A Curious Case
“Your Honour, I withdraw all financial claims against the defendant,” Arthur said quietly. A murmur of disbelief rippled through the courtroom.
The judge, accustomed to all manner of surprises, raised an eyebrow.
“Mr. Collins, you do realise this decision wont affect the verdict but will forfeit your right to compensation?”
“I understand.”
Catherine Edwardsthough young, she was always addressed with formal respect by her colleaguescontinued taking notes without a flicker of emotion. Five years in this job had hardened her to human folly. She saw herself as the driver of a train, forever hauling carriages laden with other peoples sorrows.
The case against Lydia W. was the sort the press adored. A con artist, deftly swindling lonely hearts through dating sites. Four men, none of whom had ever met her, had sent her substantial sums. Not one had made it to a first date. To one, she spun a tale of family in a car crash; to another, a bitter divorce over cutlery; to a third, a sick child.
“Whats new?” Catherine thought as she prepared the case files. Four grown men, seemingly successful, had cast themselves as gallant rescuers, believing money could buy them love. In truth, theyd been corresponding with a married mother of three.
Now they sat in courtthe accused, the victims. Three of the men were seething, coiled tight with resentment, demanding restitution, their words dripping with venom. They werent wrong. The law was on their side. Catherine mechanically recorded the familiar phrases: “emotional distress,” “deception,” “fraudulent intent.”
Then there was Arthur Collins, sitting apart, his posture devoid of anger or self-pity. When he renounced his claim, the room fell silent. One of the other men spun round, incredulous.
“Have you lost your mind? She played you for a fool! Your money probably bought her husband a new phone!”
Arthur met his gaze with a strange, quiet sadness.
“I know. But she has three children. Let the money go to them. I dont need it back.”
Catherine looked up, startled. Generosity was rare in these walls. She studied his handsa welders hands, rough and strong, resting calmly on his kneesand his eyes, weary but free of bitterness. In a world where everyone fought for scraps, he had simply let go.
After the hearing, a defence lawyer shook his head.
“What a romantic. Naïve as a child.”
Catherine, who seldom spoke out, countered, “Thats not naivety. Its strength. The kind no money can buy.”
The room fell silent. No one had ever heard “Iron Kate” speak like that. Even she was surprised.
In the days that followed, Catherine caught herself watching himhow he listened without interrupting, how his gaze sometimes drifted to the window, as if searching the grey sky for answers no one else cared to ask.
On the final day, after sentencing, Arthur lingered in the corridor, looking lost. Catherine stepped out.
“Which way are you headed?” she asked, her tone crisp and professional.
“Nowhere in particular,” he smiled. “Just turned around in these halls.”
“The exits that way.” She nodded.
“Thank you.”
He took a few steps before she called after him.
“Arthur?”
He turned, surprised.
“You were right,” she said, her voice softening. “About the children. It was a noble thing to do.”
Arthur studied her.
“You know, Catherine” He hesitated, unsure how to address her.
“Kate,” she offered.
“Kate. People rarely choose kindness, especially in places like this. Thank you for noticing.”
He left. She watched him go, feeling something long dormant stir in her chest.
What happened next? Rain. A downpour, just as Arthur stepped outside. He paused under the awning, debating whether to dash for the bus stop.
A voice spoke behind him.
“Weve a government-issue umbrella here. Meant for documents, but I suppose it could shelter a decent man.”
It was Kate, holding a black umbrella, her eyes betraying a flicker of uncertainty.
“I dont want to keep you,” Arthur said.
“My shifts over. Im walking to the park. If youre going that way”
They walked side by side beneath the umbrella, careful not to touch. The silence between them was strangely comfortable.
“Do you always defend the victims like that?” Arthur finally asked.
“No. Never,” Kate admitted. “Youre the first who chose illogically. It struck me.”
“Perhaps it was foolish.”
“It was rare. And rarity has value.”
They reached the park. The rain had eased to a drizzle.
“Fancy a stroll?” Arthur asked. “If youve time.”
Kate hesitated for only a second. “Protocol breached, Miss Edwards,” she thought, but nodded. Arthur gazed at the clearing sky. She waited, giving him space.
“This is a first for me,” he said suddenly, and it was clear he didnt mean the scam. “Usually, people think me odd.”
“Because you refused to turn bitter,” Kate said softly. “These days, thats considered eccentric.”
Arthur studied her.
“And you? Do you think me a fool?”
“I think youre true,” she said, finding the word. “Thats precious. In my line of work, truth is scarce.”
He was silent, then asked, “Do you want to know why? Why I fell for her lies?”
Kate nodded.
Arthur sighed, his eyes distant. Then he spokecalmly, without self-pity, as if recounting another mans story.
“It began and ended at school. Her name was Lily. What I felt for her wasnt just love. She was everythinglight, beauty, the unattainable. We were that couple everyone admired. I carried her books; we danced at prom. I was certain it was forever. So certain, I think I convinced everyone else too. We were the perfect pair.”
“Then she left. Went to a prestigious university, married a classmate. Sent me a postcard. Can you imagine? Not a letter, not a call. Just a postcard of London. Three words: Sorry. Its better.”
“Everything lost meaning. I didnt drink, didnt rage. Just stopped feeling. Became a welderits work where you can hide behind a mask, drown your thoughts in noise. I built walls around my heart, but inside, that naïve boy still believed in one true love.”
“When I saw her photo onlinethe con artistsomething woke in me. She looked like Lily. But it was the caption that got me: Still believe in love. Pathetic, eh? I wrote to her. And she replied with words Id waited years to hearof forever, loyalty, something real. It was the key to my fortress. I wanted the fairy tale so badly, I ignored the red flags. I wasnt buying her lies. I was buying proof that love like mine wasnt a delusion.”
“The trial freed me. At first, I was humiliated. Then, seeing herjust a scared, pitiful womanthe illusion shattered. Lilys ghost finally let me go. The money? A fee for exorcism. Steep, but effective.”
Arthur fell silent, waiting for judgment. Kate placed her hand over his. Hers was warm and steady.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said quietly. “Now I understand. Youre no fool. Youre just true to yourself.”
***
No one called her “Kate” at work. She was “Miss Edwards”strict, silent, unshakable. Married to the job, no room for sentiment. When colleagues spotted her with Arthurwaiting for her after hoursthey were stunned.
Judge Margaret Hayes, fifty, with a stare that could halt criminals mid-step, broke the silence first.
“Well, Miss Edwards has surprised us all. I thought her heart was a filing cabinet. Now lookromance with our noble victim.”
Her younger colleague, Judge Ian Moore, smirked.
“With his naïveté, hes more like a defendant for excessive gullibility. Miss Edwards must be reforming him.”
“Enough cynicism, Ian,” Margaret chided, though her lips twitched. “The mans hardworking, skilled. And what he did it was uncommon. Principles over profitrare in our line.”
In the break room, solicitor Stanley threw up his hands.
“Romance in a courtroom? Straight out of a soap opera.”
Kate hadnt softened professionally, but something had shifted. Sometimes, she smiled at her phone. A thin silver chain appeared at her neck.
Behind her back, the office divided. The men joked darkly: “Prepare for wedding invites. Theyll call us as witnesses: Yes, I saw the defendant steal the victims heart.”
The women, especially the younger ones, sighed. “Its beautiful! Miss Edwards, always so stern, and himwounded but kind. And handsome! Its a storybook!”
Accounts manager Valerie scowled.
“Envy quietly. Weve forgotten what real feeling is. A man with a good hearts rarer than hens teeth. Kates smart. Let her be happy.”
One morning, over coffee, Ian couldnt resist.
“Miss Edwards, hows your gallant rescuer? Filed any more claims out of chivalry?”
The room held its breath.
Kate sipped her coffee, set it down, and met his gaze.
“Judge Moore, if youre so interested in closed cases, I can grant full archive access. Would you like Case No. 3-452/18? Or perhaps 2-187/19? Both involved rather colourful characters.”
Silence. Ian choked. He knew what she meantshed processed his cases too, knew things hed rather keep quiet.
“No, no, Kate! Just friendly concern.”
“How kind,” she said, sweet as syrup. “But my private life isnt under trial. Yet.”
The teasing stopped. Respectful curiosity took its place. The clincher came the morning Arthur dropped her off in his modest but tidy car. He stepped out to adjust her coat collara small, tender gesture. Those who saw it from the windows had no doubts left.
That day, Margaret pulled her aside.
“Kate, hes good. It shows. Hold onto him.”
It was the only “verdict” Miss Edwards accepted without objection. She simply nodded.
“Thank you, Margaret. I know.”
The gossip faded. Colleagues understood: their unflappable secretary, keeper of order and protocol, had passed her own sentence”Pardoned. To love. To be happy.” And there would be no appeal.
