The day of the law school interview had finally arrived. Rose looked around, frowning slightly. There was no one there she could lean on, no familiar face to calm her nerves. She picked up her small notebook, quickly jotting down reminders and last-minute notes, before grabbing her phone and calling her best friend, Callista.
"Well, Cally," she whispered, her voice shaking, "I'm so tense. Do you think I can make it? Do you think I can pass the interview ?"
"You can," Callista said firmly from the other line. "You swore to yourself you'd deserve this. You've worked hard. You can ace it."
Her words washed over Rose like a wave, steadying her racing heart. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and packed her notebook and all the documents she would need. Determined, she headed for the car Mr. Martin had reserved—a sleek foreign Mercedes. The other car had been unsuitable, and he had taken it with him on his business trip.
But as soon as she stepped out, Sally appeared, blocking her path. "I'm going for my pedicure," Sally declared haughtily. "You're not taking the car. You'll have to find another way."
Rose froze, glancing at the clock. Her interview time was slipping away. Her heart pounded, her chest tight with anxiety. She couldn't let Sally stop her—not today. Ignoring Sally's words, Rose dashed into the street, her eyes scanning for a cab., her books clutched tightly to her chest, her hand raised frantically, signaling for any cab that passed. Her heart raced with every step, every glance at the clock sending spikes of panic through her chest. If she didn't reach the interview on time… she could almost feel the weight of failure pressing down on her.
Just when she felt her hope slipping away, a cab appeared as if by fate. Without a second thought, she leapt inside, ignoring the driver's questioning glance. She barely even registered the direction he took; her mind was fixed entirely on reaching the law firm where the interview was to be held at Essence groups hotel.
She fumbled in her bag, grabbing the money she had saved for emergencies. She had brought $60, far more than the initial fare of $25, but she didn't pause to count or check. She shoved the cash into the driver's hand, barely acknowledging him, and pressed her body forward, leaning into the cab seat.
"Please… just get me there on time," she muttered, more to herself than to the driver, as her mind replayed Callista's words over and over: You can do this. You've prepared. You can ace it.
Every second felt like a lifetime. She knew this interview could change everything for her.Eventually, Rose reached the Essence Groups Hotel, her chest still rising and falling, tension clawing her body. She slipped quietly into the building, already ten minutes late, her books clutched tightly against her chest.
As she neared the interview room, she froze for a brief second. There, leaning casually against the doorway, was Sally—smiling, pristine, as if she had orchestrated Rose's failure herself. "Going for a pedicure, remember?" Sally's tone was sugary, sharp. But Rose didn't spare her a second glance. She had no time for distractions.
Sliding the door open, Rose entered the interview room and took a seat, still catching her breath. The interviewers' eyes immediately flicked to the clock, their expressions tight with disapproval. Mr. Wilford, the lead interviewer, folded his arms and spoke, his voice crisp.
"Ten minutes late. Time is everything in law, Miss Liu. Every second lost is a second you cannot reclaim. Do you honestly think you deserve this interview?"
Rose straightened in her seat, swallowing the panic clawing at her throat. "I… I'm sorry, sir," she said, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart. "I… I didn't mean to be late. I ran—"
Mr. Wilford raised a hand, cutting her off. "Excuses don't earn marks, Miss Liu. Your preparation, your composure, your punctuality—these are what matter..The other candidates were already in their seats, sitting straight, papers in hand, trying to appear calm. The interviewer, persuaded by Rose's earlier plea, finally gave Rose a chance.
"Ready?" he asked, scanning the room.
"Yes, sir," the other interviewers responded in unison, their voices curious, a mix of men and women.
He cleared his throat, his eyes locking on Rose. "A man is walking down the road. A car hits him, severing his arm. Another man picks up the arm that falls to the ground and runs away with it. Later, the man who lost his arm files a lawsuit. Who legally owns the arm?"
A tense silence filled the room. The other candidates immediately assumed the arm belonged to the plaintiff. After all, possession of stolen property is illegal.
Rose shook her head slightly. "No," she said, her voice calm but deliberate.
All eyes turned toward her. "The arm does not automatically belong to the plaintiff. Ownership cannot be established simply because the arm once belonged to him. The law does not recognize human body parts as subject of ownership or traditional properties, so a claim of ownership is complicated, and the court might dismiss it on that basis."
"But then… whose arm is it?" isn't that "common sense?" one candidate asked, baffled, leaning forward.
Rose turned to face the candidate squarely. "Common sense and legal logic are two entirely different things. If the law were to recognize body parts as property, a person might have the right to sell or dispose of their organs. But it does not. Therefore, any lawsuit based on 'ownership' alone is unlikely to succeed. The plaintiff would need to establish a different legal basis perhaps personal injury, bodily harm, or negligence not mere property ownership."
The room went quiet. The interview leader leaned back, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Impressive," he said, clearly impressed by her reasoning.
Rose sat back slightly, keeping her composure, her heart racing—not from fear, but from exhilaration.The interviewer did not pause for long before posing another question. His gaze swept across the room, sharp and calculating.
"A man is driving a train with one hundred passengers on board. Ahead of him lies a massive boulder on the track. If he continues forward, the train will crash and all one hundred passengers will die. He considers switching to another track—but there is a lone pedestrian walking on that track. If he switches tracks, the pedestrian will die. If he does nothing, one hundred passengers die."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Tell me—if the man switches tracks and the pedestrian dies, should he be charged with murder?"
The room fell silent again.
Some candidates shifted uncomfortably. Others whispered under their breath, already forming moral conclusions. Another candidate spoke up quickly.
"No, the man should not be charged with murder."
Before the interviewer could respond, Rose spoke.
"He committed an act that fulfills the elements of murder."
The room stirred.
The interviewer turned to her, intrigued. "So you're saying saving a hundred lives does not count? Is that not morally right?"
"It counts," Rose answered calmly. "He may not be convicted under criminal law. He may even be legally justified. But the act itself still contains the elements of murder."
Silence spread through the room.
"Moral law and legal law are not the same," she continued. "Morality may show mercy. Morality may excuse intent. But the law does not judge outcomes—it judges actions."An element of murder is still murder.However," she added, "that does not mean he is entirely free of responsibility. His decision may fall under necessity or justification, depending on jurisdiction. Some legal systems may still hold him liable under negligence or wrongful death
She lifted her gaze, steady and composed.
"Even without malicious intent, a life was deliberately taken. That fulfills the elements of murder, whether punishment follows or not."
No one spoke.
The interviewers exchanged glances.
Rose had not only answered the question—she had redefined it.And just like that, Rose Liu walked out of the interview room having secured her place in law school.