FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS ringed both wrists. I could name which birthday party each one had been made at, and by whom. I was wearing my most comfortable Batman tee and the bracelets went up almost to my elbows.
Brandon was sitting on my right, my dad on my left. My mother, on his other side, was twisting her wedding ring around her finger. I hadn’t wanted to come, but I knew I’d never forgive myself if I weren’t here for this moment, no matter how unprepared I was for it.
Dr. Wagner was sitting in the back row of the gallery. I’d had to pass her to make it to my seat closer to the front. I didn’t meet her eyes when I walked by.
“All rise for the Honorable Judge William Gillis.”
Brandon put out his elbow as he stood and I took it gratefully as I pulled myself up onto shaky legs. Instinctually, as our arms fell, I slid my hand into his. He closed his fingers over mine and held them, not tightly, but securely, in his massive hand. I focused on my breathing, the in-out of it, counting breaths in my head.
“Please be seated,” Judge Gillis boomed. We sat. “Let the record reflect that we have been rejoined by all the members of our jury panel. Good afternoon again, ladies and gentlemen.”
The first juror echoed the greeting. I was sweating. The formality of the exchange was strange and forced.
“Has the jury reached a verdict at this time?”
“We have, Your Honor,” the first juror answered. He was an older black man with gold horn-rimmed glasses.
We wouldn’t have been called back if they hadn’t reached a decision. My skin was crawling. Couldn’t they just get it over with?
“Will the defendant please rise?” Dustin stood to hear the verdict. I could see his legs shaking.
Forms were handed back and forth between the bailiff, the judge, and juror number one. Finally, it was handed to the clerk, whose voice was squeaky as he read into a microphone:
“In the matter of the People versus Dustin James Adams, we, the jury, find the defendant, Dustin James Adams, guilty of murder in the first degree, a felony, upon Katherine Anne Barrett, a human being, as charged in Count One of the indictment.”
I had to slap both hands over my mouth to stop myself from screaming, or maybe throwing up. My heart was going a mile a minute. Guilty? Had they really said guilty?
“In the matter of the People versus Dustin James Adams, we, the jury, find the defendant, Dustin James Adams, guilty of murder in the second degree, a felony, upon Erica Rose O’Brien, Jessa Inez Fuentes, and Jacob Hastings, human beings, as charged in Counts Two, Three, and Four of the indictment.”
I couldn’t help it: a squeak escaped past my lips. Or maybe it wasn’t me. Maybe it was Amanda Barrett, who was seated behind her son. Her son, standing while the verdict was pronounced. Her son, found guilty of murder four times over.
There was a rushing in my ears. I didn’t hear the sentence, or the judge excuse the jury and thank them for their service, two things I knew must have happened. All I could hear was the blood in my ears, the blood pumping, still alive. I covered my face with my hands and pitched forward, resting my forehead on my knees as hot tears spilled through my fingers.
Someone’s hand was on my back, rubbing it hard in small circles as I began to choke on air, the tears filling my nose. There was no flood of relief. No dam breaking. I cried because I was frustrated and angry. Dustin Adams spending the rest of his life in prison would not bring back Kate or Jessa or Ricky or Jake. Dustin Adams being named guilty meant nothing.
I looked up when it was all over. Brandon was telling me how strong I was, how brave, to have come to see the verdict read. I did not feel brave. I felt unsatisfied. But I smiled anyway when anyone looked my way, the best grateful smile I could manage.
We had won, after all.