The car ride to the courthouse was quiet, almost heavy with unspoken tension. I sat in the passenger's seat while my mother sat in the back seat. Benjamin’s hand rested on my knee, steady and grounding. My mother stared out the window, her face pale but calm, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
As we pulled up to the courthouse steps, the flash of cameras struck again just like last time, but this time, I didn’t flinch. We weren’t here to plead or beg. We were here for justice.
Benjamin stepped out first, helping me and my mother down. Marco was already waiting for us near the entrance in his crisp suit, briefcase in hand and eyes scanning the crowd.
“Are you ready?” he asked me.
I nodded once. “Yes.”
We walked in together. Security led us straight through, and I noticed some of the
