In a surge of fierce satisfaction, Antonio smiles as he watches the defense attorney’s knees buckle. “Look.” He nudges Jason. “The woman is nervous. She knows her client is doomed.”
Jason glances at the man and woman huddled in the hallway, then he takes his father’s arm. “Come, Papa. We should go inside.”
Antonio jerks free of Jason’s grip. “We have all day to sit. I want to stand here…and let them know Jeffrey will not be forgotten.” He lifts his chin as a photographer approaches, camera in hand. He stares, silently granting the man’s unspoken request for a shot, but a deputy runs over and reminds the stranger that photography is not allowed in the courthouse.
Antonio sighs in resignation. He glances behind him to be sure his daughters have come out of the restroom where they went to repair their makeup. The youngest is pale; the oldest has red-rimmed eyes. All of them look like grief-stricken women, as they should.
“No tears,” he reminds them. “Keep your chin up and pray for justice. Now…let us go inside.”
Like the stately patriarch his father once was, Antonio leads his children into the courtroom.