Court is Now in Session_Case016

Case No. 016

The People v. "Just One More Thing."

Court Clerk:

"All rise!"

"This Honourable Court is now in session. The Honourable Justice Commonsense presiding."

Judge:

"Be seated."

"Bailiff, why has the Court received a complaint from someone who claims a conversation was reopened after it had already been concluded?"

Bailiff:

"That is the case before you, My Lord."

"Apparently, the conversation ended properly."

"And then..."

The Bailiff checks his notes.

"...seven minutes later, it resumed."

The Judge looks up.

"Seven minutes?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Bring in the accused."

Court Clerk:

"Case No. 016."

"The People versus 'Just One More Thing.'"

Charge: Unauthorised Conversational Reopening, Premeditated Post-Goodnight Communication, Abuse of the Phrase "Actually", and Attempted Revival of an Adjourned Conversation.

Prosecutor:

"Ready for the People, My Lord."

Counsel:

"Ready for the Defence, My Lord."

Judge:

"Bring in the accused."

The accused enters the courtroom.

It is Mr. Everyman.

The Judge looks at him.

Then at the prosecution.

Then back at the accused.

"You again?"

Mr. Everyman:

"My Lord..."

The Judge raises a hand.

"I do not want to know."

"Proceed."

The Case for the Prosecution

Prosecutor:

"My Lord, this is a case about closure."

The Judge nods.

"Continue."

"The accused was engaged in a perfectly ordinary conversation."

"They spoke."

"They exchanged messages."

"They reached the natural end of the conversation."

"He said goodnight."

"The other party said goodnight."

"The matter was concluded."

The Prosecutor pauses.

"The application was closed."

"The phone was put down."

"Seven minutes passed."

The Prosecutor turns towards the accused.

"And then..."

He pauses.

"...the accused returned."

The Judge looks at Mr. Everyman.

"Why?"

The Prosecutor lifts a document.

"He said one word, My Lord."

The Judge waits.

"Which word?"

The Prosecutor looks at the gallery.

Then back at the Judge.

"Actually..."

The gallery erupts.

Judge:

"Order!"

The Judge looks at the Prosecutor.

"That word has brought us here?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Very well."

"Let us hear what happened."

Exhibit A: The Conversation That Had Ended

The Court Clerk places the transcript before the Bench.

9:14 p.m.

Mr. Everyman:

"Alright then. Have a good night."

Other Party:

"You too. Goodnight."

Mr. Everyman:

"Goodnight."

The Judge nods.

"Clear."

The Prosecutor turns the page.

9:21 p.m.

Mr. Everyman:

"Actually..."

The gallery erupts again.

The Judge bangs the gavel.

"Order!"

"Seven minutes?"

Prosecutor:

"Seven minutes, My Lord."

The Judge looks at the accused.

"What happened during those seven minutes?"

Mr. Everyman:

"I remembered something."

The Judge nods.

"Reasonable."

The Prosecutor immediately rises.

"With respect, My Lord..."

"What?"

"We intend to establish whether he actually remembered something..."

The Prosecutor looks towards the accused.

"...or simply remembered that the conversation had ended."

The gallery murmurs.

The Judge leans forward.

"That is a different matter."

"Proceed."

Exhibit B: The Alleged Important Thing

Prosecutor:

"My Lord, the accused claims that the matter he returned to discuss was important."

The Judge looks at Mr. Everyman.

"Was it?"

Mr. Everyman:

"Yes, My Lord."

"How important?"

A pause.

"Important enough to bring up."

The Judge nods.

"Fair enough."

The Prosecutor approaches.

"Mr. Everyman, if this matter was so important..."

"Why did you not mention it before saying goodnight?"

The accused pauses.

"I did not think of it."

"When did you think of it?"

"After I put my phone down."

"Immediately?"

"Not immediately."

"How long?"

"About five minutes."

"So you remembered it five minutes after the conversation ended?"

"Yes."

The Prosecutor nods.

"And then you waited another two minutes before sending 'Actually...'?"

The accused hesitates.

"Yes."

The Prosecutor smiles.

"So you had seven minutes to decide whether to reopen the conversation."

"I suppose so."

"And you did."

"Yes."

The Prosecutor returns to his seat.

"The People rest on Exhibit B."

The Defence

Counsel:

"My Lord, the prosecution is attempting to criminalise human forgetfulness."

The gallery laughs.

The Judge smiles.

"That would be unfortunate."

Counsel continues.

"People remember things at different times."

"People have thoughts after conversations have ended."

"People suddenly realise that there was something they wanted to say."

"That does not make the reopening of a conversation improper."

"My client did not deceive anyone."

"He did not fabricate an emergency."

"He did not claim there was a crisis."

"He simply remembered something."

The Judge nods.

"A reasonable defence."

Counsel turns towards the accused.

"And when he remembered it, he said so."

"Exactly, My Lord."

"Through the word 'Actually'?"

"Yes."

The Judge looks at the Prosecutor.

"That seems straightforward."

The Prosecutor rises.

"Not quite, My Lord."

The Judge sighs.

"Of course."

Cross-Examination

Prosecutor:

"Mr. Everyman, when you said goodnight, did you genuinely believe the conversation was over?"

"Yes."

"And were you comfortable with that?"

A pause.

"Yes."

"Then why did you return?"

"I remembered something."

"Was the thing you remembered urgent?"

"No."

"Could it have waited until tomorrow?"

"Yes."

The gallery murmurs.

The Prosecutor continues.

"Could you have simply left it until the next conversation?"

"Yes."

"But you chose to reopen the conversation."

"Yes."

"Why?"

The accused pauses.

"I wanted to say it."

"Why did you want to say it then?"

Another pause.

"I do not know."

The Prosecutor looks towards the Judge.

"With permission, My Lord."

"Proceed."

"Mr. Everyman, did you perhaps realise, after putting the phone down..."

The Prosecutor pauses.

"...that you did not actually want the conversation to end?"

The accused looks down.

A long silence.

"Possibly."

The gallery erupts.

Judge:

"Order!"

The Prosecutor nods.

"No further questions."

The Defence Calls the Witness

Court Clerk:

"Call the witness."

The Defence calls Ms. Memory.

The courtroom murmurs.

The Judge looks at the witness.

"Ms. Memory?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"You are responsible for this?"

"Among other things, My Lord."

The gallery laughs.

Counsel:

"Ms. Memory, is it possible for someone to genuinely remember something after a conversation has ended?"

"Absolutely."

"Can such a person reasonably return to the conversation?"

"Yes."

"Even after saying goodnight?"

"Yes."

"Even after seven minutes?"

"Yes."

"Then what is the problem?"

Ms. Memory pauses.

"The problem is that not every 'Actually...' is about memory."

The Judge leans forward.

"Explain."

"Sometimes, My Lord, the person remembers something."

"And sometimes?"

"They remember that they miss the conversation."

The courtroom becomes quiet.

The Judge looks towards the accused.

"Interesting."

Counsel:

"No further questions."

The Judgment

Justice Common Sense sits quietly.

He looks at the accused.

Then at the transcript.

Then at the word on the screen.

Actually...

The Judge removes his glasses.

"The Court has considered the evidence."

"Let us establish one thing first."

"People genuinely forget things."

"People remember things late."

"People think of questions after conversations have ended."

"That is not a crime."

The Judge pauses.

"But there is a second matter before this Court."

"Sometimes..."

"...the thing you remember is not the thing you are actually trying to recover."

The gallery becomes quiet.

"You may think you remembered a question."

"Perhaps you did."

"You may think you remembered an important point."

"Perhaps you did."

"But sometimes..."

The Judge looks towards Mr. Everyman.

"...you simply realised you were not ready for the conversation to end."

A murmur moves through the gallery.

The Judge continues.

"There is nothing inherently wrong with that."

"A conversation is not a court proceeding."

"It does not always end neatly."

"Sometimes something genuinely remains unsaid."

"Sometimes another thought arrives."

"Sometimes you want clarification."

"Sometimes you simply want another five minutes."

The Judge pauses.

"But the Court has one caution."

"If you genuinely remembered something important..."

"Say it."

"If you need clarification..."

"Ask."

"If you have another thought..."

"Share it."

"But do not manufacture importance merely because silence has suddenly become uncomfortable."

The Judge looks at the accused.

"And most importantly..."

"Do not hide behind 'Actually...' when what you really mean is..."

He pauses.

"...'I was not quite ready to say goodnight.'"

The gallery erupts.

Judge:

"Order!"

The Judge smiles.

"That is not a crime."

"But it is useful to know the difference."

Verdict

The accused, "Just One More Thing," is hereby found:

NOT GUILTY of reopening a conversation when something genuinely important was forgotten.

NOT GUILTY of conversational amendment.

NOT GUILTY of remembering something seven minutes late.

However...

GUILTY of being frequently used as a convenient excuse for unfinished conversation.

GUILTY of exploiting the emotional vulnerability of people who have already said goodnight.

And GUILTY of making the word "Actually..." sound far more innocent than it often is.

Sentence is hereby passed:

Anyone wishing to reopen a concluded conversation shall first answer three questions:

Did I genuinely forget something?

Does it genuinely need to be said now?

And...

Am I reopening this conversation because I remembered something, or because I do not want it to end?

If the answer is the latter...

The Court recommends honesty.

You may simply say:

"I know we said goodnight, but I still wanted to talk."

The Judge nods.

"Much cleaner."

"Much more honest."

"And considerably less suspicious than..."

He looks at the screen.

"...'Actually...'"

The gallery laughs.

The Judge bangs his gavel.

The Principle of the Court

"Sometimes 'Just One More Thing' is about the thing. Sometimes it is about not wanting the conversation to end."

"Do not be afraid to reopen a conversation when there is something worth saying."

"But do not disguise unfinished feelings as forgotten information."

"Sometimes the most honest thing you can say is not..."

"Actually..."

"...but..."

"I was not ready to say goodnight."

Court is adjourned.

Next Week Before This Honourable Court...

Case No. 017

The People v. "I Am On My Way."

The prosecution alleges that the accused repeatedly informed innocent parties that he was "on his way"...

...despite remaining physically stationary.

The Defence maintains that "I am on my way" is a flexible expression whose meaning depends entirely on the accused's definition of "way."

The People intend to establish that the accused was, at the material time:

Still at home.

The prosecution will produce evidence showing that:

"I am on my way"

may actually mean:

"I am getting ready."

"I am about to leave."

"I am looking for my keys."

"I am looking for my shoes."

"I have left my room."

"And, in particularly serious cases..."

"...I have not yet entered the bathroom."

The Court will determine whether "I am on my way" describes an actual journey...

...or merely the intention to eventually begin one.

Proceedings continue next week.