The Honorable William “Bill” Halloway sat high above us. He had a face carved from granite and eyes that missed nothing. He had been the judge in this county for twenty years. He was known for being harsh, fair, and utterly unbribable.
Sterling continued his theatrics. “We have character witnesses who say John is unstable. We have medical reports of the devastating injuries my client suffered. We demand the maximum sentence. Twenty years.”
Twenty years. A life sentence for me.
Judge Halloway cleared his throat. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the silent room.
“Mr. Sterling,” the Judge said. His voice was low, gravelly. “You claim your client was attacked unprovoked?”
“Yes, Your Honor. He opened his door to be a good neighbor, and this maniac attacked him.”
“I see,” Halloway said. He picked up a file on his desk. “And the security footage?”
“The… uh… camera was malfunctioning, Your Honor,” Sterling lied smoothly. “Conveniently damaged by the storm.”
I smiled. I knew Mark had deleted it.
“However,” Halloway continued, “We have the police report. And the medical report of one Lily Sterling, admitted to General Hospital three hours before this incident.”
Mark stiffened.
“Mr. Sterling,” Halloway took off his reading glasses. He leaned forward. “Look at me.”
Mark looked up, arrogant but confused.
“Do you recognize me, son?” Halloway asked.
“You’re the judge,” Mark said.
“I am,” Halloway said. “But do you know where I spend my Sunday afternoons?”
Mark shook his head.
“For the last ten years,” Halloway said, his voice rising slightly, “I have spent my Sundays playing chess on a porch at 42 Maple Street. I drink iced tea. I talk about the war.”
Mark’s face went white.
“I was there when Lily graduated high school,” Halloway continued. “I was there when John taught her to ride a bike. I am her godfather.”
Sterling, the lawyer, turned pale. “Your Honor, this is a conflict of interest! You must recuse yourself!”
“Oh, I will,” Halloway said, his eyes burning with a cold fire. “But not before I enter a few things into the record.”
He held up a piece of paper.
“This is a sworn affidavit from the responding officer. He noted that Mr. Mark Sterling smelled of alcohol and admitted to ‘teaching his wife a lesson’ before he realized the officer’s body camera was recording.”
The courtroom gasped.
“And this,” Halloway held up another paper, “Is a motion from the District Attorney. Based on the injuries sustained by Lily—injuries consistent with torture—they are filing charges of Attempted Murder against you, Mr. Sterling.”
Mark started to hyperventilate. “No! That’s a lie! He beat me!”
“You threw the first punch, Mark,” I spoke up for the first time. “I just finished the fight.”
Halloway banged his gavel. “I am dismissing all charges against the defendant, John Vance, on the grounds of justifiable defense of a third party and self-defense. I am also issuing an immediate bench warrant for the arrest of Mark Sterling.”
“You can’t do this!” Sterling the lawyer screamed. “I know the Governor!”
“Call him,” Halloway said, standing up. “Tell him Bill Halloway said hello. And tell him that in my court, we don’t protect men who beat women. Bailiffs, take him into custody.”
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Mark screamed as they pulled him out of the wheelchair.
