Written for today’s Flash! Friday challenge, prompted by this photograph.
“So, Friday, four weeks ago?”
Prisoner 1225 anxiously glanced up at the detectives flanking him.
“I don’t remember. You can’t seriously . . . it was four weeks ago!”
“Black Friday. Witnesses saw a man fitting your description inciting the violence and looting that night.”
The prisoner began to feel uncomfortably warm in his thick red coat, and nervously tended his cascading white beard.
“What about the early hours of the 25th?”
” I was . . . working . . . Making deliveries.”
“Enough. Book him – Santa Claus. a.k.a. Father Christmas: accomplice to the theft of the true meaning of Christmas. You’ll be tried for crimes against humanity.”
“But . . .”
“You’ve got one certain hope. Just confess, testify, and the D.A. will see the Judge forgives you.”
“If I don’t?”
“Life. No parole.”
“Ok, Ok , , , I’ll confess . . . tell the D.A. I want the deal.”
The D.A stepped out from behind the prisoner, smiled, and confirmed, “IT IS DONE.”