The Boy was in the barn loft, and he was not to blame.

The barn loft was a fantastic vantage point, and short walls made of rocks- constructed as barriers to hide behind during paintball fights- made it a good place to tuck away from the Boy’s brother’s friends, who were many in number and would love to use the Boy as a football. No, he was not to blame for hiding. He sat and quietly resented his brother for bringing him along to this hangout space.

But before he sat and stewed, he was captivated by the scene outside. The Boy had had his eye to a hollowed knot in the old, rotting planks of the barn wall. Summer was dipping gracefully into autumn, so his small arms were prickling where wind made it through the wood slats. His eye watered when smoke drifted up through his viewpoint, but he didn’t look away for a moment. He was watching the judgment. Spread out below him were three handfuls of teenage boys, most in their later years of highschool and some recently graduated. They were half-gathered around a dying fire. One boy, the Judge, was standing on a large rock, and it gave him a foot of height over the others.

He was speaking to the Defendant. First came the verdict, and at it the Defendant lowered his head and shifted back. He shuddered. Next came the sentence, at which he put his head in his hands and slowly shook his head back and forth. The Judge stepped off his rock and turned away.

Before the judgment came the trial. Two boys lit a fire. The Defendant was dragged, protesting, to his spot. A boy took up the rock and became the Judge. The rest, some shaking with anger, some sniffling, gathered around as the Jury, Witness, and Plaintiff.

Teenage Boy (1) stepped forwards to give testimony. He declared the coincidence of the situation. He declared how, despite arguments and jealousy, one of them would never kill another.

Teenage Boy (2) broke in. He said he’s seen some coincidences in his life. He said, this ain’t one of them.

Teenage Boy (1) raised his arm to point at the Defendant. He asked if (2) really thought-

The Judge said something sharp and both boys fell back into place. The Judge beckoned another boy forwards to recount what the Defendant had told him, the day earlier.

Teenage Boy (3) stepped up. He turned his head away from the Defendant. His voice carefully retold the Defendant’s anger at the (soon-to-be) Murdered’s. He retold how the Defendant said he was going to make sure the (soon-to-be) Murdered wasn’t going to flirt with his girlfriend for much longer.

Teenage Boy (1) asked who would genuinely murder someone for flirting with his girlfriend? That’s worthy of a punch to the face. Not a sharp rock.

Teenage Boy (4) offered the possibility of the death part being an accident.

The Defendant was shaking his head vehemently. He stuttered something, and another boy snapped at him violently. He took two steps forwards, spreading his arms as he coughed out pleas. Teenage Boy (5) grabbed him by the nape of his shirt and yanked him back.

Teenage Boy (5) growled, the Murdered told me you were gonna do it.

Before the trial, there had been the commotion, in which thirty teen boys quickly dispersed information amongst themselves in a furious and deadly game of telephone. The commotion’s inciting incident was Teenage Boy (5) entering the barn, having realized the Defendant did.

Inside the barn, the Defendant knelt over the Murdered’s body. There was a gash on the right side of the Murdered’s head, and a rock at the Defendant’s feet. When the Defendant turned around, his eyes were big and wide. Teenage Boy (5) punched him straight in the face.

Before Teenage Boy (5) had entered the barn, and before the Defendant had entered the barn, the Murdered had been hit with a rock to the head. He died instantly. It was four minutes shy of the meeting he had scheduled with the Defendant, in which they should have fought- as teenage boys do, with fists and kicks- over the affection of the Defendant’s girlfriend.

However, if the boys had looked more closely at the Murdered’s body, they would have found a handgun clipped to the belt of his right side, obscured by his jacket. If they had, for instance, been hiding in the barn loft, they would have seen the Murdered load his gun. They might have even put together what he planned to do.

Before the Murdered entered the barn, the Boy climbed into the barn loft. And he was not to blame.

Not yet.