Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 612 "Twelve Angry Men"?
Lionel and Sophie returned to their compartment, closed the door, and slightly reduced the noise of the wheels.

Sophie turned to Lionel and asked softly, "Lion, when you created this story, what did you think Poirot should choose?"

Lionel did not answer immediately, but instead gazed at the blurry scenery rushing past the window.

In 1883, Europe was witnessing a fierce clash between capital, empire, nation, class, and old and new ideas.

He recalled the moment he first read the original "Murder on the Orient Express," and the shock and bewilderment he felt then were now being rekindled.

Agatha Christie wrote this story in 1934, against the backdrop of a time when order was loosening and traditional values ​​were being challenged after World War I.

And at this moment, in 1883, wasn't it also the eve of another great change?

After a long pause, he slowly spoke: "In my imagination, this is neither a simple case of 'the good guys winning' nor 'the bad guys being brought to justice'."

If the law fails to punish evil due to loopholes, money, power, or pure luck, the innocent suffer all the pain and even destruction.

So, in such situations, where does the authority to punish lie?

Sophie also fell into deep thought; she couldn't be sure which answer she preferred.

As an ordinary person, she was happy to see evildoers brought to justice; but her experience handling business for Lionel over the past two years had instilled in her an instinctive reverence for the rules.

Lionel's voice did not stop: "Everyone's definition of justice and the price they are willing to pay are different, and that's our dilemma—"

We respect the law, but we have also seen that the law has suffered a complete failure in the face of the Armstrong family tragedy;

We all understand and sympathize with the suffering and motives of those twelve people, but does that equate to condoning this lynching?

Sophie sat down next to him and looked out the window as well: "So you're letting everyone make a decision tomorrow?"

Lionel finally answered the question he had posed: "If the law cannot punish villains, then the power of punishment returns to the hands of human conscience."

Conscience never plays by the rules—but how many people in this world would admit to lacking conscience?

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Similar discussions had already occurred among some passengers before the next day.

In the smoking carriage, Georges Bois of Le Figaro and Henry Browitz of The Times had a brief exchange over brandy.

Georges Bois was somewhat agitated: "Henry, you have to admit, if such a thing really happened, those twelve people are innocent!"

The law betrayed them; they simply reclaimed what was rightfully theirs—justice.

Henry Browitz exhaled a puff of cigar smoke and shook his head: "George, that's not the problem. The problem is that this kind of thing should never be encouraged!"
If they can take vigilante justice against a kidnapper and murderer who has escaped punishment today, what about tomorrow? A tax-evading banker, a negligent politician, a cheating husband…

Can anyone who is believed to have escaped punishment due to 'legal injustice' be hunted down? And who defines what constitutes a crime 'worth' resorting to vigilante justice?

An angry mob? That would take us back to the Middle Ages, back to the Inquisition. No, that won't do. The law must be supreme, even if it occasionally errs.

Georges Boyer laughed, his laughter filled with sarcasm: "Mistakes now and then? The Armstrong family made mistakes now and then? That's a breakdown of the justice system!"

When the system fails to protect a three-year-old girl and provide her family with the most basic justice, how can you expect people to blindly believe in it? That's cruel!

Henry Browitz immediately retorted: "So you want everyone to be both the judge and the executioner in their own case? We all know the power of public opinion."

If public sentiment can supersede legal judgment, cheering for the Armstrong family today could lead to tearing another innocent person apart tomorrow.

Think of those popular uprisings, think of your emperor, think of what happened during the communes… Emotions are unreliable!

Neither of them could convince the other, so they could only clink glasses and temporarily put the argument aside, but the differences were clearly still there.

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In the corridor of another sleeper car, Mrs. Rothschild and her husband also spoke in hushed tones.

“James, what do you think?” Rothschild rarely asked her husband for his opinion on abstract moral issues, but this time was different; this time she was asking on behalf of Lionel.

Mr. Rothschild paused for a moment, then said, “Emotionally, I understand that despair and anger. If my loved one had suffered such a thing, and the murderer had gone unpunished…”

He didn't continue, but his lips were tightly pressed together. After a long while, he continued: "However, rationally speaking, I must stand on the side of the law and let Poirot reveal the truth."

Our business relies on contracts. If we can break the rules today for a 'noble' reason, we can break them tomorrow for a bunch of base reasons. Once trust is broken, it's hard to repair. Market stability, credit flow, and even government bonds are all built on the basic expectation that people will abide by the rules.

Mrs. Rothschild pressed further: "So, the rule itself is more important than the 'just' outcome?"

James Rothschild nodded: “Yes. Most of the time that’s true. Individual tragedies are heartbreaking, but the breakdown of rules brings even more tragedies.”

Mrs. Rothschild fell silent. She knew her husband was right; this was the logical foundation upon which their class depended for survival and prosperity.

But last night, when she played Linda Arden (Mrs. Hubbard), the heart-wrenching pain of losing a loved one and having no legal recourse left a vivid impression on her.

These two perceptions were conflicting in her mind, and for a moment she didn't know which answer to choose.

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The next morning, when the last coffee of breakfast was served, the passengers almost simultaneously got up and tacitly headed towards the salon carriage.

The curtains in the salon carriage were drawn back, letting in the morning light. People found seats and sat down, their eyes filled with eager anticipation.

Each of them received the best elite education of the time, especially the men, for whom public speaking and debate were an indispensable part of their academic careers.

The conflicting choices left by yesterday's "Murder on the Orient Express" made them feel as if they had returned to their student days, to the scene of passionately arguing with their classmates.

Without any pleasantries, Lionel cut straight to the point: "Ladies and gentlemen, last night's game brought us to the finish line, but also left us at a crossroads."

Hercule Poirot has revealed two possibilities to us. Now, we make the final choice—which conclusion should Poirot present to the authorities?
The decision rests with you, based on your reason, experience, beliefs, and understanding of law and justice.

Charles de Frésiné was the first to speak; as a veteran French politician, his position was clear—

"If this is reality, and not Mr. Sorel's splendid story, then I think there is no room for discussion on the second conclusion."

Conspiracy to murder is conspiracy to murder. No matter how sympathetic the motive or how deserving the victim may be, it does not change the criminal nature of the act.

The law does not become ineffective based on the goodness or evil of the motive; otherwise, it would cease to be a universally applicable rule and become a matter of individual, subjective moral standards.

He paused, then looked around at the crowd: "I am not defending punishment itself. The authority of the law lies precisely in its transcendence of individual passions and temporary moral judgments."

Once a seemingly plausible lie can become a tool for achieving justice, the law will be forced to yield to ever-changing public sentiment and moral impulses.

Today it may be sympathy, tomorrow it may be hatred; today it may be directed at a villain with irrefutable evidence, tomorrow it may be directed at someone who is merely a suspect.

History tells us that emotions are the most unreliable thing in the world. Adhering to procedures may sometimes seem cold, but it is the only bulwark preventing society from sliding into chaos.

As soon as Fressine finished speaking, several passengers with close ties to the government or large corporations nodded slightly in agreement.

But dissenting voices immediately emerged.

Georges Bois remained agitated: "You say there shouldn't be a precedent for lynching because emotions are unreliable. I agree, emotions are indeed unreliable."

But can a legal system that allows villains to go unpunished while innocent people are torn apart and ruined be reliable? To implement a flawed system is to be an accomplice to injustice!
Isn't it a cowardly form of self-comfort to continue handing all hope and power back to this failed system and demanding endless patience from the victims?

Are you upholding the dignity of the law, or are you protecting an empty shell that has lost its soul?

Boyer is questioning whether adhering to procedures becomes unjust when the system has already collapsed in its basic function of "achieving justice."

The painter Louis Bertin couldn't help but interject: "Mr. Boyer is right! Just think of that scene! A family, destroyed just like that! What did the law do?"
They did nothing! If I were a friend of that family, I probably would have… God, I don't know if I would have laid a hand on them, but I understand those who did!

Charles Fressine responded calmly: "I understand, but I don't agree. Using another crime to 'correct' a previous one will only create more tragedies."

At this point, Orientalist Émile Durand took over the topic, guiding the discussion to a broader perspective.

"But historically, 'revenge' cannot be simply equated with barbarity and chaos. It is even an integral part of a culture of honor and family responsibility."

Especially in the Ottoman Empire, where we are about to visit, society still adheres to ancient traditions, and 'revenge' is not uncommon.

This idea was so fresh that even Lionel couldn't help but lean closer to listen more carefully.

He then realized that today's script had changed from "Murder on the Orient Express" to "12 Angry Men".

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(End of this chapter)