Chapter 8
The defense presented their case over the next two days.
They called a string of witnesses. Victoria’s friends. Her old coworkers. People who swore she was the kindest, sweetest woman alive. Who would never hurt a fly.
None of it mattered.
Every single one of them crumbled under Ms. Bennett’s cross-examination. She pulled up their criminal records. Their own financial troubles. The fact that Victoria had paid them all to testify.
Then Victoria took the stand.
She cried. She sobbed. She told the jury she was the real victim here. That Nathaniel had abused her. That Clara and Lila had been plotting against her for months. That the charm had been planted.
It was all lies. Big, dramatic, ugly lies.
But she was good at it.
I saw a few jurors look at her with sympathy in their eyes.
My stomach twisted.
Ms. Bennett cross-examined her for three hours.
She pulled up the embezzlement records. The life insurance policy. The threatening texts Victoria had sent to Nathaniel. The phone records showing she’d called the estate over a hundred times in the week after Eleanor’s fall.
Victoria’s story fell apart piece by piece.
By the time she stepped down, her face was red, her makeup was running, and half the jury was staring at her with disgust.
The next day was closing arguments.
Ms. Bennett stood in front of the jury, her voice steady and powerful.
“Victoria Hale tried to kill an 82-year-old woman for money,” she said. “She threatened a seven-year-old girl and her mother to cover it up. But she made one mistake. She didn’t count on Lila. A little girl who was brave enough to tell the truth. Even when she was scared. Even when a grown woman threatened her life. That is the truth. And the truth always wins.”
Mr. Grady gave his closing after that. He yelled. He pleaded. He called Lila a liar one last time.
No one was listening.
The jury went out to deliberate at three p.m.
We waited in the hallway outside the courtroom.
Nathaniel paced back and forth. Eleanor sat in her wheelchair, holding Lila’s hand. I sat on a hard plastic chair, my hands folded so tight my nails dug into my palms.
An hour passed.
Two hours.
Three.
I was starting to get scared. A long deliberation usually meant the jury was divided.
At six thirty, the bailiff came out.
“The jury has reached a verdict,” he said.
My heart jumped into my throat.
We filed back into the courtroom.
Victoria sat at the defense table, her face pale, her hands clasped tight in her lap.
The judge asked the foreman to stand.
“How do you find the defendant, Victoria Hale, on the charge of attempted murder in the first degree?”
The foreman looked at Victoria.
“Guilty,” he said.
A gasp went through the courtroom.
“On the charge of witness intimidation?”
“Guilty.”
“On the charge of grand larceny, for the embezzlement in New York?”
“Guilty.”
I burst into tears.
Nathaniel pulled me into his arms, crying too. Lila cheered, loud and happy, until Eleanor shushed her gently, smiling through her own tears.
Victoria stared at the jury, her face blank. Disbelieving.
Then she screamed.
She stood up, screaming curses at all of us. At the jury. At the judge. At Lila.
Two bailiffs grabbed her and dragged her out of the courtroom, kicking and screaming.
The judge banged his gavel.
“Order!” he yelled. “Order in the court!”
But no one cared.
We were all too busy hugging each other. Crying. Laughing.
It was over.
May you like
Finally.
It was over.
