Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
SORROW
Finally, many months later that we find ourselves here, standing outside the courtroom.
The investigation into Tempest PD was wrapping up. Chief Stephenson losing his job was big news in our small town. As was Katy being granted emancipation.
But this one had been delayed over and over until finally their lawyer had run out of excuses. This was it.
I squeeze Banner’s hand so tight my knuckles bleed white.
I can’t help it. The last time I was here, everything crumbled around me.
Despite all the support, I can’t forget how many powerful friends the Bannerman’s have.
And that’s not considering those who aren’t actively against me—the ones whose hands are tied because the Bannerman’s have something to hold over their heads.
As I look around at the people coming to support me, I feel a lump in my throat, reminding me how different things are now.
Before I stood here alone. Not one person had my back.
In fact, too many were ready to step right over me when I fell.
Now, even if Banner couldn’t be by my side, Katy, Marcus, Olivia, and Wade would. And the list goes on.
I don’t think I truly realized how alone I’d been. It’s both humbling and terrifying because I might have something worth fighting for now, but I also have something to lose.
I feel a hand slip into my empty one, and I turn to look at Katy. She looks as nervous as I am. Her story is what turned the tide in the court of public opinion toward the Bannerman’s, but I’d have given anything for her to have been spared what she went through.
“I feel sick. I just want it to be over already,” she whispers.
I give her hand a squeeze. “I know, me too.”
“Whatever happens, we’ll be okay. All three of us,” Banner promises, kissing my temple as Aiden reaches the door and holds it open for us.
I offer him a smile. I feel bad that he doesn’t have Matilda with him, but she was worried that her attendance would turn things into more of a media circus than they already are.
She’s watching all the kids, though, so Blake, Callie, Olivia, and Wade can attend.
A hand squeezes my shoulder. I look behind me and offer Marcus a shaking smile.
“Deep breath,” he murmurs.
I do as he says and, with a nod, keep moving. We’re ushered into the courtroom and easily fill the seats on the left side.
I glance over at Mr. and Mrs. Bannerman, who are talking to their team of lawyers.
Banner is watching them too, his jaw clenched with anger.
I can’t imagine what this must feel like for him.
These are his parents, for God’s sake, people he loved and respected.
To find out what they did, not just to me but to Katy, is unforgivable.
They broke whatever bond was left between them, and I don’t even know if they care.
I lift Banner’s hand and kiss the back of it as the judge walks in and calls the court to order.
We sit and listen to the charges levied against them.
Almost all have to do with buying off police and medical personnel the night I crashed, falsifying evidence, and lying to pervert the course of justice.
I zone in and out for a lot of it. Both of them plead not guilty, which I’m not surprised about.
It won’t matter to them that an investigation into Tempest PD found evidence of such wrongdoings.
They still believe they’ll get away with it.
And I can’t help the small part of me that thinks the same.
Maybe it’s an echo of seventeen-year-old me having faith in the justice system, only to find out it was all a farce.
When Katy nudges me, I realize I missed something.
The chief walks toward the stand. Well, ex-chief now, I guess.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t finding his fall from grace amusing.
More so, he realized what kind of people the Bannerman’s are when they failed to have his back the way he had theirs.
I suck in a jagged breath as he’s sworn in.
He doesn’t look like the same man who harassed me just because his friends told him to.
As pissed as I am at the Bannerman’s, part of me realizes they’re lashing out because they lost their son.
This guy had no excuse, and his badge meant his morals should have been held to a higher standard than the whims of his old scotch-drinking buddy.
He places his hands in his lap after swearing on the Bible and glances around the room, his eyes connecting with mine.
Though I want to look away, I can’t. I think, for the first time ever, I can see remorse in his eyes.
Whether that’s for his actions or for getting caught, I don’t know, but it’s gratifying to see.
“Mr. Stephenson,” District Attorney Knowles starts. “How long had you worked with Tempest PD?”
“Thirty years, give or take.”
“And how long have you known Mr. Bannerman?”
“Even longer than that. Has to be around fifty years or so.”
“That’s a long time. Not many friendships survive the passage of time.”
“No, sir, they do not.” He sighs, looking at Mr. Bannerman.
“You were working the night Mr. and Mrs. Bannerman’s son, Alec Bannerman, died.”
“That’s correct.”
“Remind the court, please, of how he died.”
“He was in a car accident. Alec was riding in the passenger seat and wasn’t wearing a seatbelt when the driver lost control of the car and crashed it into a tree.”
“The driver being Miss Wells.” Mr. Knowles turns and indicates to me. As all heads turn my way, I look down at my lap, feeling my skin crawl from the attention.
“Miss Wells was driving, yes.”
“Did you know Miss Wells prior to the accident?”
“I knew of her. I had seen her in passing, often with Alec or John and Leanne.” He nods to the Bannerman’s.
“But you never spoke to her?”
“If I did, I don’t recall. She was a child. Perhaps in passing I said hello or goodbye, but there is nothing that stands out.”
“Alright, walk me through the events of that night.”
“It’s been six years. I don’t remember the specifics.”
“Really? Because I bet Sorrow Wells remembers everything.”
“Objection.”
“Sustained. Stay on the subject, Mr. Knowles.”
“Sorry, your honor. Okay, Mr. Stephenson, walk us through what you remember from the day of the accident.”
Stephenson swallows before he begins reciting what he remembers of the events that day, from when the 9-1-1 call came into the station regarding the crash to the officers dispatched to deal with it.
“So you weren’t actually on scene to begin with?”
“No. My officers were trained to deal with situations just like this one.”
“That’s fair. Did you visit the scene at all?”
“No, sir. I relied on the detailed reports of my officers and eyewitness statements.”
“And camera footage, correct?”
“Objection. Camera footage was not submitted as evidence.”
“True. However, it was collected, wasn’t it, Mr. Stephenson? Was it not?”
The judge looks between both legal counsels before nodding. “I’ll allow it.”
“Footage from home security cameras and doorbell cams was collected as part of the investigation, correct?”
“It was.” He swallows.
“Your honor. I want to submit the camera footage into evidence.”
The judge allows it, accepting the papers handed to him from the court official.
“What did you find on these camera feeds?”
“We were able to confirm that Miss Wells was the one driving.”
“Did she force Alec Bannerman into the car?”
“Objection.”
“I’ll withdraw the question, your honor.”
I lean my head on Banner’s shoulder as the prosecutor keeps poking the chief.
“Did Alec get in the vehicle at the same time as Miss Wells?”
“No. He chased the car down the street before jumping into the passenger seat.”
“The car in question was a Jeep Wrangler, 1997?”
“Yes. The doors had been removed, which made it easier for Alec to jump inside.”
I flash back to that day. I can still hear the wind howling, the rain pelting the windscreen so hard the wipers couldn’t keep up.
I didn’t care about any of it. The smell of blood in the air overrode every one of my senses.
All I knew was I had to get to the hospital.
Nothing else mattered. Maybe everyone was right, and I shouldn’t have been behind the wheel, but I was beyond rational thinking by then.
I was in full-on survival mode, and then Alec jumped in and grabbed the wheel, sealing both our fates.
“How long after Alec jumped in the car did it crash?”
“I don’t know exactly. Minutes.”
“So it could be argued that Alec chasing the car, jumping in the passenger side—clearly uninvited—and during a tumultuous storm, could have startled Miss Wells enough that she lost control of the car.”
“It was possible,” the chief concedes. “But we don’t deal in speculations, just facts.”
“Was Miss Wells speeding?”
“Again, with conditions as severe as they were, nobody should have been out on the road—”
“That’s not what I asked you, Mr. Stephenson. I asked if she was speeding. Did you find evidence of this on the vast array of camera footage or get testimony supporting this from those eyewitnesses?”
“No. There was never any proof that she was speeding.”
“So Miss Wells didn’t drag Alec Bannerman into the car, and she wasn’t speeding.
I’ve seen photos and read the stats to know the size comparison between the two, and I have to say Miss Wells would have had as much luck forcing Mr. Bannerman to put his seatbelt on as I would have, and I’m far bigger than she is. ”
“Objection, conjecture.”
“Withdrawn.”
Mr. Knowles rubs his hand over his jaw before he steps around the table and sits on the edge of it. “You didn’t visit the scene of the accident, but you read the reports, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
The prosecutor lifts a file from the desk and flicks through it. “A substantial amount of blood was found inside the vehicle.”
I swallow, feeling vomit rush up the back of my throat.