Chapter 7
The trial started three months later.
The courtroom was packed. Reporters, family friends, even a few people from my company, all there to see what would happen.
Ethan sat at the defense table, his face blank, no remorse. He’d pleaded not guilty, said Elena had attacked him first, that he’d acted in self-defense, that Mom had helped him cover it up because she was scared of me.
The prosecution called Maria first. She laid out the embezzlement records, the emails, the timeline of every transfer, every lie Ethan and Mom had told. It was damning.
Next, the paramedics testified. They said when they’d first arrived at Mom’s house, Elena had no detectable vital signs, but after they’d intubated her and warmed her up, a faint pulse had appeared. She’d been in a state of suspended animation, brought on by the strangulation and the cold of the coffin. If I’d gotten home even two hours later, she and Liam would have been dead for real.
Dr. Hale testified next, as part of his own plea deal. He said Mom had paid him $5,000 to sign the death certificate, that he’d never even touched Elena, that he’d known she might still be alive but hadn’t cared.
Then Mom took the stand.
She was calm, her voice steady, as she told the whole truth. The gambling, the loan sharks, letting Ethan steal from me, the day Elena found out, Ethan attacking her, helping him cover it up, rushing the funeral so I wouldn’t find out. She cried when she talked about Liam, about how she’d almost let her own grandson be buried alive.
Ethan’s lawyer tried to paint her as a liar, a desperate woman trying to save herself, but the prosecution had too much evidence. They played a recording of Ethan in jail, talking to his girlfriend, saying I was an idiot who deserved to lose everything, that he’d do it all again if he had the chance.
The jury deliberated for six hours.
When they came back, the courtroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
The foreman stood up, holding the verdict slip.
“On the charge of attempted first-degree murder, we find the defendant, Ethan Carter, guilty.”
A murmur went through the crowd. Ethan’s face went white.
“On the charge of embezzlement over $100,000, guilty.”
“On the charge of conspiracy to commit fraud, guilty.”
The judge banged his gavel, ordering Ethan into custody until sentencing. He was led out of the courtroom in cuffs, his eyes locked on mine. No apology. No regret. Just cold, hard anger.
Mom pleaded guilty the next day, as per our deal. The judge accepted the plea, scheduling sentencing for a month later.
I walked out of the courthouse, Elena on my arm, Liam in his car seat, and felt a weight lift off my shoulders.
Justice had been served.
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Ethan would pay for what he’d done. Mom would have to work every day for the rest of her life to make amends.
And we? We were free.
