Chapter 8
The jury deliberated for four days.
Four of the longest days of my life.
We stayed in a hotel near the courthouse.
Hannah’s parents took care of Noah.
I paced.
I watched the news.
I replayed every moment of the trial in my head.
Every mistake I’d made on the stand.
Every time the jury had nodded at something the defense said.
Every time they’d looked away from me.
On the fourth day, the call came.
The jury had reached a verdict.
We filed into the courtroom.
The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Mom sat at the defense table.
Calm.
Serene.
Almost smiling.
She knew.
She’d already won.
The jury filed in.
None of them would look at me.
My stomach dropped.
The judge asked the foreman to read the verdicts.
He stood up.
Held a piece of paper.
“Count one: Attempted murder in the first degree, victim Hannah Carter. We the jury find the defendant… not guilty.”
The room exploded.
Linda screamed in joy.
My father put his head in his hands.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Count two: Attempted murder in the first degree, victim Noah Carter. We the jury find the defendant… not guilty.”
Hannah squeezed my hand so hard I thought she’d break my fingers.
“Count three: Murder in the first degree, victim Sarah Carter. We the jury find the defendant… not guilty.”
I closed my eyes.
It was happening.
She was going to walk.
“Count four: Murder in the first degree, victim Ethan Carter. We the jury find the defendant… not guilty.”
The counts kept coming.
One after another.
Not guilty.
Not guilty.
Not guilty.
Seven victims.
Thirty years of horror.
All erased by twelve people who’d fallen for the performance.
The last count was the tampering with the medical device.
A lesser charge.
Maximum five years.
“Count eight: Tampering with a medical device. We the jury find the defendant… guilty.”
Guilty.
One count.
Out of eight.
Mom didn’t even flinch.
Five years.
With good behavior, she’d be out in two and a half.
Maybe less.
She’d be sixty-four.
Young enough.
Strong enough.
Free.
The judge set sentencing for six weeks later.
The gavel came down.
The courtroom erupted.
Linda ran to Mom.
Hugged her.
Cried.
Reporters swarmed them.
My father walked over to us.
His face was streaked with tears.
“Daniel… I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
“Just go, Dad. Be with your wife.”
He hesitated.
Then he turned and walked away.
Hannah and I left through a back door.
The cameras found us anyway.
Shouted questions.
“How does it feel to lose?”
“Did you make it all up?”
“Are you going to appeal?”
We didn’t answer.
We got in the car and drove home.
To the house where it had all happened.
I walked into the bedroom.
The spot where Hannah had been on the floor.
The outlet where the machine had been unplugged.
I fell to my knees and screamed.
Everything we’d fought for.
Everything we’d suffered through.
For nothing.
She’d won.
That night, Linda posted a photo on Facebook.
Mom, Linda, and Dad.
All smiling.
The caption:
“Justice has been served. My mother is free. Thank you to everyone who prayed for us and supported us. To those who turned their backs on family… God will judge you. We will never forget what you did to us. But we will forgive. Because that’s what Mom taught us. Family is everything. ❤️”
It had a hundred thousand shares by morning.
The comments were brutal.
“Told you so.”
“That poor woman.”
“I hope Daniel rots in hell for what he put his mother through.”
“Child Protective Services needs to take that baby away from those two liars.”
I deleted every social media account I had.
Changed my phone number.
Hired a lawyer to send cease-and-desist letters to everyone who’d defamed us.
It didn’t matter.
The damage was done.
We were the villains now.
The monsters who’d tried to lock up a sweet old grandmother.
Sentencing day came.
The prosecution asked for the maximum five years.
Cited the pattern of behavior.
The danger she posed.
The defense asked for probation.
Community service.
Time served.
The judge looked at Mom.
“Mrs. Carter. The jury has spoken. They found you not guilty of the most serious charges. But they did find you guilty of tampering with a medical device. A device that was keeping your daughter-in-law alive. That is a serious crime. People die when medical equipment is turned off. However… I have received over four hundred letters of support for you. From friends. From neighbors. From church members. From people whose lives you have touched. They all say the same thing. You are a good woman. A pillar of this community. I am also mindful that you have no prior record. That you are sixty-two years old. That prison will be exceptionally hard on you. Therefore, I am sentencing you to two years in a minimum-security facility. With credit for time served, you will be eligible for parole in fourteen months.”
Fourteen months.
Four hundred and twenty-five days.
That was all.
For seven victims.
For almost killing my wife and son.
Fourteen months.
Mom stood up.
Turned to the gallery.
Smiled.
And mouthed to me:
May you like
I forgive you.
I left the courtroom before I did something I’d regret.
