The Verdict He Deserves

“Order in the court!” I finally hear the bailiff. It took only about three hours for the jurors to deliberate. What was there to deliberate, really? The case is clear as day: He killed my nephew who tried to stand up for my sister and nearly killed her.

Everyone stands up as the judge enters the courtroom and takes her seat.

“Be seated!” the bailiff says. My sister melts into the court bench and grabs my right hand so tightly the knuckles on her left hand become white. With her right one, she is nursing a deep abdomen scar that still burns with the pain from the stabbing. I can tell that fighting a coming sob she switches her attention to him. So do I.

He is looking down, to avoid eye contact with anyone. He is shaking his head, probably in disbelief, “A verdict, so quickly?” I'm sure he has no remorse, he is simply incapable of it.

The courtroom becomes so quiet I can hear my sister's rapid heartbeat.

“I understand the jury has reached the verdict. You may bring the jury,” the judge says and the jury members file in one by one. They move fast, as if on a mission to finish this as soon as possible.

While the jurors are taking their seats, he turns his head to his lawyer and mumbles something quietly. I know how to read lips, but he is turned away from me. He then turns away from the lawyer. I can see his profile from my seat. He still whispers something under his nose. Praying? I doubt it, murderers like him don't know how to pray.

The jury is seated, and the judge says, “Madam Forelady, would you stand for me?”

Months ago when the trial started, my sister and I were relieved that a woman was elected to head the jury. We thought a woman's perspective would be important for the trial. The Forelady stands up, holding papers in her right hand.

“Have you reached the verdict?”

“Yes, your honor, we have.”

I can feel how tense my sister becomes. I didn't think it would be possible, but she squeezes my hand even tighter.

“Is it unanimous?”

“Yes, your honor.”

The tension now gets to me as well. I try to stay calm but I feel my heart trying to escape my chest. I'm not even on trial, I remind myself.

“Alright, please pass it to the clerk who will pass it to me. And you may be seated.”

The clerk quickly hands the papers to the judge. I catch myself thinking about how calm the judge is, keeping her face straight while shuffling and studying the papers. She is definitely a speed reader or she's seen so many of them in her life it doesn't take her too long to make sense of them.

“Defendant will rise,” the judge says calmly, with stone-faced expression. She waits for him and his lawyer to stand up. He stands slowly, towering over the desk. I so much hate that frame. He was so much bigger and taller than my sister, I always told her that he could break her like a twig.

“Madam clerk, would you please publish the verdict, starting with the first page,” the judge instructs.

"Publish?" I think. Such a strange word choice, as if the clerk was a newspaper.

The clerk reads the verdict out loud, citing the docket number, followed by a bunch of names and numbers, articles of the state criminal code. I only need to hear "guilty" or "not guilty."

Finally, it comes: “On the charges of aggravated assault and second-degree murder – ‘Guilty’ verdict.”

Relieved, my sister collapses into my arms. I whisper softly into her ear that she can finally live her life in peace, for her daughter. My niece survived the night of the attack only because she was at my house, playing with my kids. I tell my sister again that I will be always there for them, whatever she needs. We both cry happy quiet tears, trying to focus on the judge now saying something about the sentencing and thanking the jury.

The tension is relieved. The murderer will get what he deserves, 25 to life.