Why it never ends

Chapter 1231 Punishment
Packart's expression became extremely serious, yet also extremely confused—what did Hersta want from her?

She had a premonition that whatever she said next would inevitably hurt the young man in front of her, but Hershta had come here after all and was asking her to speak.

“What do you want to hear from me?” Packart asked.

silence.

Packart heard Hesta's breathing and his own. After a long while, Hesta spoke again.

“A person’s life…” She paused slightly, “When a person’s life is taken by another person through some evil act, do you think you have the right to deprive that person’s closest relatives or even best friends of the right to avenge them?”

“I didn’t,” Packart replied just as calmly. “I never felt I had any right to interfere in other people’s life choices. But if we’re discussing a systemic issue, then you and I both have the right to express our opinions on this matter.”

Hersta gave a soft hum, which sounded like a random, unprovoked laugh.

She suddenly felt that coming here to talk to Packart today might have been a mistake—Packart's responses were so watertight and evasive that she couldn't sense even the slightest sincerity from him in wanting to have a deeper discussion.

Hester placed his hands on his lap, preparing to get up: "Then—"

“You have someone important who died in a heinous crime, don’t you?” Packart asked.

Hershta, who had been staring at the baseboards in the room, finally turned around.

“Yes, the Roger case,” Hester said softly. “You should know that it’s quite famous in the Third District.”

“I remember,” Packart said casually.

"Do you know what the prison he was in was like?" Hersta asked again.

Packart shook his head.

Hester laughed again: "I know, because I lived there too. A big studio apartment with a garden, and regular walks every day. He even started his correspondence university studies there."

"He was supposed to stay there for 21 years, but what happened? He was released on bail after only 13 months and went on vacation. Starting in the summer of '29,' he changed his name and traveled around. Even the most basic 21-year sentence was..."

Hershta’s voice abruptly cut off, but remained calm, as if she were talking about an insignificant stranger.

“I think that before he was sentenced to 21 years in prison, those who had lost their best friends and loved ones to Roger had hoped that the law would bring them justice. But reality is always disappointing. These people eventually discovered that, apart from taking a knife and stabbing their enemy in the stomach themselves, they had no other way to make the other party pay for their blood debts. There is no death penalty in the habitable area of ​​District 3.”

“I have a question for you, Jane,” Packart interrupted Hester in a very soft voice, “Even if the Third District still retains the death penalty, do you think Roger would really receive that sentence?” “…What?”

“Someone like Roger can afford the best lawyers,” Packart said. “There were countless people creating public opinion around him—you saw it yourself, there was a lot of coverage about him during that period, his photos were circulating everywhere—”

“I will never forget this,” Hesta said softly.

“Even if his criminal acts are proven,” Packart said, “he still has plenty of resources to do trauma assessments, to dig up evidence for mitigation… Defense is time-consuming, labor-intensive, and expensive, and he can afford it.”

“In the end, even if Roger does stand in the death row court, and the jury is absolutely impartial, the final outcome is still hard to predict,” Packart said. “A defense team that understands narrative knows best how to steer the argument towards ‘the complexity of human nature.’ The death penalty has long been an extreme punishment that excludes the wealthy and powerful and is reserved for ordinary people—”

“You’re really strange,” Hester shook his head, calmly interrupting Packart. “Just because someone like Roger can easily escape the death penalty, does that mean the death penalty should be abolished entirely? Just because a small group of powerful people caused injustice, you want everyone to share the bitter fruit of that injustice—is that what you call fairness?”

“No.” Packart looked into Hersta’s eyes, his voice low. “What I’m trying to say is… the scales of justice in the Habitable Land were never equal from the start. In that respect, Mercury is no different from an ordinary person—the fact that your friend didn’t get justice for herself isn’t a question of whether the death penalty exists or not.”

Hershta blinked, suddenly realizing that Packart probably knew she was talking about Liz. She had only mentioned the Roger case, and Packart knew precisely that the victim she was referring to was Mercury Needle.

She stood up and slowly walked to Packart's bedside.

“Let’s not talk about Roger then. I also have a question for you, Packart,” Hester stared at the old man’s face. “Just answer me bluntly: what are the benefits of abolishing death, or at least, what harms can it prevent?”

“I heard and understood everything you said earlier. You said it’s unfair if a punishment only applies to commoners or even the poor—I agree. But shouldn’t the discussion next be about why it only applies to commoners, and how to make it apply equally to everyone?”
"Or do you think that ordinary people don't deserve this kind of justice, that ordinary people... shouldn't expect the judiciary to be on their side?"

Packart's eyes were half-open, his gaze fixed on the ground at his feet.

In the few times their eyes met, she could still sense anger, or rather, some kind of pain, in Hersta's calm expression... Although she didn't want it to be, she was now aware of the man's determination—either she would bluntly refuse the discussion, or Hersta wouldn't leave until the conversation touched on something substantial.

“I think,” Packart said softly, “what you’re talking about isn’t justice, but a vengeful emotion, a desire to express anger in the most extreme way because you feel the system is failing… that’s only human nature.”

"But this kind of narrative does not do much good for humanity's pursuit of justice, and is even an obstacle—it prevents parties who are angry with each other or even hate each other from reconciling. The death penalty cannot deliver true justice, nor can it achieve true security."

“A noble moral ideal,” Herstad said. “Can I understand it that way?”

Packart did not answer; she sensed a slight mockery.

“But I don’t understand, Packart,” Hester said softly, “why justice must involve ‘reconciliation,’ why the death penalty is worthless if ‘real security’ cannot be achieved. Shouldn’t a person’s treatment be commensurate with their actions?”

“To bring criminals to justice is clearly part of justice… it is justice itself.”