a justice drunk. In need of crimes to justify its existence. A bizarre judicial process, where the usual search for hard evidence made by the prosecutor, give way to an introspective study that seems so much sitting psychiatric against the accused. All relieved by succulent dishes and fine wine. So much wine. The unfortunate Alfredo Traps, a symbol of respectable, bourgeois Swiss society finds itself, despite himself, to come to terms with his conscience. A perverse game and real, where criminals are mixed with innocent and vice versa. But above all, where the thin line that distinguishes one from another, it disappears. We are all guilty Dürrenmatt tells us. We remain alive only thanks to the ability to dribble our guilt. A capacity that does not have Alfredo Traps. Between a glass of wine and another, between roaring laughter and twinkling eyes of the old niece to court, you start slowly to make his extreme action. But the court was just playing. It was his hobby.
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