Chapter 11 - Justice Served
Deliberations lasted less than four hours.
When the jury filed back into the courtroom, the foreman’s face was set in stone. The judge called the court to order, and Vanessa was instructed to stand.
""On the charge of First-Degree Murder in the death of Sarah Vance, how do you find?""
""Guilty,"" the foreman announced clearly.
""On the charge of Aggravated Child Abuse and Endangerment of a Minor, how do you find?""
""Guilty.""
""On the charge of Attempted Murder in the First Degree, how do you find?""
""Guilty.""
Vanessa’s knees buckled. Her defense attorney caught her by the elbow as she sank into her chair, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving with silent, self-pitying sobs.
Mark did not cheer. He felt no vindictive joy, no surge of triumphant adrenaline. Instead, an immense, suffocating weight that had rested on his chest for two years slowly dissolved into the cool courthouse air.
He walked out of the building into the brilliant midday sun. Reporters swarmed the granite steps, microphones thrust toward his face, asking for comments, reactions, soundbites.
Mark stopped at the top of the stairs, looked out over the city, and said only one sentence:
May you like
""Sarah has her peace, Lily has her future, and love won.""
Without taking another question, he walked down the steps to his car, eager to return to the only place that mattered.
