The first scream tore through the courtroom like metal against bone. People froze, then flinched, as a 12-year-old collapsed under the weight of a 50-year sentence that sounded less like justice and more like a burial. His terror was raw, animal, impossible to look at and impossible to look away from. When the screaming stopped, the silence was worse. Adults stared at the judge, then at the child, then at the ground, as if afraid their eyes might confess something their mouths never would. Nobody moved to comfort him. Nobody could rewrite the decision that had just stolen his future in plain sight. A single question pressed against the walls, against people’s ribs, against the idea of justice itself, and no one dared to say it ou… Continues…