Awe. A feeling that all the investigators couldn’t help but feel. Well, both awe and outrage actually. But my point still stands. When someone accomplishes the impossible, one can’t help but feel wonder.

There were tens of people surrounding the room. Not only people, but organizations. You have Britain’s organizations such as Scotland Yard and NCA, but you also have Interpol. Everyone was examining every inch of it, hoping for a clue that would lead them to a suspect.

However, one man differed from everyone else. Instead of searching for identification, he was analyzing the craft itself. With a critical eye, his mind continuously played pictures of what could’ve occurred.

“Okay, I’ll call you later,” an agent said in the background. He hung up his phone and approached the detective. “So Augustus, what do you make of this?”

He remained silent as we walked around the edge, seeing the different angles and shattered display cases. He viewed all of them until stopping on the display case of The Stuart Sapphire. The only shattered display case that didn’t have anything stolen.

When he got closer, he noticed a small note. It was written in a sloppy cursive with smooth strokes. As he read the note, he couldn’t help but snicker. “Heh, this guy’s a comedian.”

He handed the note off to his friend, the Interpol agent.

“Dear investigators and/or members of the press,

First off, I give my apologies for any inconveniences I have caused. However, I hope the $1,000,000 USD makes up for it.

Yet I can’t help but feel that I’ve been cheated. The authenticity is worse than ‘authentic’ fast-food. The sapphire isn’t sapphire. With my limited expertise, I can only assume that it’s zircon or spinal.

I feel like I’ve given my fair share in both effort and cash. So the least you could’ve done was have the real Stuart Sapphire on display. I’m very disappointed to find that it’s only an imitation.

Please apologize soon by following my example and returning it,

Lingering forever in your thoughts,

- The Thief”

“The sapphire is a fake?” he asked in shock, not fully processing the salutation.

“It would appear so Oscar,” Augustus said. “The thief would have no reason to lie.”

“This is going to cause a scandal,” Oscar said as he rubbed his head .”This cannot get out.”

“Do you really think the thief is just going to not tell the press?” Augustus asked. Oscar didn’t respond but instead let out a long and continuous breath.

“But the press hasn’t been told yet,” Oscar said. “And the only reason you wouldn’t tell them is if you need leverage.”

“Precisely,” he snapped his finger. “The value of the Great British Pound dropped by 5%. Now imagine how much worse it would be if it was told that one of the Crown Jewels was a fake. It would call into question all the other Jewels.”

“But that would be reliant on the press not finding out.”

“That’s the part I’m trying to figu-” he said before stopping mid-sentence. “Oh that is brilliant! He knew that we would try to hide it for him. And even if it did come out, it would boost his popularity even more. The GBP would drop as trust falls, which he would no doubt profit from, and the Jewels he has would be worth a significant amount more.”

“A Xanatos gambit,” Oscar said in admiration. “This isn’t just a theft. It’s a statement. He stole from the Crown and would either walk away free or decimate the economy.”

Augustus continued to look around until his eyes landed on the case surrounded by small boxes. Instead of a jewel, it displayed the Joker card.

“Okay, I think I’ve completed my analysis.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“First off, the note,” Augustus said while grabbing it. “See the smudges? They are mainly on the left-side. Furthermore, it’s not random or chaotic, but instead, they seem purposeful. It’s as if the writer's hand brushed over the freshly written words. It’s indicative of a left-handed individual.”

“Now onto the writing. It’s beautiful, artistic even. It’s very consistent. But it still contains subtle imperfections. The lines waver slightly which indicates a lack of experience. Some of the letter connections also appear uncertain. Now we know from the bodycam that the suspect is around mid-twenties, but the writing makes me think younger. Maybe around college age or even younger.”

“You think that the robber is a teenager because of variations in the writing?” Oscar asked. “What if they’re just bad.”

“That could be the case if the style were less elegant, however they took the time to imitate a more mature style. An adult would be more refined and wouldn’t go through the effort of doing something like this. Furthermore, his use of the pseudonym Robin Fitzooth, an allusion to Robin Hood, is something that only a kid would have the guts to do.”

Oscar pondered his words. “So we’re looking for a left-handed teenager that’s rich. That narrows it down less than you’d think.”

“Well, one that is also smart,” he said. “These glasses were broken from a small impact in the corner of the glass. They used something small to concentrate the force, maybe a hard gemstone. Not to mention he was able to evade security by posing as them and came up with his gambit spontaneously.”

“What are the chances he left a fingerprint or DNA here?”

“Pfff, probably five per cent. And even if they did, a lot of people passed through here. It’s going to be hard to tell which one is his.”

“So we’re left with nothing is what you're saying,” Oscar said.

“Pretty much,” he said. As he surveyed the room one last time, his eye was drawn back to the Joker. He felt a strange feeling, one that something else was present. He narrowed his eyes as he approached the stand. The feeling got bigger and bigger, as if he was approaching a treasure.

When he stood directly in front of it, he moved his hand around the base as if on instinct. He looked down and felt that one of the tiles was different. To his naked eye, it looked completely normal. However, feeling it was like placing his hand over a fire. Something powerful had hurt him.

He withdrew his hands immediately and shook them in the air.

‘The hell was that?’ he thought. He quickly looked around to make sure no one was looking at him. With confirmation, he closed his eyes and took a deep inhale. After taking a bigger exhale, he opened his eyes. Something was different.

They were purple! His brown eyes had turned into a light purple. He moved his eyes down to the odd tile and saw that a slight light blue color was emanating from it.

‘Light blue?’ he thought as his eyes widened. He looked back down just to double check if what he saw was reality. He took the base off and examined the small, hidden compartment. Burned onto the sides were a random string of letters. A hidden message.

He immediately shook his head and began to walk away.

“Augustus!” Oscar called out. “Where are you going?”

“G-give me a second Agent Saxe. I-I need to-,” he stammered out, not bothering to finish and not even making eye contact.

“Well, you could’ve finished that sentence,” Oscar began.

“Mr. Holmes.”

As he finished his sentence, his phone began to buzz. Taking it out, he saw that his boss had just sent him an email. Attached was a link to international news.

‘This is what he meant?’ Oscar thought as the news flashed in his eyes.

----------------------------------------

“The biggest heist in modern times has just taken an unexpected turn of events,” the news anchor began, hooking the audience. “The investigators haven’t been exactly forthcoming in the details. As of now, there has been no comment on the investigation.”

“That is from the investigators,” they said. “India’s government has reported that the Koh-I-Noor diamond was shipped to them in a package. Authorities have confirmed the authenticity of these jewels.”

“Not only that, but the gemstones from The Sceptre with the Cross and the The Star of Africa Brooch have been sent to South Africa where they once again confirmed the authenticity of these jewels.”

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“However, all these lead to the questions on everyone’s mind. Why did this Robin Hood steal the jewels? Why return them? Was this a political statement? Who is the culprit? These questions may not be answered for a long time, but we will update you as soon as more information comes out.”

The video paused after that statement. Everyone who had been eyeing the projector now turned to face the teacher.

“This will be the subject for today’s debate. Is the thief morally justifiable?” she said while rising from her chair and walking to the front of the class.

Jocelyn raised her hand. “You want us to debate about a criminal?”

“Not all see it that way,” she said. “The people in India and South Africa, as well as some Britains, see him as a hero. This debate raises some ethical questions that are worth exploring.”

Jocelyn opened her mouth to speak again before realizing it would be better not to fight with the teacher and closing it.

“Move to the left side of the room if you’re in favor and the right side if you're against.” The whole class moved to the right side, crowding around a single corner.

All except one. Me. I was the only one on the left side of the room. I was the subject of all their questioning gazes. They looked at me as if they were ready to tear me apart, a group of wolves staring at a sheep.

“Um,” I began. “I don’t think this is fair.”

“All it takes is one person with a different perspective to change the world,” the debate teacher said.

“You know that sounds good on paper, but I think terrorists use that ideology. Oh, and psychotic people.”

“Well, evolution doesn’t work without some bad mutations,” she said. I wanted to argue more, but decided that this hill wasn’t worth dying on. I guess I’ll just take the compliment.

“Alright, so those against will pick a representative. Zack, tough luck, you have to do this by yourself.”

“Gee, thanks so much,” I deadpanned. She responded with a snicker. A debate over their leader ensued on their side while I just twiddled my thumbs. They were pointing at each other and explaining why they deserve to go up and why they were better than everyone else. Everyone wanted a shot at the king.

But that’s rich kids for you. So competitive and seeking to be the very best like no one ever was. Probably parental issues, but I’m not a psychologist.

Leaning back on my seat, I closed my eyes while looking up. Their conversations went in one ear and out the other as I took some alone time.

The detective truly lived up to the Holmes name. The camera had gotten disconnected when he left, but his ability to catch on was great. I didn’t expect them to find out so soon. And Oscar was more impressive than I had anticipated, but not by much.

“Looks like we have a candidate!” the debate teacher announced. I opened my eyes and stared at my opponent. “Zack, you will be going against Jocelyn.”

“Aren’t you taciturn?” I couldn’t help but ask. I didn’t expect to go against a quiet kid.

“W-well yeah,” she mumbled while looking red. “But I’m passionate about law.”

“Fair enough I guess.” I replied. I stood up and faced her. Giving a subtle nod, she returned it to indicate we were both ready.

The game is afoot!

“Tell me Jocelyn, do you believe in the law?”

“I do,” she said firmly. “It’s the rules for everyone and no one is above it. Most especially a thief. And you? Do you believe in it?”

“Well not always.”

“So you’re an anarchist?”

“That implies that I actively seek to dismantle laws and institutions. No, I believe that the law is a necessity but should be treated more as a guide than a rulebook.”

“Are you saying that the law should change depending on the person? That one person should be treated better than another?”

That was the first hit. The way in which she twisted my words was very leading, putting the implied idea that certain people should be treated differently into their heads. And by denying it, I would look like a hypocrite and my pont would weaken.

“Do you want to know the problem with laws?” I asked in an attempt to evade the question. I didn’t give her a chance to speak and continued. “It’s that it was created by humans to stop ‘evil’. But we define evil as something we wouldn’t want to happen to ourselves. Sometimes, the criminal may have no choice. As such, I believe that justice should walk a mile in their shoes before judging.”

“You think we should sympathize with murderers? Thieves? We have systems in place to help people rather than resorting to the need of crime. It should be left to the jury and courts to decide punishments and they look at extenuating circumstances.”

“Great that you brought up circumstances. Let’s take a quick peek at it shall we?” I began with a confident smile. “The ownership of the Koh-I-Noor has been disputed ever since it was given to Britain, claiming that it was misappropriated by the colonial rulers The other stones were thought to have been scammed from the locals.”

“India retracted its claim on the Koh-I-Noor diamond,” she said, a little unsure. I needed to capitalize on this.

“After around 70 years and the risk of ruining diplomatic relationships.”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that the thief stole from the king and queen.”

“And in his defense, it was just sitting there doing nothing. The scepter is used maybe twice, three times max in someone's lifetime. And the rest of the time it’s just looking pretty.”

“You’re ignoring the fact that it’s worth hundreds of millions. If you leave a million dollars in the bank, does anyone have the right to just take it?”

“If you’re alive, that means you’re spending money. The only way you don’t is if you’re dead, in which case you won’t care.”

She paused for a while, trying to come up with a rebuttal. “Why do you keep justifying theft? And defending a criminal?” she asked in frustration.

It was a pis aller. She didn’t have anything better.

“Did he really do anything that bad? He didn’t fire a bullet or kill anyone and hell, he even gave away a million dollars. He didn’t steal from anyone who didn’t deserve it or who would’ve been massively harmed. Legally yes. Morally, not so much.”

“Y-you can’t just steal the crown and walk away.”

“Okay, one: he literally did. And two, that’s not what we’re debating. We’re seeing if his actions are justifiable. I say yes due to the circumstances, but you say no because it’s against the law. You believe that justice is blind right?”

“Yes,” she answered with a nod. “Even the powerful will face consequences.”

“Ah, but justice is controlled by humans. Supreme Court members that can trade stocks, juries with hidden prejudices, and lawyers. The poor get stuck with overworked public defenders while the rich have a personal attorney. Does that seem blind to you? Are they both equal?”

“W-well no,” she stammered out, struggling to formulate an adequate response. “B-but it’s essential that we have these systems in place. They still get representation.”

“Well not in the case with these jewels. No unbiased courts reviewed the case. They didn’t even get a chance. Instead, they had to ask the person that stole from them if they could have it back. I see the thief as the unbiased party. He only returned what wasn’t Britain’s,” I firmly said. “Now we can both agree that the legal system isn’t perfect but necessary, but isn’t this just another way that justice was done? Not by lady justice, but ironically by Robin Hood.”

And with that, it concluded our debate. She could’ve argued that India should’ve gone through courts, but I’d already set up the rebuttal. India had been trying for decades too. And while the means weren’t white, they also weren’t black, and mixed to form a gray result.

She stood there at a loss for words. One look at her defiant eyes could tell anyone that she didn’t change her view but instead couldn’t come up with an argument. She’d already said everything she needed.

“Okay, looks like we’re done,” the teacher said as she walked towards the middle. “I give you both props for letting each other finish before stating your case and listening. You both also used questions in an interesting way and brought up great points.”

She rambled on while critiquing our different strategies and highlighting points of improvement. The lecture ended a few minutes after the bell rang. The whole the bell doesn’t dismiss you; I do spiel even though it decides when I get into class.

After it, we all zipped up our backpacks and began to walk out of the room.

“Zack!” a girl called out as she ran up to me. The ASB president. She was accompanied by Jocelyn.

“What’s up madam prez and Joce?”

“Stop calling me madam prez!” she complained.

I gave her a side-eye as I frowned. “You’ve been school president ever since the fifth grade, and you don’t want me to call you prez?”

“And you’ve been slacking your way to the top ever since elementary, but you don’t see us calling you a loafer.”

“Well, one’s a term of endearment and the other is an insult.”

“If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then the nickname is a malformed baby with an extra leg and finger.”

“You're hating on babies now?”

She gave me a look of outrage. “You’re impossible.”

“I aim to please,” I said, giving a gentleman bow. “Anyways, what was it that you wanted?”

“Do you have any idea where Blake is?”

“Uh, maybe the lunch tables? He just had English.” I said. “Why?”

Both of their faces began to blush as their cheeks became flushed. I smirked and had a look of realization. “You’re going to ask him out to the dance?”

“Ask who out?” a familiar voice said. Popping his big head into the room was Blake.

“Speak of the devil,” I said as we turned to face him. I gave her the side-eye and watched the interaction with glee.

“Do you want to go to the dance together?” she confidently asked, her voice not even quivering. I watched his jaw drop. He looked at me before closing his mouth once again and facing her.

“Sure Leah!” he excitedly said.

I clapped my hands and wiped away a fake tear. “My heart is touched.” It was my turn to be stared at.

“What?”

Leah shook her head before looking at the blushing Jocelyn. She gave her a gentle nudge, only to be met by a shake of the head. She sighed as she rolled her head. Leah faced me with a serious expression. “Do you want to go on a double date?”

“I’m sorry, did you just say double date?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she declared quickly while moving her pupils from me to Jocelyn.

“Leah!” Jocelyn exclaimed before turning over to me and putting her head down. “Oh my god, what have you done?”

I nervously laughed. “Do you really want to go to the dance with me?”

“Yes you moron,” Leah spoke up. She took a glance at Jocelyn’s red face. “Her face is trying its hardest to turn into a heart right now.”

I turned to face her. With an air of dramatics, I tilted my head and put on a charming smile. “I’d be honored to go with you madam.”

Leah and Blake snickered. Jocelyn never looked up but only gave a small nod.

“Great! Friday it is,” Leah said while quickly walking away, holding Jocelyn by the arm.

“It’s a pleasure to go with you madam Saxe!” I teased as they began to quicken their pace to get away. Then, it just left me and Blake alone in the hallway.

“Well,” I began after a silence. “That just happened.”

“Dude! I got a date!” he said while practically jumping up and down. “And you Romeo! That was great acting! Your plan worked!”

“It most certainly did,” I said with a grin. That was easier than I had expected. And even though I didn’t know how to respond, it seemed that my guess had worked. “I guess it’s a date, Ms. Saxe.”