The Defense She Chose

The words "defense counsel" stabbed my eyes until they hurt.

Celia Drake mouthed two words at me.

"I'm sorry."

I almost laughed.

But under my suit jacket, my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Could one sorry smooth over everything?

Two months ago, my mother had been working her late-night food truck when she got into an argument with someone. She was beaten until her whole body was covered in injuries and her organs bled internally.

She already had high blood pressure, diabetes, and a handful of other conditions.

The night she was in the ICU, I signed six critical-condition notices.

I sat in that empty hallway, under the harsh white lights, on tiles so cold and hard the whole corridor felt like a place built for death.

I was so cold my teeth wouldn't stop chattering.

That was the most desperate night of my life.

My girlfriend, Celia Drake, was nowhere to be found.

No calls. No texts.

When I needed her most, she'd vanished from the face of the earth.

"Julian..."

My colleague saw Celia across the courtroom and panicked too. His lips moved slightly. "Isn't that your girlfriend? What's she doing over there..."

He couldn't finish the sentence.

Yes. It was ridiculous.

My girlfriend was now defending the murderer who had killed my mother.

Once court was in session, there wasn't the slightest trace of guilt on Celia's face.

I thought defending him was already shameless enough. I didn't expect her to argue that the killer had acted in drunken self-defense.

My mother was in her fifties, barely five-foot-three, and weighed maybe ninety pounds.

The murderer across from me was six feet tall and two hundred pounds.

Self-defense?

Ha.

I wanted to laugh, but I couldn't.

My fingers clenched around the case file until the papers trembled.

Looking at the woman I'd once loved, sitting opposite me, I felt cold all the way through.

I lowered my voice and said to my colleague, "Get ready to lose."

And we did lose.

The key evidence we'd prepared was suddenly gone.

The judge's questioning gaze fell on us, heavy with pressure.

My colleague was sweating through his shirt.

I said nothing.

The moment I saw Celia as my opponent, I knew losing was inevitable.