AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER1
Luna
In just nine minutes, Dominic’s blood would paint my skin and mark me for death.
Not that I sensed the cataclysmic chain of events that would soon unfold. Standing here right now, all I knew was that sweat laced my palms, just like it always did before hearing the jury’s verdict.
This anxiousness was honestly a good thing, though, because it reminded me how much my clients meant to me—the underprivileged people who didn’t have the means to defend themselves against a powerful and imperfect system. I’d become a public defender to make sure they didn’t get railroaded like my father did, who’d been wrongfully convicted for a murder he did not commit.
The day they took him from us, a piece of me was stolen, carved out of my heart with a rusty dagger. A wound that had spread toxins through my blood and never scabbed over.
But at least my dad was still alive. The poor victim my father was accused of killing would never be reunited with loved ones, and I never took for granted that I had a chance to get my father back.
My ultimate goal in life might sometimes seem insurmountable, but so help me, I was going to prove my father was innocent and get him out of prison. It was why I fought against the odds of our financially challenged circumstances to put myself through college and law school to become a criminal defense attorney in Chicago.
Did I meet my share of clients that might be guilty? Of course. And it bothered me, working the cases where people had intentionally broken the law, but defending them didn’t mean helping them evade consequences; it meant ensuring their rights were protected and their punishments were in line with their crimes. Plus, I was serving a greater good, upholding the justice system’s vital balance, and more frequently than people would assume, I worked cases where I firmly believed my client was innocent.
Like this one.
Dominic was not guilty of this homicide charge. There was no physical evidence tying him to the shooting of the victim, and Dominic’s ex-girlfriend—who claimed he did it—was an unreliable ex with a vendetta against him for breaking up with her. As for the victim owing Dominic money—the alleged motive—the victim owed many people money.
Besides, I knew Dominic. After my dad was arrested when I was in elementary school, Dominic stood up for me when other kids picked on me for our family’s tragedy—at his own social expense. That takes some serious moral character, if you ask me, and there was no way the boy who used to rescue caterpillars from the sidewalk before they’d be stepped on could have taken a life.
He’d moved away a few years later, and we’d lost touch, but he’d always held a special place in my heart.
So, when Dominic was indicted, I jumped at the chance to defend him. Professionally, I was confident in the case we’d built. Personally, a gnawing fear strangled my chest—what if it wasn’t enough?
I watched the eight men and four women of this jury walk to their seats, scanning their faces, searching for any clue which way this was about to go.
Judge Alcon shifted his gaze to the twelve jurors. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?”
Papers rustled, wooden seats creaked, and a bead of sweat slid down my back in the oppressive air. The columns that flanked the judge’s mahogany bench stood as strong as some of the verdicts handed down to people—the future of many lives changed forever with two powerful decisions: guilty or not guilty.
“We have, Your Honor,” the foreman said.
“Would the defendant please rise?” Judge Alcon looked over his wired glasses at our table.
Dominic and I both rose to our feet. I squared my shoulders, memories of sleepless nights and tireless work steadying me, yet I still couldn’t stop the tension from trying to squeeze my temples to death.
“We, the jury, in the above-entitled action, find the defendant, Dominic Hopkins…”
Hearing those words brought me back to when I was a little girl, my Mary Janes swinging inches from the courtroom floor, anxious for them to finally let my daddy come home and help me finish the tree house we’d started building together—having no idea that instead, we were about to enter a new hell.
“Not guilty.”
I released a breath so deep, that it turned into a shuddering sigh, a heavy weight having lifted from my chest, allowing me to breathe fully and freely.
Dominic’s chest sank six inches, too, and he closed his eyes as if allowing the significance of this moment to fully sweep into his heart before eventually looking at me.
“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you,” Dominic whispered, every word dripping with gratitude.
“Your freedom is the only reward I need.”
How wonderful that the grim chapter in his life had finally ended, and ahead lay a blank canvas, ripe with opportunities and hope. As his public defender, what a fantastic victory for me, too. Not many had managed to score a win against the prosecutor, ADA Hunter Lockwood, whose record was nearly as unblemished as an untouched snowfield.
But beneath my joy, an uncomfortable ache stirred within me like an insidious fog at sunrise.
If only Dad had this same outcome.
