The Light that Lies

Sampson has made a career out of slipping out of jury service, inventing clever excuses to avoid the courtroom whenever a trial comes calling. What began as a harmless game of wit has turned into a relentless gauntlet, with summons after summons forcing him to watch his social calendar crumble. Each new assignment feels like a trap, and the once‑pleasant challenge now wears thin.

His irritation soon deepens into a sharp critique of the very idea of a jury. Sampson argues that a wealthy banker shouldn't be judged by a dozen laborers, just as a street tough shouldn't be tried by scholars, and he grows convinced that the system is fundamentally unfair. As his personal grievances mount, he starts to wonder whether anyone will ever be able to fix a process that seems designed to punish the very citizens it claims to protect.