glasses my dear,'' answers Sharon, `` and do n't you worry! I was n't drunk. I can handle my alcohol much better than some men.'' She gives me a pointed glance. 
 
 `` After dinner was over, Judy and I went out to our cars. Judy said goodbye and left, but I wanted to have a smoke.'' Sharon pauses, and her face contorts. I see tears forming in her eyes. *Are they real*, I wonder. 
 
 `` That's... that's when I was attacked.'' She whimpers. `` I was knocked to the ground and punched and kicked. Then it felt like I was punched hard in the neck. I rolled over and I felt like I was drifting away.'' 
 
 `` Did you see the person who attacked you?'' asks the prosecutor. `` Any identifying features on the hands or the face, any distinctive clothing?'' 
 
 `` Oh yes,'' Sharon says, brightening up. She points right at me. `` It was Jim, my worthless son-in-law. I saw his face! He killed me, the bastard!'' 
 
 Behind me, Judy gasps. I sit still in my chair, rigid, unmoving. I can not think. I can not speak. I was with my son at the Carpenters' house. The other kids and parents saw me there. I ate some of Mary Ann Carpenter's apple pie. 
 
 The judge and the prosecutor are watching me. After an eternity, my lawyer jumps to his feet. `` Uh, objection your honor!'' he shouts. 
 
 `` You know there is n't an objection against reanimated testimony,'' the judge says, waving him off. `` Mrs. Peabody is entitled to tell her story.'' 
 
 `` But she's *lying*,'' I protest. `` I was n't there!'' 
 
 Sharon cackles. `` Oh, you were there! You were wearing that awful green jacket and your stupid Yankees cap! I hope you rot in a cell forever! I hope they give you the chair!'' She roars with laughter. 
 
 The judge bangs his gavel and orders the marshals to collect me. My lawyer leans in, `` Do n't worry, we'll beat this. Reanimated testimony is hard to overcome but not impossible. We can deal with this.'' 
 
 I turn and hug my wife as the marshals draw near. Her face is streaked with tears. She clutches at me. 
 
 `` Baby ohmygod what has she done,'' she whispers, `` that bitch. She ca n't leave us alone, she'll never leave us alone. She ca n't let me be happy with you.'' 
 
 `` I know, honey, I know.'' I murmur in her ear. `` This is n't how we planned it. But there's a silver lining!'' 
 
 I look deep into my wife's eyes. Her eyes are grey-blue. They are the same eyes that I've seen every morning for ten years. The same eyes that our son has. `` Do n't worry,'' I say, `` I can beat this. We made sure of it - my alibi is perfect. Everything's going to be alright!'' 
 
 I wipe a tear from her eye before it can fall down her cheek. Her beautiful eyes. The same eyes that watched the blood pooling around her mother, two weeks ago. I feel her hands in mine, tense and hard as rocks, and pull them to my chest. They are the same hands that rocked our son to sleep when he was a baby. They are the same hands that plunged a cheap, $ 5 knife into her mother's neck. 
 
 `` They'll never know that it was you,'' I whisper. 
 
 
 ***** 
 I have more stores at /r/hpcisco7965. If you liked this one, check'em out. 
 
 

