Well, there's a number of very good answers to this. I'll get to that in part two, but I want to start this comment off with a story. Crime and punishment is a very serious thing, you must understand, and the man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin.

Our story begins with one such sufferer, a slave, who wasn't even initially accused. He lived in a small town on the coast of Anatolia, known only for having a port and a small medical school. The town was almost notoriously peaceful, as towns go, with the people actively avoiding conflict by whatever means. The Roman government, appreciative of the fact (as well as their speed to declare initial allegiance to Rome), generally let them be. But one night, a young man was found, killed on the street. Rumours arose, and a rival of his was quickly accused of the deed. The body had been found outside his house, you see, and this coincidence was too much to handle. The family, despite their strident denials of wrongdoing, had been quickly regarded as pariahs, with a mob outside their house baying for blood, and the mob eventually had their justice, killing the rival.

Something needed to be done. So the people of this town, seeking true justice against the entire family (who had barricaded themselves indoors), sent a delegation - not to the regional governor, but to Rome. They wanted the manager, and a spokesperson simply wouldn't cut it. The delegation was composed of two prominent locals: Dionysios and Dionysios, sons of Dionysios, who had the fortune to meet with Caesar Augustus himself. They, overcoming their awe and nervousness, presented their case: Euboulos, son of Anaxandridas (further marked with an A), had, with the implicit (or explicit!) approval of his family, murdered his rival, Euboulos, son of Chrysippos (further marked with a C), in cold blood, leaving the body on the street as a warning to all who might disagree with him.

Caesar was perturbed at the news. This was a small town, not known for its disturbances. While this could be a teenage quarrel, could it be the indication of something more? A thorough investigation of this murder was necessary, and he knew just the man for the job. He had a contact, Asinius Gallus, who he trusted deeply - a fact only emphasized by the fact that Caesar had allowed him to marry the daughter of his closest friend. Caesar pointedly ignored Gallus' affairs, instead appreciating him for his skills and discretion. One of these skills just so happened to be investigation.

Gallus was sent to Knidos with the Dionysios brothers, and not a moment too soon. The mob, hearing that a man with true Imperial authourity had arrived to handle the situation, were quickly overawed, allowing the man to do his job. And, of course, the first order of business in said job was to acquire witnesses. Who might have seen the crime, what did people on both sides say, and what was happening in the area over the course of the night? First, he took statements from each of the families, which were relatively inconclusive. Both sides blamed each other, and there was a blood feud simmering. Guilt must be assigned to fix the problem, and Gallus knew it. But, there were more potential witnesses to be had. You see, in Rome, wealthy families had a plethora of slaves, and slaves saw everything. Unfortunately, they were also considered to be untrustworthy. Slaves would tell any story that they had been commanded to, of course, and so there was only one way to ensure that they were telling the truth.

So Gallus did the (clearly) sensible thing, rounding up all of the household slaves of Anaxandridas (A) and, despite strident pleas from the family for gentle treatment, promptly tortured them for information - something which they had refused to allow anyone else in the town to carry out. These slaves, after being subjected to unimaginable thing, spilled the whole story of that fateful night to the piercing eyes of their torturer. Gallus nodded and let them go back to their home to receive treatment for their wounds and rejoin the household. He had the information he needed and, without saying a word to anyone in town, commandeered the next ship leaving the port for himself and his entourage. The 17 days to Rome gave him ample time to complete his report, to arrange all of the testimonies of the accusers and the defendants, and to give his final recommendation to Augustus Caesar.

A little over a month after Gallus had left, a ship arrived in harbour, bearing a message with the seal of Caesar to be read aloud in the agora. The final judgement was contained within, as well as meticulous copies of all of the interrogation records. Clearing his throat, the herald began his oration. He described how it had come out during the discovery process that the brother of the murdered man (C) had been assaulting the defendants' house (A) nightly, breaking windows, defacing the doors and walls, and causing enough ruckus to wake the dead. The inhabitants (A) were understandably driven to their wits' end and so, after constant attempts to talk him down and begging the other family (C) to call him off, and even after they attempted to barricade the road, they ordered one of their house slaves to drive him and his brother off with the greatest of incentives: Not to injure the youths in any way, but to empty the family chamber pots onto their heads. This plan would have worked splendidly, but, of course, the most well laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

Euboulos (C), horrified at the filth that covered him, slipped on the wet paving stones. At the same time the slave, who was trying to aim these chamber pots, lost his grip while attempting to remain somewhat clean. The resulting accident sent the chamber pot hurtling onto Euboulos' (C) skull. Phileinos (C's brother), both horrified at the scene and the stench (he was pretty filthy as well), fled to his family home, telling them about the horrid murder of his brother. The family had spun the narrative out of control to whip up the mob, and Euboulos (A) was murdered in the ruckus.

Caesar ended his letter by chastising the town, conveying his disappointment in their judgement and his disgust at the petty idiocy which had grown over a dispute between teenagers. His judgement was not only for the town to knock it off with the feuding, but also to include a full description - along with the interrogation documents - of the affair in their public records, so that they might have precedent if this were to happen again.

This one's a true story, and it's a fascinating (and hilarious) account of a criminal proceeding. Here's the final letter from Augustus to Knidos, detailing the affair. Sorry about the names, they're a pain in the ass to keep track of. I tried to make them distinguishable. More on Roman justice will follow shortly!