Chapter 8
The defense started their case the next morning.
Ethan’s lawyer had one last trick.
He called Ethan to the stand.
Ethan walked up, head down.
He sat down.
Looked at the jury.
And he cried.
Big, fake sobs.
Wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
“I loved Charlotte,” he said, his voice cracking. “I loved her more than anything. But she was sick. She’d been depressed for months. She threatened to kill herself. To hurt the baby. I locked her in that cage because I was scared. Scared she’d hurt herself. Scared I’d lose her and the baby. It was a mistake. A terrible mistake. But I did it out of love. Not hate. Love.”
He turned to me.
Fake tears running down his face.
“I’m so sorry, Charlotte,” he said. “I was just trying to protect you. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
I stared at him.
Disgust rose in my throat.
How dare he?
How dare he use love as an excuse for what he’d done?
Love doesn’t lock you in a cage.
Love doesn’t leave you to starve.
Love doesn’t plan to kill you.
His lawyer turned to Claire’s murder.
“Claire’s death was a terrible accident,” he said. “She fell down the stairs. My client was devastated. He grieved for years. There is no proof he hurt her. None. Just the words of angry women who want his money.”
Then the prosecution got to cross-examine.
My lawyer stood up.
Walked to the witness stand.
She didn’t yell.
She didn’t get angry.
She was calm.
Cold.
Deadly.
“Mr. Carter,” she said. “You say you locked Charlotte in the cage to protect her. Why did you leave her there for three days with no food? Why did you leave her in the Texas sun until her arms blistered? Why did you tell her the baby wasn’t yours?”
Ethan stammered.
“I… I was angry. I said things I didn’t mean.”
“Angry enough to plan her murder?” she asked.
She held up the emails.
Read them out loud.
The cage was just the start.
By next month, she’ll be gone.
Make sure the baby is gone too.
Ethan’s face got red.
He squirmed in his seat.
“Those are fake,” he said. “Forged.”
“Fake?” my lawyer said. “The FBI verified them. They came straight from your server. Your fingerprints are on the printed copies. Are you calling the FBI liars?”
She moved on to Claire.
Held up the police reports Lila had brought.
The hospital records of Claire’s broken wrist.
Her black eyes.
Her cracked ribs.
“All of these happened while you were married to her,” she said. “Were those accidents too? Did she fall down the stairs every other week?”
Ethan didn’t answer.
He looked down at his hands.
Then she held up Claire’s diary.
Read the entry about the day he hit her for burning the toast.
About Martha laughing.
“Did you hit her, Mr. Carter?” she asked. “Did you break her wrist? Did you threaten to kill her if she left?”
Ethan’s head snapped up.
His face was purple.
All the fake tears were gone.
The mask had slipped.
The monster was out.
“YES!” he screamed. “I hit her! She was useless! She was weak! She deserved it! And Charlotte? She deserved the cage! She was going to take everything from me! Claire was going to leave me! They all deserved what they got!”
The courtroom erupted.
The judge banged his gavel, over and over.
Ethan kept screaming.
Bailiffs ran over, grabbed him, dragged him out.
He yelled curses.
Threats.
Admitted everything.
Murder.
Fraud.
Conspiracy.
All of it.
I sat there, frozen.
Then I felt Lila’s hand on mine.
May you like
She was crying, smiling through her tears.
“He did it,” she whispered. “He finally admitted it. Claire heard him. I know she did.”
