Chapter 7 - The Verdict
The jury deliberated for less than four hours.
When the bailiff announced that a verdict had been reached, the atmosphere in the courtroom grew so tense you could hardly breathe. Daniel squeezed my hand so tightly my fingers went numb, but I welcomed the pain. It anchored me.
Marianne stood next to her attorney. For the first time since I met her, she looked small. The arrogant posture was gone, replaced by a rigid, terrified stiffness.
The judge read the paper handed to him by the jury foreperson. He looked down at Marianne over his glasses, his expression radiating absolute disgust.
"On the charge of Attempted Murder in the Second Degree," the judge read, his voice booming over the silent room, "we find the defendant, Marianne Carter... Guilty."
A collective gasp swept through the gallery. Several of Daniel’s relatives began to weep. I let out a jagged sob, burying my face in Daniel’s shoulder as he wrapped his arms around me, shaking with relief.
"On the charge of Aggravated Child Endangerment... Guilty. On the charge of Evidence Tampering... Guilty."
The judge slammed his gavel. "The defendant will be remanded into custody immediately pending sentencing. Bail is revoked."
Two bailiffs approached Marianne with handcuffs.
Suddenly, the polished, wealthy socialite snapped. The reality of a prison cell destroyed the last remnants of her sanity. She violently shoved her attorney away and lunged toward the wooden partition separating the defense table from the gallery.
"You ruined my life!" Marianne shrieked, her voice a demonic, shrill sound that echoed off the high ceilings. She pointed a trembling, manicured finger directly at me. "He is a Carter! He belongs to me! You are nothing, Emily! You are white trash, and you stole my son!"
"Get your hands off the partition!" a bailiff yelled, grabbing her arms and twisting them behind her back.
"Daniel, don't let them do this!" she screamed, her perfectly styled hair falling into her face, her pearl earring flying off and bouncing across the wooden floor. "I am your mother! I gave you everything! Tell them I made a mistake! Daniel!"
Daniel stood up. He walked slowly to the wooden gate, stopping just a few feet away from the woman thrashing against the bailiffs. He looked at her with a profound, quiet pity.
"You didn't make a mistake, Mom," Daniel said softly, though the entire room could hear him. "You made a choice. You chose your pride over my son's life. You are not my mother anymore. And you will never, ever see my family again."
Marianne wailed—a guttural, animalistic sound of pure defeat—as the bailiffs dragged her through the side door leading to the holding cells. The heavy steel door slammed shut behind her, cutting off her screams.
It was over. The dragon was slain.
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I looked up at Daniel. His eyes were red, mourning the mother he thought he had, but his jaw was set with the strength of the father he had become. We walked out of the courthouse together, past the flashing cameras of the press, stepping out into the crisp, bright afternoon air. For the first time in months, I took a deep breath, and the air tasted like freedom.
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