Vicky held my hand.
Microphones appeared.
“Michael, how do you feel?”
“What would you say to Denise?”
“Do you forgive her?”
“What will happen to the inheritance?”
“Do you believe justice has been served?”
I looked at the cameras.
Then at Vicky.
“I don’t know if justice means things become fair again.”
The reporters quieted.
“Because nothing makes this fair.”
I swallowed.
“My parents don’t come back because someone goes to prison.”
Vicky squeezed my hand.
“But my sister is safe.”
I looked down at her.
“I’m going back to school.”
Then I looked at the courthouse.
“And we’re going to live our lives.”
A reporter shouted:
“What about the money?”
I almost laughed.
“The money?”
“Your inheritance.”
For months, that money had poisoned everything.
People had lied for it.
Manipulated a child for it.
Killed for it.
I looked at the cameras.
“Most of Vicky’s stays in trust until she’s older.”
