Chapter 8
I didn’t sleep a wink that night.
I lay in bed beside Ava, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the trial in my head.
Had I said the right thing?
Had the jury believed us?
What if they let her go?
What if she came after us again?
Ava rolled over and put her hand on my chest.
“Stop thinking,” she whispered.
“I can hear the wheels turning from here.”
I kissed the top of her head.
“I can’t help it,” I said.
“What if we lose?”
She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at me.
Her face was serious, her eyes bright.
“Then we fight again,” she said simply.
“We appeal. We get more evidence. We keep going until we win. We don’t give up. Not ever. Remember?”
I smiled.
She was right.
Of course she was right.
We’d come too far to give up now.
We got to the courthouse early the next morning.
The waiting room was empty except for us, our lawyer, and Margaret and her lawyer.
Margaret wouldn’t look at me.
She stared at the floor, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve.
Her lawyer was on his phone, pacing back and forth, looking nervous.
An hour later, the bailiff called us back into the courtroom.
The jury filed in.
I looked at each of their faces, trying to read what they were thinking.
They looked serious.
No smiles.
No frowns.
Nothing.
The judge asked the foreman if they’d reached a verdict.
The woman stood up, holding a piece of paper in her hand.
“We have, Your Honor,” she said.
My heart stopped.
I squeezed Ava’s hand so hard I must have hurt her, but she didn’t pull away.
She squeezed back.
“On the charge of assault causing bodily harm to Ms. Ava Carter,” the foreman read.
“We the jury find the defendant, Margaret Carter, guilty.”
A breath I didn’t know I was holding whooshed out of me.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
Lena let out a small, happy sob from the seat behind us.
“On the charge of assault causing bodily harm to Ms. Lena Marquez,” she continued.
“Guilty.”
“On the charge of attempted fraud by coercion,” she said.
“Guilty.”
“On the charge of reckless endangerment,” she finished.
“Guilty.”
The courtroom erupted in quiet murmurs.
Margaret’s head fell into her hands.
Her lawyer sat down heavily, looking defeated.
Our lawyer leaned over and shook my hand, smiling.
“Told you we’d win,” he said.
The judge banged his gavel to quiet the room.
He waited for silence, then looked at Margaret.
“Ms. Carter,” he said, his voice stern.
“I have been on the bench for twenty-two years. Rarely have I seen a defendant show such a complete lack of remorse for her actions. You targeted two vulnerable women, you abused their trust, you tried to steal everything they had. And when you were caught, you lied, you manipulated, you tried to ruin their reputations to save yourself. That is not acceptable. Not in my courtroom.”
He paused, looking over the papers in front of him.
“Given the severity of the crimes, the overwhelming evidence, and your complete lack of accountability, I am sentencing you to three years of supervised probation. Two hundred hours of community service. Mandatory anger management and psychological counseling, to be completed within the first year of your probation. You will pay full restitution to both victims for all medical bills, lost wages, and legal fees. And I am issuing a permanent, lifetime restraining order. You are never to come within one thousand yards of Ms. Carter, Ms. Marquez, or their property. You are never to contact them, directly or indirectly, for any reason. If you violate any of these terms, you will be immediately arrested and sentenced to the maximum five years in state prison. Do you understand me?”
Margaret looked up, her face ashen.
She nodded, unable to speak.
The bailiffs led her away.
She didn’t look at me once.
It was over.
Really, truly over.
We walked out of the courthouse into bright, warm sunshine.
The rain had stopped overnight.
The sky was blue, the birds were singing.
It felt like the whole world was smiling with us.
A group of our friends was waiting on the steps, cheering when they saw us.
Even a few of our neighbors were there, apologizing for believing the lies, telling us they were glad the truth had come out.
Aunt Carol was there too, standing off to the side, looking ashamed.
She walked over to us slowly.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice thick with tears.
“I believed her. I said terrible things. I was wrong. So, so wrong. Can you ever forgive me?”
I looked at Ava.
She nodded slightly.
I turned back to Aunt Carol.
“Apology accepted,” I said.
“It’s going to take time. But we can start over. If you’re willing.”
She cried, hugging us both, promising she’d never doubt us again.
It wasn’t everything.
Some bridges were burned forever.
But it was a start.
That night, we ordered our favorite takeout, opened a bottle of champagne, and sat in our backyard watching the sun set.
We laughed, we cried, we talked about the future.
For the first time in months, there was no fear.
No anger.
May you like
No weight on our shoulders.
We were free.
