Chapter 28 Oh, is there? #2
I study him while biting my lip. James Adams’s apologetic approach sends an empathetic feeling through me.
While I find it hard to accept his apology for what he’s done, if I want to put it all behind me and move on with my life, I’ll have to do something.
It won’t just magically happen by itself.
Indeed, this isn’t ideal – I shouldn’t have to accept an apology for bigoted behaviour that never should have been engaged in, in the first place.
Alas, the world isn’t perfect. Someday, things will be better for everyone.
And by accepting this apology, it might make my world a little better for now.
“Thank you,” I say to James.
“No,” he says. “Thank you.”
I smile, and he smiles back at me. Hope blossoms. Another bigot cured.
After that, James and I discuss his reason for requiring my assistance.
He needs to appeal a criminal conviction based on his client’s possible insanity.
Sitting across from each other as if we were friendly colleagues, I detail all the steps that James needs to take in order to commence appellate proceedings, from finding an appropriate barrister to corresponding with appropriate witnesses.
“Thank you, Nick,” James says when I’m finished. “Really. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I can’t wait to tell Ben all about this.
I meet Ben on the steps of the Criminal Courts of Justice.
He’s already dressed in his barrister’s robes and wig.
As I’m walking up to him, I’m struck once more by how handsome he is.
Beneath the sunshine, his figure is strong and domineering; he’s tall, his jawline is perfectly fashioned, and his glistening eyes are mesmerising.
Really, Ben Kehoe is the man of my dreams.
When Ben spots me, happiness overtakes him. A large grin forms at his lips. He rushes to meet me.
Without hesitating, Ben swallows me into his tight embrace. Pressed firmly against his soft torso, I almost feel intoxicated by joy. I cannot think of a time when I’ve been happier. Ben gives me a quick squeeze before setting me free.
“I got an email this morning about the mortgage application.” His expression is neutral; I cannot read anything from it.
“And?” My bottom lip quivers, and a prick of anxiety pierces my heart.
Ben leaves me in suspense for a moment. Then, the corners of his mouth lift into a smile.
“We got it,” he sings. “We got the mortgage approval.”
Worry escapes from my body. I jump with glee.
Ben embraces me once more. “We’re going to be homeowners.”
I squeeze him tighter. Happiness expands through my body. I’m beaming. Our celebration comes to an end shortly after.
Fixing his wig, Ben asks, “Are you ready to go inside?”
I take one last look at him. He’s perfect. I’m so lucky to call you mine. With contentment swelling in my heart, I look up at the courts and say, “I’m ready.”
Similar to Bethany’s previous trial, the courtroom is busy.
It’s filled with court staff, journalists, and other spectators.
Judge Lyons is presiding over this retrial.
He’s an elderly man, and he’s aged quite a bit since Bethany’s original trial.
The shake in his step has worsened, and his skin is somewhat jaundiced.
The court clerk, named Claire, still possesses the ability to expertly apply her winged eyeliner.
Ms Victoria Ahern and Mr Brian Murphy, prosecuting for the Director of Public Prosecutions, have once again done an excellent job in presenting their case.
And Bethany is sitting with a kind officer from the Central Mental Hospital.
Bethany looks better than she ever has before.
Her figure is fuller, like she’s actually been eating her meals, and her body no longer trembles when she sits.
According to staff at the Central Mental Hospital, Bethany hasn’t mentioned ‘the man’ in months. This is great news to hear.
There is one further difference between the retrial and the original trial.
This time, it isn’t Mr Thistlethorn that sits across from me.
No. It’s someone much better: Ben Kehoe.
As he’s sorting through documents, we catch a glimpse of each other.
Like he often does, Ben winks at me and then flashes a smile that reaches his eyes. Expectedly, elation ripples through me.
“Let’s hope we can finally put this case to rest today. Am I right, Claire?” I hear Judge Lyons lament to the clerk.
“Please God,” Claire agrees.
With all relevant parties in attendance, Judge Lyons directs his attention to the court guard. “Please let the jury in, Mr Gannon.”
The next set of events feel like déjà vu. Mr Gannon opens a wooden door and the jury enters.
“I have been informed that you have reached a unanimous verdict,” Judge Lyons announces when the jury have taken their seats.
The jury forewoman stands. She’s a petite woman with curly brown hair, likely in her late thirties. “We have, Judge.”
The entire courtroom falls silent.
The forewoman readies herself to answer. She inhales deeply. Then, she says them. Those six words that we desperately wanted to hear.
“Not guilty by reason of insanity.”
Outside the Criminal Courts of Justice, journalists and media outlets are filming segments for the news. I overhear some of their announcements:
“Incredible scenes today at the Central Criminal Court as Mrs Bethany Murray, who had previously been found guilty of murder, has just been found not guilty by reason of insanity in a new trial ordered by the Court of Appeal.”
“A case that has captivated the country. Bethany Murray has just been found not guilty by reason of insanity for the murder of her husband, Joe Murray.”
“…not guilty by reason of insanity. Bethany Murray will return to the Central Mental Hospital.”
I’m waiting on the Criminal Court of Justice’s steps for Ben. He has to disrobe and pack away his wig, so he’s still inside.
Mr O’Leary juts his head towards the media cameras. “I thought they’d be fed up of this case by now,” he says to me.
I rotate my eyes up towards the clear blue sky. “Me too, sir.”
Mr O’Leary’s hands are in his pockets. “Anyway, I won’t keep you.” He starts to move down the steps. “Keep up the good work, Mr Carthy. You and Mr Kehoe make an excellent team, just like I’d predicted.”
Nervous laughter spills from my mouth, and I break eye contact with Mr O’Leary for an instant. Tugging at my collar, I manage to say, “Thanks, sir.”
It isn’t long before Ben is at my side.
I motion to the media frenzy behind us. “Looks like we did it again.”
Closing the gap between us, Ben says, “This is what I should’ve done after the appeal hearing.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, inching closer to him.
This time, when I step closer to him, Ben does not flee. He takes me in his arms. One is at my hip; the other is wrapped around my back.
“This,” he whispers. He plants his soft lips on mine.
A warm, buzzing feeling fills me, causing my heart to flutter.
“I love you, Ben Kehoe,” I say, smoothing my thumb across his cheek.
“I love you too, Nick Carthy. Always and forever, and I mean that.”
I tuck my head into Ben’s chest. We hug while everyone around us watches.
I’m not worried about what people will think; judging by Ben’s actions in holding me, neither is he.
Tucked safely in Ben’s protective arms, I recognise one clear fact: my most important plan in life, my plan to be happy, has been fulfilled.
My life has changed forever thanks to Ben Kehoe. Every step I’ve taken and decision I’ve made in the past year has led me right to where I’m supposed to be.
A life with Ben Kehoe.
My life.
His life.
Our life.