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“This is a clear case of self-defense. The prosecution has no one bringing charges against Miss Shaw. The victim was a criminal with no one to vouch for him. Miss Shaw acted in self-defense. We’re requesting all charges be dropped.”
The male lawyer across the aisle jumps to his feet. “Your honor, that’s outrageous. We still have laws in this country. A man cannot be shot in cold blood and nothing done about it. We’re requesting a trial for first-degree murder. No bail, as Miss Shaw is clearly a flight risk.”
Courtney’s hand flies to her mouth, and her face turns ghastly pale. She reaches out, and I want to hug her.
Instead, her lawyer rises slowly, calmly. “Your honor, there is no reason to hold Miss Shaw without bail. She has a job, clients, a son. If she were a flight risk, she would already have run. She clearly believes in the system and justice. We’re asking you to simply review the facts of this case and decide what is clear to see.”
The prosecutor begins to speak, but the judge holds up her hand. “I’ll take a five-minute recess to review the defendant’s case.”
With the bang of a gavel, she stands and leaves the courtroom. We all collapse in our seats. I take a deep breath and sit forward, reaching for Courtney’s arm.
“She’s going to see the truth. I know she is.”
Worry lines my friend’s eyes. “I hope so. I hope it’s enough.”
Holding my smile steady, I say a prayer under my breath. My phone is set to silent because Daisy and my mom are blowing it up with texts wanting to know what’s happening.
We wait what feels like an eternity for the judge to return from reviewing
Courtney’s case. I wish I had included pictures of my cheek after Ozzy chased me into the ladies room, but if the police are anything to go on, it wouldn’t matter. I saw him of my own free will. He didn’t touch me. I fell.
It’s the same thing they’re saying about Courtney. If she were so afraid of him, why would she willingly go with him to a coffee shop?
It’s like none of these people have jobs or children.
My heart jumps when the bailiff returns to the front of the courtroom. “All rise.”
We stand like it’s church, and Judge Wright gathers her black robe as she takes her seat inside the small booth. My breath is stuck in my lungs as I wait for her to tell us her decision.
“It is the opinion of this court Mrs. Clayton acted in haste when she met with her husband last week, armed with a loaded weapon. I’m not convinced she had reason to believe he would harm her that day or she would not have gone to meet him.”
My throat is tight, and I feel the bile rising in my stomach. How can she say this? Didn’t she even see the restraining orders? The pictures I took? He was completely unpredictable.
The black-robed woman continues, her tone actually sounding bored. “I do think Mrs. Clayton was in a difficult situation, but she didn’t pursue the proper remedies to help herself. She didn’t file for divorce; she didn’t seek sole custody—”
“Your honor, if you please.” Courtney’s lawyer is on her feet. “Miss Shaw did file for legal separation on August 27—”
“If she was able to do that, she was able to finish the process.” The judge snaps. “She didn’t leave Columbia or even behave in a manner that would suggest she feared for her life. She continued going to work, sending her son to the same school, living in the same apartment.”
“Your honor, she was attempting to maintain a normal life. She had to work in order to pay her bills. Miss Shaw is not independently wealthy. She’s a poor, single mother with no family nearby, no support system.”
“Regardless, a man lost his life violently in my city.” The judge doesn’t even hesitate. “Based on the information before me here today, I see no reason to dismiss the charges of first-degree murder, and I hereby set a trial date for—”
The wooden doors at the back of the courtroom fly open, and a male voice I know well echoes through the near-empty room. “Your honor, my apologies, if you would please wait. I have new information that will impact your decision.”
Spencer strides up the aisle dressed as always in an expensive suit, but he’s disheveled, his hair’s a gorgeous mess, and he’s not wearing a tie… And I hate how fast my heart beats at the sight of him. I hate that I’m so stupidly happy to see him.
“I object!” The prosecutor is on her feet. “Your honor, we have no idea what this new information might be or who this person even is.”
The judge frowns at Spencer, and he motions to Courtney’s lawyer to join him. “If you would just take a moment, your honor. I came straight from the Dentsville Magistrate with a notarized confession.”
All of the lawyers congregate around the judge’s desk, and Spencer slides several sheets of paper from a brown manila envelope.
“I’ll call a ten-minute recess while we examine this new information. Bailiff, please provide copies to the prosecution and her defense team.”
She stands and leaves the courtroom with the envelope in her hands, and the guard passes out the copies to the lawyers. Spencer walks to the defense table, speaking urgently to the lead attorney. From where I’m sitting, I only catch bits of what he’s saying.
“…hired a private detective the day she came to my house. He’s been following Clayton for weeks…” His brow is lowered, and he’s so focused.
