Tuesday morning, I sat in the second row of a small courtroom in the Knox County courthouse in Mount Vernon.
Even the fact that Becky had been kidnapped the day before wouldn’t convince the Knox County judge to move her court date for sentencing. Becky sat next to Tyler Hart in the row in front of me.
Timothy squeezed my hand. “It’s going to be fine,” he whispered. He was the only one from the Troyer family to attend. He told me that the Amish want as little interaction with English government as possible, but I wondered if Becky was hurt that her parents weren’t by her side for the verdict.
The bailiff faced us. “All rise.”
A rotund man in a black robe climbed to the bench. The judge sat, and so did the others in the courtroom. There weren’t many. Becky’s sentencing was not a big draw.
The judge’s bushy eyebrows knitted together. He addressed the prosecutor. “Do you accept the guilty plea?”
“We do.” The prosecutor wore a suit that must have cost half of his monthly salary.
The judge nodded and glared at Becky. “I hope you understand the seriousness of your offense, young lady. I understand some of the circumstances leading up to this accident were no fault of your own. The vehicle was tampered with; however, that does not discount that you were an unlicensed and uninsured motorist. A more experienced driver may have avoided the fatal accident.”
I shifted in my seat. That was a little harsh of the judge to say. Timothy touched my wrist, and I stopped squirming.
“I do,” Becky whispered.
“I can’t hear you,” the judge bellowed.
Becky cowered, but then straightened. “I do understand, sir.” She spoke in a clear voice.
“Good. It is the decision of this court to follow the prosecution’s recommendation. You are forbidden to apply for a driver’s license until your twenty-fifth birthday, you have one year of probation, and you must complete one thousand hours of community service.” He glared at her. “Although I usually feel that it does a young person some good, I don’t think in this case that prison time is needed.”
Tears pricked my eyes.
“Thank you, your honor.”
The judge slammed his gavel on the bench. “Hart, get yourself and your client out of my courtroom.”
Tyler nodded and shuffled Becky toward the exit. Timothy and I hurried after them. We met in the rotunda outside of the room.
“Is the judge always that cranky?” I asked Tyler.
“Always.” He grinned and patted Becky on the shoulder. “Well, kiddo, you’re going to be okay.” He shook my hand. “I’ll call you later today with the information about her probation officer.”
“I never thought I would be happy to hear about a probation officer,” I said.
Timothy threw his arms around Becky and they hugged. “Me either.”
Tyler tipped his head. “I have another case this morning, so I will let you all celebrate.” His footsteps echoed as he hurried across the rotunda.
Timothy pulled me into the hug with him and Becky. It was our own little circle, our own little family. When I first moved to Appleseed Creek, all I thought about was moving away from it. Now I wondered if I’d ever want to leave.
Together, we strolled out of the courthouse arm in arm. Timothy released me and gave Becky another big, brotherly hug.
As he did, I spotted an Amish man across the street, scowling at us. It was Deacon Sutter. I bit my lip. Soon the Amish district will need to choose a new bishop. Will it be Deacon Sutter? If the deacon wasn’t chosen, how will he react, and what were his plans for the disobedient Troyer family?
Becky tugged my arm. “Come on, Chloe, Timothy’s taking us to breakfast to celebrate.”
I pushed away thoughts of the deacon and smiled at Becky’s glowing face. “Breakfast sounds perfect.”