I leaned forward, placing both hands on the edge of the sink. For a second, I just breathed. The way men who had lived through worse things trained themselves to do. “Lawd if you get me outta this shit I’m living my life as a righteous family man," Imumbled, running my hand over my beard. The words sounded strange even leaving my mouth.
The bathroom door cracked open. "Yo lawyer say it show time brudda," Juste said sticking his head in the bathroom door quick before closing it. I straightened my jacket and looked at myself one last time. The man in the mirror didn't look scared. I turned and walked out of the bathroom.
My family and my lawyer were outside waiting for me. Mama stood near the wall with her purse clutched tight against her chest like she was holding onto something solid. Pierre leaned against the hallway bench scrolling through his phone like the whole thing bored him. Juste stood beside the courtroom doors talking quietly with my attorney. And Nia, she stood a little separate from the rest of them. Her hands folded in front of her like she had been standing there thinking for a while.
When she saw me step out, she walked toward me. When she made it to me, she started fixing my tie and rubbing her hands along my shoulders, knocking the slight wrinkles out of my suit jacket. Her fingers moved out of habit. For a second, I almost leaned into it. But something in her face stopped me. She wasn't smiling; she was just distant. "Good luck." She said, looking me in my eyes before moving to stand next to Mama. That was the most she had said to me in a month since that box came in the mail. I stood there for a second watching her step away. My chest tightened just a little. I told myself she was still here as my wife on my side.
My attorney cleared his throat. "Ready?" I nodded. We stepped toward the courtroom doors. I stood next to my attorney before walking into the courtroom with my family behind me. The courtroom smelled like old wood and paperwork. Every courtroom smelled the same. The judge already sat at thebench, flipping through a folder. The jury sat stiff in their seats, watching everything. The state attorney stood at his table, stacking papers like he had all the time in the world. I kept my face blank. That was another thing I learned early: Emotion was a luxury. And luxury got you buried.
The trial moved quick. The state was presenting evidence and holding off on getting to their key witness. Photos. Financial documents. Phone records. Nothing explosive. Just pieces that meant nothing alone but could build something dangerous when stacked together.
I sat there listening without reacting. My lawyer leaned over every few minutes, whispering something under his breath. I nodded every time. I knew they didn't have her. But I was sure the judge and the jury didn't. Jade was their golden ticket. The woman who could tie everything together with a neat little bow. But Jade was dead. And dead women couldn't testify.
My lawyer told me they still had her on the docket to testify, like they were still hoping she showed up. Hope was a strange thing to build a case on. But prosecutors did it all the time when they thought a story could scare twelve people into believing something they couldn't prove. I sat still at the defense table, hands folded on the wood like I had nowhere else to be. My lawyer shuffled papers beside me, but I didn't look at him. I kept my eyes forward.
"Call your last and final witness to the stand." The judge instructed the DA. His voice carried the kind of impatience you only heard from men who had already made up their mind about the direction of the day. I watched the lawyers at the state's table have a hushed conversation back and forward with one another. They learned in close, hands covering their mouths like whisperscould hide the truth. It didn't. Anybody who had spent enough time around courtrooms knew that looked like scrambling.
My lawyer gave me a swift side eye before turning his attention to the judge. He stood slowly, buttoning the front of his jacket like the moment belonged to him. "Your honor, how long do we have to wait for this witness?" My lawyer asked. His voice was steady.
The judge leaned back in his chair slightly. He turned his eyes toward the prosecution table. "Is your witness here or not?" He questioned the prosecution. The DA shifted his weight. He glanced back toward the courtroom doors like maybe somebody would magically appear if he stared long enough. "Your honor, it seems our witness isn't here. We would like to ask that the court postpone the trial until our witness is located." The DA spoke. A few people in the courtroom shifted in their seats. My lawyer didn't move. "Absolutely not. You'll have to proceed without her, and any evidence you have from her, the jury will disregard." The judge spoke. The words dropped heavy in the room. The prosecutor looked like a man who had lost control of something important. He nodded slowly, but the tension in his jaw said enough.
They rested and the Judge indicated the start of closing arguments. My lawyer didn't waste time. He stood up immediately. His chair slid back with a soft scrape across the floor before he crossed the room toward the jury. I stayed seated with my hand folded, watching. The jury looked tired. My lawyer stood in front of them with both hands resting lightly on the rail.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he started. His voice was smooth. "The state has spent the last hour presenting you with pieces." He paused. Letting the word hang there. "Pieces of conversations. Pieces of speculation. Pieces of circumstances."He turned slightly, gesturing toward the prosecution table without looking at them. "But pieces do not build a truth." The room stayed quiet. Even the bailiff had stopped shifting his weight near the wall. "What the state promised you at the beginning of this trial was a witness." He looked back toward the empty doorway behind the courtroom benches. "A witness who could supposedly tie all of this together." His hand lifted slightly. The room followed it. "But that witness is not here." Silence settled heavier. "And because that witness is not here," he continued, "the law is clear." His eyes moved slowly across the jury. "Anything connected to her testimony must be disregarded." He let the words settle. "That leaves the state with speculation." A few jurors nodded faintly. "Speculation about conversations that cannot be confirmed. Speculation about actions they cannot prove. Speculation about intentions they cannot measure. But speculation is not evidence." He took one slow step closer to the rail. "In this country, we do not convict people based on what someone thinks might have happened. We convict when the truth is undeniable." His hand lifted slightly. "And ladies and gentlemen, if the truth were undeniable, " He gestured lightly toward the empty witness stand. "She would be sitting there." Then he stepped back. "Thank you." He returned to the defense table and sat beside me.
My lawyer leaned slightly in my direction. "Relax," he muttered. I just sat there staring straight ahead. Because relaxing wasn't something I knew how to do in rooms like this. The judge spoke again. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you may retire to deliberate." The jurors stood. Twelve strangers holding the direction of my life in their hands. They filed out slowly through the side door. The courtroom doors closed behind them with a dull click. The room got quieter after that. Mama whispered something to Juste behind me. My lawyerstarted organizing his papers like he already knew how this would end.
The jury deliberated for 37 minutes exactly before everybody was gathered back in the courtroom. My lawyer had leaned over earlier and told me that if it took less than an hour, that was usually a good sign. Didn’t mean anything guaranteed. But it meant they weren't fighting with each other. Quick juries usually meant they had already made up their minds.
Once the jury and the judge returned, there was a minute before the judge asked the jury to read their final verdict. That minute felt longer than the entire trial. The courtroom had that same heavy silence you hear right before a storm breaks. My family sat behind me trying to keep it together for me, But I knew better. Nobody in my family treated moments like this lightly.
The judge looked down at the jury. “Madam foreperson, has the jury reached a verdict?"
"Yes, Your Honor." Her voice was clear. Once, a female member of the jury stood up and started sorting through papers before reading them. I watched her hands move. She didn't look nervous. Didn't look emotional either. Just another person doing a job. I felt my heart beating through my ears. Out of all the noise going on in the courtroom, it was all I could hear. The dull thump of it. Every decision I'd made led up to this moment right here. Every time I chose business over peace. Every time I believed control meant survival. All of it sitting in this room now. And right now, it was up to 12 people. I didn't know whether I would go free or not. People who didn't know my life. The only thing that went through my mind was that if I got off, I would fix everything I did wrong. It wasn't some dramatic promise. Just a thought that showed up quiet in the back of my head. If I gotoff, I'd fix things with Nia, stop letting business bleed into the house, give the kids more time, and clean up the parts of my life that had been getting messy.
The foreperson cleared her throat. The paper in her hands made a faint sound as she adjusted it. "On 3 counts of first-degree murder, we the jury find the defendant Not Guilty." The words cut through my thoughts, making me feel like wind had just been knocked out of my chest. My lungs emptied before I even realized I'd been holding my breath. The words not guilty echoed in my head. For a second, I didn't move. My brain needed a moment to catch up with what my ears had just heard. I went deaf to everything after that. The judge kept talking. Something about court being adjourned. My lawyer leaned toward me, saying something under his breath. Chairs scraped. People moved. But it all sounded far away.
This shit was finally over. I could move on with my life. This shit was no longer lingering over my life. I exhaled slowly. The air felt different now. Like something that had been pressing on my chest for months had finally lifted. My lawyer gripped my shoulder." Told you," he said. His hand stayed there a second longer than it needed to. Not congratulating me exactly. Just confirming the thing he'd been saying all morning. I nodded once. Words didn't feel necessary.
We followed the people flooding out of the courtroom into the lobby. The hallway outside was louder than it had been earlier. Shoes scraping across tile. Lawyers talking too fast. Reporters trying to get ahead of the next story. My lawyer walked beside me, talking about paperwork and filings that needed to be wrapped up before the end of the week. Something about making sure the state couldn't come back later with anything.
I half-listened. My mind was still back in the courtroom on the verdict. Those words kept repeating in the back of my head like they hadn't fully landed yet. My family stood off to the side in the lobby. Mama stepped forward first. She pulled me into a tight hug. Her arms wrapped around my shoulders, stronger than I expected. She was a small woman, but there was nothing weak about her grip. I felt her chin press against my chest for a moment before she pulled back. “Get your shit together. You won't get spared twice." She said to me before letting me go. Her voice wasn't soft, just straight truth. Mama didn't waste words on comfort. She believed in correction. Even when the danger had already passed. I nodded once with no argument.
She was right. Pops stepped forward next. He didn't hug. Instead, he dapped me up, his hand firm in mine, before he pulled me in halfway for a quick shoulder bump.
I turned slightly, and that's when I saw Nia. She had been standing a little behind Mama and Pops. Watching everything without stepping into it. She walked toward me slow. Same steady pace she always used when she was thinking through something. Her hair was in neat finger waves. Her dress simple. Nothing flashy. She looked like the trial hadn't shaken her at all. “Congratulations," Nia said to me with a slight smile. Her voice was calm. The same voice she used when she spoke to teachers at the kids' schools or neighbors at church events. “I’m happy for you." She said. I studied her face, looking for something, anything. But there was nothing there for me. Just that small smile.
"Thank you," I said. The words felt stiff leaving my mouth. Not because I didn't mean them. Because something about the distance between us made everything feel formal. Likewe were two people who had just met not two people who had built a life together. Before I could say anything else, Chiana stepped forward. She hugged me tight. “Congratulations, Jules," Chiana said, hugging me. Her energy was different. Like she was trying to fill the air, Nia left quiet. “You ready?" She turned to Nia, asking her before they turned to leave the courthouse.
It took me a second to process what she meant. Then it clicked. Ironically, my trial was on the last day of school for the kids. Nia and Chiana had planned to take the kids out of town somewhere. I figured it was a precaution for if the trial went bad. Better the kids were out of the city if things went left. If their father walked out of that courtroom in cuffs instead of a suit. Nia didn't look back when she turned toward the doors. She just walked. Chiana beside her. The two of them were already talking quietly about something. I thought about calling her name. If something needed to be said, it could be said later. Noles walked up to me, dapping me up, slapping my hand multiple times. "Nigga you ain’t gon believe the party I got planned for you tonight." He said, smiling. His grin stretched wide across his face.
The next morning, I woke up at home, layin’ on my back, staring up at the ceiling in the same clothes from last night. My head felt like somebody took a hammer to it and left the echo behind. The room was dim, the curtains barely letting the morning light through, and for a second, I had to sit there and piece together where the hell I was. Me and my brothers indeed did get fucked up last night. I don't even remember making it home.
The last clear memory I had was bottles on the table, music loud, Noles talking shit about the way I sat in court like I was bored instead of fighting for my life. After that, everything blurred. I rubbed my face slowly. I did remember Juste telling me yesterday after court that we would be making that move out in Florida within the next couple of weeks with that nigga Enzi. Business didn't wait. I was glad to be back on the ins of the business. That part of my life had always been clean. My head started throbbing, making me sit up in the bed.
The room tilted slightly before settling again. I was thirsty and dehydrated as hell. My mouth felt like sand. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly. The house stayed quiet as I made my way downstairs. Every step across the floor echoed more than usual. The kitchen still smelled faintly like coffee from yesterday. I opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. The cold hit my throat hard when I drank it. Half the bottle was gone before I even lowered it.
My phone and keys sat on the counter. Right where I must've dropped them when I came in last night. I picked my phone up, seeing a few missed messages from my brothers. Group chat blowing up. Noles talking about another party tonight. Pierre telling him to shut the hell up. Juste reminding everybody that business came before celebrations. Normal shit.