I can see the judge now.
"Mrs Hubert, how do you plead?" He'll give me that stern look reserved for the worst offenders.
"Your Honour" I'll say. "I plead guilty, but I do have something to say in my defence!"
I hope he'll let me speak. I plan to bat my eyelashes and cry a bit. That gets me out of tickets, so it has to work on a murder charge, no?
"You see, Your Honour, on Sunday afternoon, May the sixteenth, I had a hankering for cherry pie. Not just a regular cherry pie, but one of those awesome Farmer's Market cherry pies. You know the ones? They cost a frigging fortune, but they're so good that I didn't care. I got one. And well, you see, there was one piece left after my family ravaged it. Just one piece!"
"And what did you do with that piece?" The judge will say. At this point, my tears will be flowing freely and he'll be wondering where the hell I am going with this.
"I saved it in the fridge. I knew that Monday at work would be busy and awful, so I wanted to know that little slice of heaven was waiting for me in the fridge. It would make my day so much better."
At this point, the judge will get impatient with me. Let's face it, I'm stammering about pie.
"Mrs Hubert, what does this have to do with you bludgeoning your husband and burying him behind your barn?"
"Well, you see Your Honour Sir..." Right about now I will have mascara streaming down my face and hair so disheveled I will look pathetic. "At about noon John sent me a text message."
"Saying what?" the judge will ask, curious and suspicious.
"That he had eaten the pie!" Tears will flow, snot will bubble and my heart will break in agony. "But that's not the worst part! My husband, the father of my children and disposer of dead mice took a picture of the empty pie plate and then texted it to me"
My case will be dismissed you know.
What he did to me today was the very definition of justifiable homicide.