When he spoke again, his voice carried an undertone of carefully controlled passion that made even Judge Donahue sit back in contemplation.

“And there I was, fresh-faced and eager, tasked with implementing new protocols to reassess every extended sentence.” His smile now held a hint of remembered pain. “Each case requiring us to determine whether re-sentencing, release, or parole might be appropriate for individuals whose continued incarceration offered little benefit to public safety.”

The gallery had grown so silent that the soft song of the building’s climate system seemed to throb in the air. Roma’s presence filled the space not with his usual manufactured charm, but with something far more compelling - genuine conviction.

“What I discovered in that role…” he paused, his mask cracking just enough to reveal a flash of real emotion, “would transform not just my understanding of justice, but my very conception of what it means to be human in this brave new world we’re building.”

The late afternoon light seemed to bend around Roma as he moved closer to the jury… his next words emerged with careful measure, like stepping stones across troubled waters.

“It was during this time,” he continued, his voice carrying that particular resonance that made even the most jaded observers forget their professional detachment, “that we began witnessing something extraordinary. As human lifespans extended, crime rates noticeably declined.” He turned slightly, including the entire jury in his gaze. “Not just declined - plummeted.”

At the plaintiff’s table, Daniel’s shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly. Beside him, Juniper’s fingers curled against the polished oak, her legal instincts warning her that Roma was building toward something devastating. Not through his usual tactical manipulation, but through pure, unvarnished truth.

“The data was undeniable,” Roma’s words came low, almost reverent.