“Given your past with this judge, my advice is to look suitably penitent throughout the proceeding,” Grier advises as we wait for Delacorte to appear from his chambers. The hearing was supposed to start fifteen minutes ago, but the judge is sulking in the back, trying to delay the inevitable.
Grier’s warning is unnecessary. I haven’t smiled much since I got the call from Ella on Saturday night.
“All rise, the Honorable Judge Delacorte is presiding.”
“Honorable, my ass,” East mutters loudly behind me.
Grier is facing forward, but his co-counsel, Sonya Clark, turns to glare at my brother.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Easton making a zipping motion across his lips. Ella is beside him, and she’s sitting strangely close to Dinah. I guess the two of them formed a weird bond the night that Steve confessed to killing Brooke because he’d mistakenly thought she was Dinah.
I still think Dinah is a snake, but holy shit am I grateful to her. Yes, she blackmailed my brother, but she also saved Ella’s life. If she hadn’t grabbed that gun out of the safe and come to Ella’s aid, things could have ended a lot differently. Thanks to Dinah, Ella is safe and Steve O’Halloran will be behind bars, charged with the crime that everyone thought I committed.
Every time I think about it, I want to punch something. That bastard was actually going to let me rot in jail for something I didn’t do. I know he’s Ella’s father, but I’ll never be able to forgive him for what he did. I don’t think Ella can, either.
Grier tugs on my jacket as a reminder to get to my feet. I stand, as ordered, and then wait for the bailiff to give us the okay to sit down.
With his black robe and gray hair, Judge Delacorte looks the part of an honorable man, but we all know he’s nothing but scum of the earth, burying the crimes of his punk-ass, rapist son.
Delacorte takes a seat and begins to leaf through the motion papers from the attorneys. All the while, the entire courtroom is on their feet. What a jackass.
After ten long minutes tick off the clock, the bailiff finally clears his throat. His red face displays his embarrassment. Not his fault his boss is a total dickweed. We all feel bad for him.
The cough gets Judge Delacorte’s attention. He raises his head, looks us over, then nods. “You may be seated. Does the State have a motion to make?”
There’s a lot of shuffling as people take their seats. The DA remains standing. It’s got to be tough to do this—admit that they were wrong about all the evidence and nearly steamrolled an innocent kid into prison. “Yes, we do.”
“And what is it?” Delacorte’s impatience isn’t even thinly disguised. He’s irritated he has to be here, even though this is his job.
Stoically, the DA announces, “The DA would move to dismiss the charges.”
“Under what grounds?”
It’s all laid out in the paperwork in front of Delacorte, but because he hates his life, he’s going to try to make everyone else equally unhappy.
“The grounds that new evidence suggests that the wrong individual has been charged. We now have another suspect in custody.”
“And this new evidence is the testimony of the girlfriend of the formerly accused and the estranged wife of the newly accused?”
“Yes.”
Delacorte huffs on the bench. “And the DA’s office deems this credible?” He clearly doesn’t want to let me off the hook.
I shoot a semi-worried glance toward Grier, who gives a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Okay then. If Grier is unflustered, then I’m not getting my boxers in a bunch.
“We do. We have a recording of Mr. O’Halloran confessing to the crime. The statements of the victims are corroborated by the initial physical evidence at the scene, as well as post-incident statements heard by Detective Cousins, Detective Schmidt, and Officer Tomas wherein Mr. O’Halloran admitted that he’d mistaken the identity of the deceased for his wife.”
“Are you absolutely certain you have the right person this time? The last time I was here, you swore that Mr. Royal was the perpetrator of this violent crime. In fact, we had a sentencing hearing scheduled due to the fact that he was going to plead guilty. Were you wrong then or now?” Delacorte says sarcastically.
The lawyer’s cheeks grow red. “We were wrong then,” he says, and despite his embarrassment, his voice is firm.
It’s so obvious that Judge Delacorte doesn’t want to rule in my favor. He wants me to rot. Unfortunately for him, he’s going to bed tonight with bitter failure in his mouth.
He picks up his gavel. “Motion sustained,” he snaps. “Anything else, counsel?”
“Yes, one more thing.” The prosecutor turns and whispers something to his co-counsel.
Grier begins to pack up his things.
“Are we done here?” I ask.
Grier nods. “Yes. Congratulations. You’re officially free of all of this.”
I take my first full breath since walking into the courthouse. “Thanks.” I shake his hand, even though the real person I should be thanking is behind me. Grier, on the other hand, believed I should plead guilty in spite of my innocence.
East reaches over the small railing, but his high-five halts in mid-air at the next words out of the prosecutor’s mouth.
“We’d like to bring charges against Steven George O’Halloran.”
I suck in a breath as Steve exits a side room, accompanied by a uniformed guard. Steve enters the courtroom and walks to the defense table, but his expressionless gaze doesn’t once stray in my direction. Or his daughter’s.
“Read them off, counselor,” Judge Delacorte says in a bored tone, as if this is an everyday occurrence. I guess it is for him, but it’s not for us.
Not for Ella.
I glance over my shoulder to find that her face is a mixture of horror and awful sadness. So I murmur to East, “Get her out of here.”
My brother nods, obviously agreeing that Ella doesn’t need to hear all these charges read out against her father. “Come on, Ella, let’s go. We’re done here,” he says in a low voice.
But Ella refuses to leave. She grabs Dinah’s hand, of all people. And Dinah, the gold-digger, the blackmailer, grips my girl’s hand in return. The two of them lean against each other as the prosecutor reads from the indictment.
“Steven George O’Halloran, hereinafter known as defendant, in the county of Bayview and the state of North Carolina, did knowingly commit murder in the second degree which resulted in the death of Brooke Anna Davidson.”
Grier’s warning is unnecessary. I haven’t smiled much since I got the call from Ella on Saturday night.
“All rise, the Honorable Judge Delacorte is presiding.”
“Honorable, my ass,” East mutters loudly behind me.
Grier is facing forward, but his co-counsel, Sonya Clark, turns to glare at my brother.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Easton making a zipping motion across his lips. Ella is beside him, and she’s sitting strangely close to Dinah. I guess the two of them formed a weird bond the night that Steve confessed to killing Brooke because he’d mistakenly thought she was Dinah.
I still think Dinah is a snake, but holy shit am I grateful to her. Yes, she blackmailed my brother, but she also saved Ella’s life. If she hadn’t grabbed that gun out of the safe and come to Ella’s aid, things could have ended a lot differently. Thanks to Dinah, Ella is safe and Steve O’Halloran will be behind bars, charged with the crime that everyone thought I committed.
Every time I think about it, I want to punch something. That bastard was actually going to let me rot in jail for something I didn’t do. I know he’s Ella’s father, but I’ll never be able to forgive him for what he did. I don’t think Ella can, either.
Grier tugs on my jacket as a reminder to get to my feet. I stand, as ordered, and then wait for the bailiff to give us the okay to sit down.
With his black robe and gray hair, Judge Delacorte looks the part of an honorable man, but we all know he’s nothing but scum of the earth, burying the crimes of his punk-ass, rapist son.
Delacorte takes a seat and begins to leaf through the motion papers from the attorneys. All the while, the entire courtroom is on their feet. What a jackass.
After ten long minutes tick off the clock, the bailiff finally clears his throat. His red face displays his embarrassment. Not his fault his boss is a total dickweed. We all feel bad for him.
The cough gets Judge Delacorte’s attention. He raises his head, looks us over, then nods. “You may be seated. Does the State have a motion to make?”
There’s a lot of shuffling as people take their seats. The DA remains standing. It’s got to be tough to do this—admit that they were wrong about all the evidence and nearly steamrolled an innocent kid into prison. “Yes, we do.”
“And what is it?” Delacorte’s impatience isn’t even thinly disguised. He’s irritated he has to be here, even though this is his job.
Stoically, the DA announces, “The DA would move to dismiss the charges.”
“Under what grounds?”
It’s all laid out in the paperwork in front of Delacorte, but because he hates his life, he’s going to try to make everyone else equally unhappy.
“The grounds that new evidence suggests that the wrong individual has been charged. We now have another suspect in custody.”
“And this new evidence is the testimony of the girlfriend of the formerly accused and the estranged wife of the newly accused?”
“Yes.”
Delacorte huffs on the bench. “And the DA’s office deems this credible?” He clearly doesn’t want to let me off the hook.
I shoot a semi-worried glance toward Grier, who gives a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Okay then. If Grier is unflustered, then I’m not getting my boxers in a bunch.
“We do. We have a recording of Mr. O’Halloran confessing to the crime. The statements of the victims are corroborated by the initial physical evidence at the scene, as well as post-incident statements heard by Detective Cousins, Detective Schmidt, and Officer Tomas wherein Mr. O’Halloran admitted that he’d mistaken the identity of the deceased for his wife.”
“Are you absolutely certain you have the right person this time? The last time I was here, you swore that Mr. Royal was the perpetrator of this violent crime. In fact, we had a sentencing hearing scheduled due to the fact that he was going to plead guilty. Were you wrong then or now?” Delacorte says sarcastically.
The lawyer’s cheeks grow red. “We were wrong then,” he says, and despite his embarrassment, his voice is firm.
It’s so obvious that Judge Delacorte doesn’t want to rule in my favor. He wants me to rot. Unfortunately for him, he’s going to bed tonight with bitter failure in his mouth.
He picks up his gavel. “Motion sustained,” he snaps. “Anything else, counsel?”
“Yes, one more thing.” The prosecutor turns and whispers something to his co-counsel.
Grier begins to pack up his things.
“Are we done here?” I ask.
Grier nods. “Yes. Congratulations. You’re officially free of all of this.”
I take my first full breath since walking into the courthouse. “Thanks.” I shake his hand, even though the real person I should be thanking is behind me. Grier, on the other hand, believed I should plead guilty in spite of my innocence.
East reaches over the small railing, but his high-five halts in mid-air at the next words out of the prosecutor’s mouth.
“We’d like to bring charges against Steven George O’Halloran.”
I suck in a breath as Steve exits a side room, accompanied by a uniformed guard. Steve enters the courtroom and walks to the defense table, but his expressionless gaze doesn’t once stray in my direction. Or his daughter’s.
“Read them off, counselor,” Judge Delacorte says in a bored tone, as if this is an everyday occurrence. I guess it is for him, but it’s not for us.
Not for Ella.
I glance over my shoulder to find that her face is a mixture of horror and awful sadness. So I murmur to East, “Get her out of here.”
My brother nods, obviously agreeing that Ella doesn’t need to hear all these charges read out against her father. “Come on, Ella, let’s go. We’re done here,” he says in a low voice.
But Ella refuses to leave. She grabs Dinah’s hand, of all people. And Dinah, the gold-digger, the blackmailer, grips my girl’s hand in return. The two of them lean against each other as the prosecutor reads from the indictment.
“Steven George O’Halloran, hereinafter known as defendant, in the county of Bayview and the state of North Carolina, did knowingly commit murder in the second degree which resulted in the death of Brooke Anna Davidson.”
