"Has the jury reached their verdicts?" asked the judge.

"We have, your honor," answered the foreman.

"Would you please state the jury's verdicts," said the judge.

"Guilty of capital murder, your honor," answered the foreman.

"No!" exclaimed a juror in the middle of the jury foreman's statement. "He's not guilty!"

"You do understand," said the judge to the foreman, "that the jury's verdict must be unanimous, do you not?"

"Yes, your honor," answered the foreman.

"If you cannot reach a unanimous verdict on any of the charges, I must declare a mistrial. This juror's objection to your declaration requires me to ask every juror individually if he or she concurs with the verdict in every charge now. Has the jury reached a verdict on any of the charges?"

"No, your honor," said the foreman, by now visibly sweating.

"The jury is hereby ordered back to continue your deliberations," said the judge.

After the bailiff escorted the jury out of the courtroom, the defense attorney stood and said, "May it please the court, I move that a mistrial be declared, and the jury foreman cited for civil or criminal contempt of court as the court sees fit."

The judge answered, "I shall take the motion under consideration. Please write up a formal motion, and present it tomorrow when we reconvene."

The jury did not reach a verdict that day, and at the end of the day, was escorted back to the hotel where the jurors were sequestered.

Court reconvened the following day, and the defense attorney read an expanded version of motion in open court, with the jury absent.

"The court grants the defense motion for a mistrial," pronounced the judge upon the defense attorney's completion of his reading. "The court denies the motion to hold the jury foreman in contempt, as we have not been presented with positive evidence of bad faith or dishonesty. The foreman could have misremembered the instructions requiring jury unanimity. Bailiff, please return the jury to the courtroom."

The jury returned to the courtroom and took their places in the jury box.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I have declared a mistrial. We thank you for service to the State and its People in a very emotional, intense, and highly public case. We have one remaining order for you, before we dismiss you. You are to refrain from discussing this case publicly until a new jury is selected and sequestered for the retrial, or until it is decided against retrying the defendant. You are hereby dismissed, and free to depart. I wish you all a good day."

The jury members all arose and left the jury box and the courtroom in a line.

"Prosecutor Helms," said the Judge after the jurors departed.

"Yes, your honor?" answered the lead prosecuting attorney.

"I will continue the case for two weeks, during which time you are to decide whether to retry the case or drop all charges against the defendant. If you don't inform me of your decision by then, all charges shall be dismissed with prejudice. Court is hereby adjourned."

"All arise!" announced the Bailiff. The judge stepped down from his desk, and left the courtroom. Court was adjourned.

The following week showed Prosecutor Helms, in a televised news conference, disclosing his decision, "with genuine regret to drop all of the charges -- capital murder, aggravated sexual assault, aggravated assault, and aggravated kidnapping -- against Defendant Chester Caveman, the boyfriend of victim Debby Taylor. I fear that I would be unable to prove beyond a reasonable doubt his guilt in the crime."

The television then showed Chester Caveman emerging from a jail transport, and being met and surrounded by his family, everyone displaying tears of relief and happiness. He got into their car, and they drove off.

The television news shifted to the parents and siblings of the victim, university student Debby Taylor. Television commentary was practically unanimous.

"My sister's memory has been besmirched. How could they possibly let him get away with murdering my sister!" said Debby's older sister.

"It shouldn't be so difficult to punish a rapist and murderer," said a radio talk-show host. "This focus on the rights of the criminal has made the country the mess it is today."

"How could that defense attorney live with himself, defending an accused rapist and murderer. It must be truly pleasant to live without a conscience. Can't they get that attorney for aiding and abetting, or something?"

A state legislature candidate promised, "I will do the best of my ability to change the focus from criminal rights to victim's rights in our courts. This has gone too far!"

Chester Caveman, the former boyfriend and the defendant in her murder case, rode home with his family in silence. It had taken his defense attorney considerable hard work to get one man on the jury to vote for his acquittal and not give in to the others' pressure. Only one man stood between him and either death or life in prison.

With everything that had occurred, in the back rooms of the police station, the time in jail -- he'd been denied bail -- the pretrial work, and finally the trial, he'd almost forgotten the horror of his girlfriend's rape and murder.

In jail, he'd been beaten up often by four or five inmates at once. He'd fought back hard, and gave as good as he could, but one against five was hopeless. Of course, the guards were not nearby or in hearing range.

The time he'd filed a complaint with the warden, he learned his lesson well: one did not tattle-tale. He was stabbed in the back afterwards in addition to being beaten up, and was sent to the medical ward. They treated his injuries, but accused him of injuring himself so that he didn't have stay in the ordinary jail. He was never able to get them to flat-out accuse him of stabbing himself in the back, but that didn't stop them from accusing him of causing his own injuries.

He did blame himself for her death. If he hadn't swatted her so hard, she wouldn't have promptly run out of his dorm room, only to be raped and murdered, with her body disposed in the dorm's trash bin.

A man had to discipline and correct his wife or girlfriend, of course. Everyone with any kind of respect for tradition knew that. Everyone except liberals and communists.

He wasn't so sure of that himself, now. Some persons might call what he received in jail correction. Of course, it was pure punishment, pure vengeance, pure vindictiveness, pure viciousness. His correction of his girlfriend as well as previous girlfriends who'd eventually broken up with him, were nothing compared with what he received in jail.

Then there was the police interrogation. He kept trying to deny killing the girl. At one denial, an officer said, "So you don't deny raping the girl."

"Yes I--" he'd begun to say, but was promptly interrupted. He was going to say, "Yes I deny it."

"And once you raped her, you killed her and disposed of her, to avoid being caught."

Another time, he stammered, "I think I want my attorney."

An officer replied, "So let's explore that idea." There was the notion that an innocent person had no need for an attorney. He had nothing to fear.

"Imagine that you did rape and murder your girlfriend," said an officer.

There was so much, he couldn't remember all of it at any one time. At times, he was dying to sleep, while they kept at him.

His family had taken him to a hospital to examine him for signs of he injuries he'd received in jail. They found the stab wound, and some signs of being beaten up. But of course, sleep deprivation would leave no marks on his body, and many of the punches he'd received left no marks either.

His defense attorney referred him to two other attorneys, a specialist in lawsuits against the police and the city, and a defamation specialist. The defense attorney expressed concern about having to be a witness in some of the cases.

He spent the next week or so at home, relaxing, catching up on sleep, and at the advice of his attorney, writing down everything he remembered about his treatment in jail.

Finally, he started going outside again. He took walks, he went to the mall, went to movies, and did other things. He wasn't ready to return to college just yet, and really doubted that he would return to the local university.

One day while out walking, he sensed someone approaching from behind. He felt dizzy and faint, and felt himself falling to the ground.

The next thing he knew, his body felt bizarre. Worse yet, he couldn't control it. His own reflection slapped him in one cheek, then slapped him in the other cheek. He felt the pain surprisingly strongly, and felt and heard himself scream like a girl, then say, "That's it, goddammit! We're through!"

He was in his girlfriend's body! He could feel and hear everything she felt and heard, but shortly discovered he couldn't control the body. She stormed out of his room, and stomped down the hall to the stairways at the end. He could detect a few of her thoughts; she was going straight back to her own sorority, and wouldn't have anything to do with that asshole again. Why she ever became his girlfriend, she couldn't figure.

She was dashing down the stairs, two at a time, when she was suddenly grabbed and tripped.

"Ooo, look-a what we have here! Here's a real hot one!"

He didn't recognize the speakers, but Debby did, and he detected her thoughts. They was two players on the college varsity football team -- two of the best players.

"Charles, Troy!"

"Now don't worry about a thing, little girl," said Troy as he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her down. "We're just gonna have a little fun with you. That's all."

Continued in http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/58155/vengeance-and-be..., describing the crime from Debby and Chester's view. The reader's discretion is advised, as the crime is brutal and explicit. The reader may skip to Part III, without seriously missing part of the story.


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******     Warning: potential trigger scene here.     *******
******     A brutal crime is described, and the       *******
******     reader may wish to skip to Part III.       *******
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Debby Taylor was dashing down the stairs, two at a time, when she was suddenly grabbed and tripped.

"Ooo, look-a what we have here! Looks like we caught ourselves a real hot one!"

Chester Caveman, Debby's former boyfriend, his mind now stuck in Debby's body, didn't recognize her captors, but Debby did, and he detected her thoughts. They were two of the best players on the university's football team. Chester realized that they must have raped and murdered Debby.

A fat bit of good that would do him or Debby's memory, stuck as he was in Debby's body. He would never be able to expose the real criminals now.

"Charles, Troy!"

"Now don't worry about a thing, little girl," said Troy as he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her down. "We're just gonna have a little fun with you. That's all."

Chester tried to punch and kick them, but Debby's body wouldn't respond. He was completely powerless in her body.

Troy yanked down her shorts. Debby felt serious, nauseating panic, and Chester felt it fully along with her -- a terror he'd never even imagined before.

"Ooo, lookee here. The lady isn't wearing panties! Naughty, naughty!"

Debby was too shocked to speak or scream, but Chester inside her detected her thoughts. She was too wearing panties. The jerk had yanked them down with her shorts!

"What a hot girl," said Charles, as he savagely grabbed her crotch. She tried to swat him away, and was just about to scream when her shorts were shoved in her mouth. One of them ripped off her tee-shirt, and tied her arms behind her back, then tied her ankles together with her bra.

"Lie down, Charlie," said Troy. Charles lay down on his back, with his hard dick now sticking up. He'd lowered his pants without Debby noticing. Troy roughly laid Debby face down on top of Charles, and Charles hooked his legs over hers. He reached between them and aimed his dick at the entrance to her pussy.

Debby shrieked, and Chester felt utterly creeped out, as they felt hands spreading her ass apart and fingers covered with slime pushing in up her asshole

Troy lay on top of her, squeezing her between him and Charles. He roughly spread her butt cheeks apart, and aimed his own dick at her butt-hole

"Ready!" said Troy. "Aim! Fire!" OWWWWWWWW!!!!!!! Debby's screams came out muffled, as Troy rammed his dick all the way into her butt-hole and her vagina slammed down engulfing Charles's dick.

Charles bounced himself up and down, his dick going in and out, at the same time that Troy pulled his own dick out and shoved it back in repeatedly. They both grunted and rasped. First Charles came in her, then Troy came in her butt-hole, and collapsed on top of both of them.

All three of them lay there, with Charles and Troy catching their breath. "Oh, boy, that was a most glorious experience!" Debby, squashed as she was between them, was unable to catch her breath.

"We can't let her identify us," said the other. "We have to dispose of her."

Debby, and her boyfriend's mind inside her, found herself being carried around by her feet and shoulders. She tried screaming, but nobody heard. Charles shoved her shorts harder into her mouth.

She was taken outside. It was very dark, as the streetlights were only visible in the distance. She couldn't tell where they were taking her.

Charles dropped her, leaving herself dangling upside-down from her ankles held up by Troy. Hearing the clang of metal, and smelling the rancid smell of days-old garbage, she knew where they'd taken her. Chester remembered that her body had been discovered crushed only when the garbage truck dumped its load at the dump site. He tried to jerk her legs around, and swing himself around, in a futile attempt to escape. Debby's body didn't respond.

Charles grabbed her shoulder, and they both swung her back and forth. "One, two, three!" She was thrown into the bin, and the top was closed over her.

The last thing she both Debby and Chester noticed as she passed out was the rancid stench of garbage.

Continued in http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/fiction/58157/vengeance-and-be....

One of the witnesses in the rape/murder case against Chester Caveman lived in a single room across the hall from Chester. Originally, he was a prosecution witness, because he'd seen Debby storming out of Chester's room and down the hallway towards the stairs. He'd been the last to see her before her body was found inside the trash bin.

However, he turned out to be an excellent defense witness, even though the facts were established through cross examination during the prosecution's case in chief.

The witness had exclaimed, "Debby!" as she ran by him toward the stairs. He stopped and watched as she entered the stairwell, and then entered his room. Chester never left his room while the witness was in the hallway, and the witness never heard him or anyone running down the hallway the rest of that evening.

He discovered after the case, that the defense attorney had used his testimony to establish that the boyfriend didn't chase after the girlfriend. If Chester had simply walked, he would never have caught up with her.

He himself was convinced that Chester had nothing to do with Debby's rape and murder, although Chester was a major asshole and sometimes violent towards his girlfriends.

One day, he saw on the news that Chester's dead body was discovered in an alley. Media commentators were gleeful about his murder. "That, my friends, is the way to deal with crime!"

A couple days later, the witness was walking back to the campus from an off-campus function, when he suddenly felt dizzy and faint, and felt himself falling to the ground.

The one juror who'd insisted on voting for the defendant's innocence was truly amazed at everything that happened in the trial. Not only was the case against the boyfriend garbage, he couldn't get through to any of the other jurors. They all wanted to convict so they could go home and sleep easily. They were all the more influenced by the horrible crime, then by the fact that there was no reliable evidence pinning the defendant to the crime.

The police testimony about what the defendant had admitted was garbage; that much was obvious.

The foreman had even pulled an outrageous stunt, claiming that the jury had reached a verdict even when they hadn't. The Holdout had exclaimed no at the point where the foreman claimed to find him guilty of capital murder.

A few weeks later, the Holdout saw in the news, the body of the defendant found in an alley. He was outraged at the media commentary supporting the murder.

He was motivated to search out the defense attorney, and see if there was anything he could do to help.

One evening after dark, he was out, and had to stop to fill his car. While the pump was running, he felt dizzy and faint, and felt himself falling to the ground.

Lawrence Abramowitz, Esq., realized that this was the best likely outcome of the case against his client. Ideally, his client would have received a non-guilty verdict, but he felt himself lucky that one juror saw the obvious -- and the prosecutor dropped the charges instead of having a retrial with a defense better prepared.

DNA testing had turned out against the defense, because some of the DNA matched the defendant. There were other alleles that didn't match either her or the defendant, but the prosecutor attributed that to her having sex with others. In his own argument, Larry had attributed the boyfriend's DNA match to voluntary sex, and the other alleles to the rapist or rapists.

Larry had several other criminal cases that he had to work on, and also he was going to sue various media outlets who libeled him in this highly public case.

Then his client, Chester Caveman, was found dead in an alley. It turned out his body was perfectly healthy, and had no sign of injury, poison, or anything else that might cause death. It was as if his brain had been turned off.

He called the police, who reassured him that the death was being investigated. Then the officer said, "It's shysters like you who render all our work for naught," and slammed down the phone.

A few days later, the body of the prosecution witness who had been surprisingly helpful was found in another alley. This received much less coverage in the media, just a brief mention. It took Larry several inquiries to establish that the mode of death was identical: it appeared that someone had simply turned off his brain.

A few days later still, the body of the holdout juror was discovered in yet another alley. And yes, the mode of death was again identical. This murder received less coverage than the defendant's, but more coverage than the witness's. And opinion was now divided about equally between support and opposition to his murder.

Larry was wondering if he had something to fear himself. He called the police and pointed out the identical features in the deaths, and that they were clearly related to his case. Someone was murdering for revenge. He expressed concern about his own safety.

At one point, he was out walking in broad daylight. Several persons were about, pretty much doing their own thing. At one point, he was well away from all other pedestrians, when he sensed an unwelcome odor in the air. He covered his mouth and face, and did his best to breath as little as possible, and ran toward a more populated area just next to an intersection with traffic signals.

He started breathing again, and felt dizziness try to overcome him. He fought.

"Are you okay?" asked a pedestrian.

"No, I think I'm being murdered," said Larry as the dizziness took hold of him, causing him to collapse. "Please record everything you can about any vehicle that takes me away." He finally fainted.

The next thing Larry knew, he found himself in a small, cluttered dorm room, and his client was slapping him in the face: once on his right cheek and again on his left. As his body screamed, and as he detected his body's thoughts, he realized that he was now inside the rape-murder victim's body. He could hear and feel and see what she did, and could hear some of her thoughts, but couldn't control anything.

Larry realized that this was where Debby was storming out of her boyfriend's, his client's, room and heading straight to her doom. Well, at least he'd find out who really murdered Debby. Not that it would do anyone any good at this point.

She stormed past the friendly prosecution witness, who exclaimed, "Debby!"

`Debby,' Larry thought as hard as he could. `Debby, you really don't want to continue the way you're going. You don't want to be raped or murdered.' It was futile, Larry knew. But he had to try. `Debby. This way lies Death.'

Debby slowed almost to a stop for a moment. Did Debby actually hear his thoughts? `Yes Debby, turn around. Your boyfriend's an asshole, but that boy you just passed might agree to put you up for the night.' Unfortunately, Debby started up again, and continued to the stairs. `No Debby, you don't wanna go that way.' Unfortunately, nothing further worked.

Then came the encounter with Charles and Troy. He experienced the full DP-rape as Debby did, and it hurt horribly. He couldn't scream even though he did mentally. Then he was helplessly carried to the bin and dumped inside.

While Debby passed out, Larry didn't pass out, even though he felt he was about to. The odor of garbage was atrocious, and the garbage plus the shorts in his mouth meant he was gradually suffocating. He was still helpless in Debby's body.

`Debby!' Larry mentally shouted. `Debby! Wake up, Debby! Debby! You're not dead yet; there's still hope!'

Debby began stirring.

'Yes, Debby. You're still alive. Come up, Debby, come up out of your sleep. We can escape this. Awaken, Debby.'

Debby suddenly struggled against the bonds holding her. The stench was awful.

`Not that way, Debby. Patience, Debby. Patience, patience.' Debby slowed down. `Yes, Debby, patience. This stench is just a nuisance, Debby. Nothing more; just a nuisance.'

Debby now seemed more receptive to Larry's thoughts, and Larry's first order of business was to calm Debby down and stop Debby's panic. Once that succeeded, Debby herself managed to slowly but surely work her arms free of their bindings.

It was now a simple matter to untie her legs. It was a little harder to climb up a pile of trash to the top and push the lid open enough to climb through and out. She fell hard, scraping herself on the concrete and twisting one foot.

`Congratulations, Debby! You're free!' thought Larry in her mind. `No hurry now, take your time, nurse your wounds.' After waiting a minute, during which Debby noticed she was naked but still gagged with her shorts, she put her shorts on properly. She breathed deeply the less rancid air outside the trash bin.

She was still topless. `Don't mind that, Debby. Now emergency medical.' Unfortunately, her ankle was still twisted and spranged. `The main dorm entrance, Debby. They'll help you. Not very far, Debby. You can make it.'

It took Debby some time to make her way around to the main dorm entrance, with the promise of aid.

"Has the jury reached their verdicts?" asked the judge.

"We have, your honor," answered the foreman.

"Would you please state the jury's verdicts," said the judge.

"We find both defendants guilty of aggravated sexual assault, guilty of aggravated kidnapping, guilty of aggravated assault, guilty of attempted capital murder, your honor," answered the foreman.

The judge interrogated every juror, asking if he or she concurred with the verdict. Every juror answered, "Yes."

Larry in Debby's mind found it eerie watching himself cross-examine the prosecution witnesses, introducing evidence of falsified forensics to discredit prosecution forensic evidence, arguing that the identification of the defendants as the attackers was strongly leading, as the defendants were at the defense table, among numerous other attempts to raise reasonable doubt in the minds of the jurors.

When Debby or anyone in her family expressed outrage at the proceedings, Larry in Debby's mind held his peace. After all, he couldn't tell her that she might have been murdered, her former boyfriend prosecuted and possibly convicted and executed, and the two thugs who killed her still at loose among the population.

Larry sometimes had to remind himself that if he wasn't allowed to aggressively defend defendants like the two rapists, he wouldn't be allowed to aggressively defend innocents like the former boyfriend, or defendants charged with overextended offenses for innocent conduct or speaking out.

He also told himself that due to his aggressive defense, the defendants' convictions wouldn't be overturned because of ineffective assistance of counsel.

And Debby was no longer murdered, although she'd still experienced the other crimes. Debby's former boyfriend and innocent defendant, the witness, the holdout juror -- none of those would be murdered and mind-transferred to personally experience Debby's rape and murder. As for himself, well...

Debby found herself privy to a few discussions between her father and two university professors, one in the department of physics and one in the departments of both psychiatry and neurology in the school of medicine.

"I've studied and analyzed the professional conduct of lawyers in general," said the latter, "and defense attorneys in particular. They tend to be sociopaths, lacking conscience and empathy for the victims of crimes. Not only do they obstruct to the best of their abilities the punishment of criminals, they make it impossible to punish the worst criminals appropriately. The best one can do is confine them and extract a small amount of labor. One can no longer execute a rapist, an armed robber, or a carnal moral corrupter of a child, youth, or young lady."

Debby didn't like what she heard. It sounded as if she would be considered carnally morally corrupted for having sex and enjoying it.

Another time, the physics professor said, "We can take that attorney's soul, his consciousness, out of his brain and send it back in time into Debby's brain in time to have him personally experience the savage crime. He would ride Debby's mind piggy-back, experience everything that she experiences, but be unable to control her body in any way.

"The attorney's body would be completely healthy and whole for some time. Only the soul part of his brain, his consciousness and sensation, would be turned off."

Debby's dad asked, "Would you return the attorney to his own body after he experiences Debby's vicious rape?"

"No, we wouldn't. When we've tried reversing the process with animals, we wound up with parts of both souls in both brains. We put a cat's soul into a canary. Then we tried to return the cat's soul back to the cat, but one-tenth of the cat's soul remained in the canary, and half the canary's soul returned to the cat. Neither lived for more than a few minutes. With two different cats, similar soul-splitting occurred. Most cats lived up to one day. One cat managed to survive, but has a major defective split personality.

"We haven't yet tried to reverse the process and bring the soul back into its original body with humans. We could try it with two attorneys or criminals, but we dare not with Debby."

Debby was nauseated. Her stomach heaved, but she managed to prevent herself from vomiting. "NO! Enough evil's been done! Just leave the man alone." She ran out of the room, up to her own room.

Larry, who'd remained silent through all this, came alive. `They must do it, Debby.'

"WHAT?" exclaimed Debby. That was the first time she'd ever responded to Larry's thinking at her.

`They must send me back into your mind. Otherwise, you die in the trash bin, Debby.' Larry kept to himself the thoughts and fears of creating a real paradox -- destroying the space-time continuum, perhaps. He also kept his memory of the boyfriend and the other murders to himself.

"You're the attorney?"

`Lawrence Abramowitz, Esq., at your service, Miss Debby.'

"That means you've seen--" she instinctively covered her breasts and crotch, even though she was fully dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved corduroy shirt.

`You're very pretty, Miss Debby.'

"Thank you -- I think. And that was you haunting me that night! You... you... you tried turning me away, and then you got me out of that garbage!"

`You did the work, Debby. I motivated you. I saved my own skin as well. Make of that what you wish.'

"You've been inside me all the time?"

'Yes, since just before the crime.'

"It's him!" whispered Debby, involuntarily, as the unconscious attorney was brought in on a stretcher. They were in a room with a conveyor belt that passed through the hole of a huge donut-shaped machine.

"Excuse me?" One of the professors turned toward her, as the other professor flipped a switch on the donut machine.

"Nothing, nothing, sorry," she said, not only embarrassed, but terrified of saying something that would change their minds, or make them suspect that he was already in her mind. She she was unable to take her eyes off the proceedings, even though she was terrified to the point of nausea.

The donut machine flashed LEDs of various colors on and off, before settling to a pattern of green lights.

Larry also watched the proceedings with interest. He never insisted on being there; Debby did along with the rest of her family. But he was interested in what they were doing to him and how they were doing it.

Debby's family was practically gloating at seeing the attorney get his just desserts, as far as Debby could tell.

One of the professors, the physics one Debby thought, sat at a display on the side of the donut machine, and repeatedly typed and paused. "I've spotted both Debby, her boyfriend, and both rapists about four days before the crime. Their signatures has been identified, so we can aim for about five minutes before her rape.

"I'm preparing the presignals, each with their own signature. I'm setting the system to search and display the presignals in addition to the humans. Several have to be sent -- and the system is now displaying the presignal locations as well. I'm going to send them as preprogrammed -- don't ask me what happens if I don't send the presignals out now. Just don't. They've already arrived, at Debby's location about three minutes before the start of the crime. Two signals are in fact close enough to Debby and far enough from the boyfriend that the soul sent to either of their locations will dive into Debby.

"We're going to send our chosen presignal last, when we send the attorney's soul. Although we can't test the presence of the soul, it has arrived the same time and place as the chosen presignal."

They put his body on a conveyor belt, with his head aimed toward the donut machine. One of the professors turned on the conveyor belt, and the attorney's head slowly passed through the donut hole. The belt reversed, and the attorney slowly slid back. The belt reversed again, sending the attorney's head through the donut hole, and reversed again, returning the attorney's head back out.

Meanwhile, a series of LEDs on the machine arranged in a circle flashed on and off more or less at random. When the conveyor belt stopped, another LED shifted from green to red, as the circular LEDs continued their flashing.

Finally, the circular LEDs stopped flashing, and the red LED returned to green. The psychiatry professor said, "It's been done."

"Did it succeed?" asked Dad.

"About 90% chance of success, yes," answered the professor.

"Any way to test it?"

"We can't look back in time and detect actual souls, if that's what you're asking. As for testing now, it's been months. He's probably died out of her mind."

The physics professor said, "There's always a danger in sending a soul back in time. There's also a danger in testing the results before we do it."

"What kind of danger?"

"The problem's really the same as if we detected a presignal that we sent, and then didn't send it. What if we tested Debby's brain and detected the presence of the attorney, and then didn't send the attorney back. What happens?"

The psychiatry professor said, "That would be an interesting experiment. But the physicist here won't allow it. But someday, I'll do it."

"Not if I have any say in the matter!" retorted the physicist.

`They're playing with the universe. A dangerous game,' said Larry in Debby's mind. `At least the physicist realizes it. They have to be caught and stopped, even if not for my murder.'

On the way home, Debby said, "It succeeded."

"What? Oh, the attorney?" asked Dad.

"Yeah, he's been in my mind since just before the crime."

"So he experienced your crime, and now knows what it's really like?" asked her older sister. "Good!"

"Better, Sis. I vaguely felt his haunting, first trying to divert me from the crime. Then in the trash bin, I sensed his haunting and ideas. He encouraged me awake and helped me escape. I would have died otherwise, I think. Once I was with others who would help me, he went silent. Until I first heard you talking about sending him back to experience my crime; he came alive then."

"Trying to get you to persuade us not to send him back?"

"No, just the opposite. He said it had to be done; I would have died otherwise. But now he says they're playing a dangerous game with the universe, and have to be stopped. I hope you remember the exchange between the physicist and the psychiatrist, about not sending something after it's known to have been sent."

The following day, the news announced the discovery of the attorney's brain-dead body in an alley. A week later, the two professors and several aides were arrested for the murder of the attorney. They were also suspected in other brain-dead bodies found around the city during the previous two years, murders unsolved until now.

Larry, who had been fighting ever-increasing tiredness and an ever stronger drive to drift asleep, finally decided his work and his time were over. He let sleep overtake him, determined now to Rest In Peace.