We interrupt your regularly scheduled reading with this late-breaking news story, inspired by John Howell, who suggested that Jack ought to face charges. You can follow John’s stories by clicking this link. You may remember that we reported earlier that Jack burgled the house of Mr Giant on multiple occasions and then allegedly caused his untimely death. Those events were reported right here at OUAT (Once Upon a Time) News.

Jack had always assumed that cutting down the beanstalk would be the end of the matter.

It was not.

At precisely nine o’clock the following morning, three constables arrived at his cottage. They found Jack eating an omelet from a suspiciously large golden egg while his mother attempted to conceal a large harp beneath a tea towel.

“Jack Green?” asked Chief Constable Grimm.

“Yes?”

“You are under arrest for burglary, grand theft, and the murder of one Gerald Giant. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

Jack swallowed. “Murder?”

“The deceased fell from a beanstalk you deliberately chopped down.”

“I thought he was going to eat me!”

“That may be relevant,” said Grimm. “But first, would you care to explain why your breakfast has a serial number?”

The golden egg gave a small metallic clink.

Jack was taken before the Royal Court of Once-Upon-a-Time. The courtroom was packed. Three little pigs occupied the front row, hoping the trial might establish a useful precedent concerning home invasions. Goldilocks sat behind them and avoided eye contact.

“All rise; this honorable court is now in session,” called the bailiff, “the Honorable Judge Red Riding Hood presiding.”

Judge Hood entered wearing scarlet silk robes with an expression suggesting that she had already heard every possible excuse involving wolves, enchanted produce, and poor impulse control.

The prosecutor, Mr. Rumpelstiltskin, rose.

“My Lord, the evidence will show that the defendant climbed onto private property, entered Mr. Giant’s home without permission, and stole a bag of gold, a golden-egg-laying hen, and a sentient harp. When pursued, he destroyed the only route connecting the premises to the ground, causing Mr. Giant’s death.”

He pointed dramatically at Jack.

“This was not an adventure. It was a crime spree with unusually aggressive landscaping.”

Jack’s defense attorney was Puss in Boots, who had acquired his legal qualifications from a correspondence course printed on the back of a sardine tin.

“My client pleads not guilty, M’lord,” said Puss. “Also young, poor, frightened, and extremely photogenic.”

The first witness was Mrs. Giant.

“My husband was preparing breakfast,” she testified, “when he smelled an Englishman.”

“Objection,” said Puss. “Specious ethnic olfaction.”

“Sustained,” said Judge Hood.

Mrs. Giant described finding Jack inside the castle on three separate occasions.

“Three?” asked the judge.

“Yes. First, he stole the gold. Then the hen. Then the harp.”

Judge Hood looked over her spectacles. “Mr. Green, after the first unlawful entry, did it occur to you not to go back?”

“I needed money.”

“You had already stolen a bag of it.”

“I’m not very good at budgeting.”

The prosecution next called the harp.

“Did the defendant take you against your will?” asked Rumpelstiltskin.

“YES!” cried the harp. Every answer emerged as a dramatic musical chord.

“Did you call for help?”

“YES!”

“Were you frightened?”

“YES, ALTHOUGH I WAS ALSO PLEASED TO BE INCLUDED!”

Puss approached for cross-examination.

“Is it not true that Mr. Giant kept you locked in a cupboard?”

The harp played a minor chord.

“Yes.”

“And forced you to perform?”

“Yes.”

“Without wages?”

The harp gasped musically. “Not even tips.”

A murmur passed through the courtroom.

Puss turned to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, this was not theft. It was a rescue.”

“You were carried by the neck,” said the prosecutor.

“I am ergonomically difficult,” admitted the harp.

The golden hen testified next.

“Mr. Giant made me lay eggs all day,” she said. “Do you know what that does to a bird’s iron levels?”

“No further questions,” said Puss.

Then came the murder charge.

An expert from the Royal Academy of Questionable Physics displayed a diagram of the beanstalk.

“The Giant was descending when Jack cut the stalk,” he explained. “Gravity did the rest.”

“So, gravity killed him?” asked Puss.

“Technically, sudden deceleration killed him.”

“Has gravity been arrested?”

“No.”

“Convenient.”

The prosecutor called his final witness: Jack’s mother.

She marched to the stand carrying her handbag like a weapon.

“Did you instruct your son to cut down the beanstalk?” asked Rumpelstiltskin.

“I handed him the axe.”

Jack sank lower in his chair.

“Why?”

“A giant was coming down it shouting, ‘Fee-fi-fo-fum,’ which nobody has ever said while delivering good news.”

Puss stood. “Mrs. Green, what did you believe would happen if the Giant reached the ground?”

“He would kill Jack.”

“And perhaps you?”

“Possibly.”

“And your cow?”

“We’d already sold the cow.”

“Please don’t reopen that subject,” Jack whispered.

Puss addressed the jury.

“Jack may be a trespasser. He may be a thief. He may be, in agricultural terms, catastrophically irresponsible. But when he cut that beanstalk, a furious giant was pursuing him after announcing an intention to grind his bones into bread. That is not a metaphor one calmly investigates.”

The prosecutor rose for his closing argument.

“Self-defense may explain the beanstalk. It does not explain the stolen gold.”

“I was under economic pressure,” Jack called out.

“You exchanged the family cow for five beans.”

“They were excellent beans.”

“They became a public air-traffic hazard!”

After two hours of deliberation, the jury returned. Its foreman, the eldest of the three pigs, stood.

“On the charge of burglary: guilty.”

Jack winced.

“On the charge of grand theft: guilty, although we recommend leniency regarding the exploited poultry and musical instrument.”

The hen nodded.

The harp played a triumphant chord.

“On the charge of murder: not guilty by reason of self-defense.”

The courtroom erupted. Jack’s mother hugged him. Puss bowed. Rumpelstiltskin stamped his foot so hard that the floor cracked, then refused to give anyone his name for the insurance report.

Judge Hood imposed sentence.

“Mr. Green, you will return the gold, perform five hundred hours of community service, and remain on probation for three years. You are forbidden from entering castles, climbing enchanted vegetation, or conducting financial transactions involving livestock.”

“What about the hen?” Jack asked.

“The hen is not property. She has accepted a position at the Royal Mint.”

“And the harp?”

“I’m going on tour!” it sang.

Jack returned home poorer but considerably wiser.

He lived quietly for almost six months.

Then, one morning, a traveling merchant knocked on his door and offered him a magic lamp.

Jack stared at it.

His mother stared at it.

From across the road, Chief Constable Grimm lowered his newspaper.

“How much?” Jack whispered.