Chapter 8 - Justice Served
The jury deliberated for less than two hours.
When the foreperson stood up to read the verdict, the tension in the room was palpable.
"On the count of felony child abuse and endangerment, how do you find the defendant?"
"Guilty."
"On the count of domestic assault and intimidation of a minor, how do you find the defendant?"
"Guilty."
Wade dropped his head into his hands as the gavel came down with a sharp, final crack. The judge sentenced him to eight years in federal-state prison with no possibility of parole for the first five years, citing his prior cover-up in Cincinnati as an aggravating factor.
As the bailiffs led Wade away in handcuffs, his expensive shoes shuffling awkwardly against the linoleum floor, he looked back once toward the gallery. His eyes met mine, and for a split second, I saw pure terror. Then the heavy oak doors swung shut, locking him away from the innocent lives he had tried to destroy.
Outside the courthouse, the autumn air felt crisp and clean.
Reporters clamored for statements, but my attorney expertly guided Ava, Tommy, and me past the cameras and into our waiting car. We didn't need press coverage. We needed peace.
As I slid into the driver's seat, I looked back at my two children in the rear view mirror. Ava was laughing at something funny Tommy had drawn on a notepad, her smile bright and unburdened by the dark cloud that had hung over our heads for months.
"Where to, Captain?" Ava asked, flashing a playful salute.
"Home," I said, starting the engine. "And then, I think we need to plan a real vacation. Somewhere far away from weddings, suits, and drama."
May you like
"Can we go camping?" Tommy asked eagerly. "Real camping in the mountains?"
"Tent, sleeping bags, marshmallows, and campfires," I promised. "No rules except one: we look out for each other."
