Chapter Twenty-Two
“ W ill your client be addressing the court?” the judge asked Amy the following morning.
“He will be, Your Honor.”
His progress was slow and awkward, movements artificially shortened by the chains around his ankles. They clinked together with each step, a cheerless jingle that reminded them all of the years of freedom he’d lost as a consequence of that night between him and his father. He settled in at the stand, putting his bound hands in his lap after swearing unenthusiastically on the Bible they offered him, and he looked younger than he was as he waited for Amy to begin questioning him, like the ordeal of sitting through the trial had reduced him once again to the boy he had been the first time he’d sat in a courtroom. The course of his life had already been decided for him once and fear curved his shoulders in and kept his eyes glued to the floor until Amy softly spoke his name.
“Gabriel, why did your parents first send you away?”
He blinked at her for a moment, considering her question. “Too much money and not enough supervision, so I guess I did what rich brats do. I got drunk and smoked weed and chased after girls.”
“Is that all?”
“I had a temper,” he admitted. “By the time they figured out what was happening and tried to rein me in, I wasn’t too happy about it.” He looked back at the floor, exhaling on a deep breath that made him shudder and his lower lip tremble.
“Can you confirm the truth of what we’ve heard from the witnesses on the stand today?” she said, waiting for him to look up and meet her eyes. “About what happened after your parents sent you to live with your uncle?”
He nodded, clearing his throat. “Yes, I can.”
“The things that they said, that’s the way it happened to the best of your recollection?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is,” he confirmed.
“How would you describe your mental state the night that Hugh Myers confronted you?”
“Unstable,” he said clearly. “I wanted to go home but I didn’t believe that was possible.”
“Why is that?”
“I couldn’t go back to Richard’s after what he’d done, and I didn’t think they’d let me go home because I was even worse than I was when they’d sent me away. I drank more, did harder drugs, got paid for the sex and the violence.”
“Why didn’t you just lie about that?” Amy pressed harder but her tone remained soft. “So they’d let you come home?”
“Seth was going to tell them everything I’d done,” he said miserably. “Everyone I’d hurt, everyone he’d whored me out to, all of it.”
“In your mind, if you went with your father that night—”
“I would have absolutely been sent back to Richard.”
“You couldn’t tell them about what happened with Richard?”
He laughed, but it was a cynical sound. “My word against Richard Miller? He was a legend, the pinnacle of holiness, and I was a teenager with anger problems and a history of lying.”
“You’d been dishonest with them in the past?”
“Ever heard the story of the boy who cried wolf?” he asked, teeth flashing in a self-deprecating smile. “No one cares that you’re being eaten if they don’t believe it’s happening.”
“If you couldn’t go home, why didn’t you just leave? Walk away?”
“I tried,” he said, pressing his hands to his face and leaving red blotches on his skin from the pressure. “He’d promised my mother that he’d bring me home and he wasn’t listening when I told him I couldn’t do that.”
“And you decided to kill him?”
“I didn’t decide,” Gabriel said, looking at her pleadingly, begging her with his eyes to believe him. “I was talking to him, and he grabbed me. He was trying to pull me to the car … I don’t remember what happened. He was lying there and there was blood everywhere. On him, on me, on the ground.”
“What did you do after you realized that you’d stabbed him? Why didn’t you call for help?”
“I …” He shifted restlessly, tears sliding unnoticed down his face. “I don’t know,” he admitted weakly. “There was so much blood, and his eyes were open and staring at me. I screamed and screamed but no one came, not for a long time, not till the police showed up and arrested me.”
“How did you feel when you realized that your father was dead?”
His lips parted but no sound came out as he stared at her, swallowing reflexively over and over again as he tried to gain control of his voice.
“Gabriel?”
“I was numb,” he whispered. “I couldn’t understand it and some days I still don’t. It doesn’t feel real, even though I can picture it in my head. It feels like a dream that I can’t escape from.”
“Do you regret what you did?”
“I would give anything to go back and change what happened,” he said, looking at the ground again. “I didn’t just kill my father …what I did devastated my mother. I destroyed my family, and they didn’t deserve it. They weren’t perfect, but they didn’t deserve that,” he repeated.
“If you were given a second chance to be free in society, what would you do with it?”
He looked up, past Amy and the empty table to where Mia was seated on the bench between Brittany and her father. His eyes were still wet, but they were hot with purpose.
“I would spend the rest of my life proving that I’m sorry,” he said fiercely. “I would atone, make amends to everyone I hurt and use every breath I took to make up for the ones I stole from my father.”
“Thank you, Gabriel.” Amy returned to her seat after giving him a reassuring nod but they both looked nervous as the prosecution’s questioning began.
Mia tried to focus on the questions, but her hands were shaking and the sound of Mr. Price’s voice retreated until it was lost in the buzzing inside her head. Gabriel had done so well answering Amy’s questions, but if he fell apart under Mr. Price’s much more aggressive scrutiny, it could hurt his chances of ever being released.
It wasn’t until the cross examination was over and Gabriel left the stand looking shaken but relieved, that Mia was able to get her emotions under control. Gabriel glanced at her as he returned to his seat, and she was able to force a tight smile that she hoped disguised how close she was to tears.
Nothing remained for them after that but the closing arguments. Mr. Price and then Amy took the floor to give their speeches, a last push that they hoped would sway the twelve people that held Gabriel’s future in their hands, and then the prosecution getting the opportunity to offer a final rebuttal after Amy had finished.
“He deserves to be in prison for the rest of his life,” Price said, turning back to address the jury directly, “and the state of Texas asks that you continue to protect the public by sending him there. Give him the conviction that he has earned with his despicable actions.”
Judge Turner waited for him to return to his seat before speaking. “The jury has heard a great deal of information over the past few days, and they have a lot to consider as they determine a verdict. You’ll all be called back when they’ve reached a decision.” She tapped the gavel, and the jury left the room without looking back, giving no indication of which way their thoughts were leaning.
The guards removed Gabriel from the room as quickly as before, but this time he looked over his shoulder as he went, his eyes meeting Mia’s as he shuffled out the door and out of sight. His lips were turned up in a hopeful smile, but his eyes reflected the same fear and sadness that she felt inside.
“Well,” Amy said, turning to face them all as she gathered up her papers and slipped them into her briefcase, “there’s nothing left to do but wait.”
“How long?” Mia asked quickly. “How long will it be until they decide?”
“It could be days,” Amy said, holding up a hand to silence them all before they could protest, “but I doubt that it will be. We’ll get some lunch and then come back to wait. The verdict can be very emotional, best not to do it on an empty stomach.”
“Right,” Mia muttered, getting to her feet and following Amy out of the courtroom. After several days of being here, they had settled into a routine. The others left to grab lunch as Mia and her father picked at the meager offerings they’d purchased from the vending machine and waited for the others to come back.
Half an hour passed, and then an hour as everyone else filed back in slowly. They didn’t speak as they settled into the other benches in the hallway and slid into their own quiet waiting. They stared at the floor, picked lint off their sleeves, flicked aimlessly through the apps on their phones. Each cough or sniffle carried down the long quiet hallways, echoing off the wood paneling and down into the high-ceilinged foyer below.
They weren’t the only ones waiting, but Mia felt them with her like all of them existed in the same small bubble that drifted along outside of time and space. It consisted of nothing but them, the cheap carpet with its oddly creeping shadows, and waiting.
“They might not make a decision today,” Amy reminded them, not for the first time but, Mia realized as she glanced at the time on her phone and saw it was after four, probably for the last time.
She was steeling herself for that, for having to come back here again tomorrow for more waiting after pacing the floor for all night, when Amy’s phone dinged in her hand. She peered down at it, brow furrowed, then looked directly at Mia.
“It’s time,” she said gently. “They’ve made a decision.”
Mia nodded, words failing her as her legs turned to liquid and harsh buzzing filled her ears, drowning out everyone’s words as they led her blindly into the courtroom. She couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything except a rising urge to vomit that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to breathe her way through. Would the judge hold her in contempt if she threw up all over the carpet?
She swallowed, bile and terror coloring the flavor of her tongue, her mouth as dry as her fingers and toes were numb. Her father had to hold her arm to steady her when Judge Turner re-entered the courtroom—she couldn’t hold her body upright on her own.
There was no air in the room when she asked Gabriel to stand to receive his verdict.
Mia didn’t even remember them leading him back in. When had he gotten here? How long had she been oblivious to the world around her as she counted her breaths—one, two, three, four—to keep from screaming?
“This was a very serious crime,” the judge began, her gaze traveling from Gabriel to the lawyers at each table. “The magnitude of which was reflected in the charges the defendant faced. Has the jury reached a verdict?”
A white-haired woman in the jury box got to her feet. “We have, Your Honor.”
“And how do you find the defendant?”
“On the charge of capital murder, we find the defendant not guilty.”
Mia swayed on her feet. Capital murder in Texas was the same as first degree. She knew it wasn’t over, Amy had explained that the jury could find him guilty of any of the lesser included charges, but not guilty in the highest charge meant that he could not be given the same hopeless sentence as he had before. He would not serve a life sentence with no chance of parole.
The juror kept talking. “On the charge of murder, we find the defendant guilty as charged.”
Guilty. Not capital murder, but murder. A less punishable offense, equal to what most states considered murder in the second degree. They believed he had killed his father, but they did not believe it was a premeditated act.
Amy nodded in her seat, leaning over to speak to Gabriel as the rest of the courtroom shifted restlessly. They’d expected this. Amy knew how much they had hoped for an acquittal, but she hadn’t lied to them about the odds.
“Thank you,” Judge Turner said as the juror resumed her seat and Mr. Price huffed and reshuffled his papers. “Bailiff, please remand the defendant into custody until sentencing.”
Sentencing.
Amy had told them it took the judge an average of ninety days to make a decision in criminal proceedings, but she doubted that the judge would take that long in this case. A few weeks, she predicted, and then they would know. Then they would have answers about their future.
Gabriel didn’t look back as he was led away, but she could see the slight droop in his shoulders. It was far from the worst it could have been, but now that the tension of the moment had passed, they were faced with more waiting.
Sentencing was surprisingly similar to the trial itself. There was no jury sitting in the box, but Amy and Mr. Price once again faced the judge, each of them explaining their position and the requests they were making of the court. Mr. Price asked that the judge impose the maximum sentence—life in prison, eligible for parole after he had served forty of those years. Amy made their case for leniency.
Both sides had the chance to present witnesses to support their arguments and Dr. Engell testified again, speaking to the judge directly about the impact of Gabriel’s mental state and how she believed he was unlikely to re-offend. The prosecution spoke at length about the rights of the victims to feel safe, to know that their loved ones had received justice, but he was missing one crucial thing that Amy had explained would’ve been invaluable to the state’s position.
Normally this would be the time when the victim’s family could address the court and give their impact statements, tell the judge how deeply the loss of their loved one had affected their lives and ask for the imposition of a harsh sentence. But Hugh Myers’ parents were dead and his wife, despite the doubts and the anger that she felt toward their son, was not there.
Finally, it was over, and the courtroom quieted as Judge Turner began to speak. “A murder this violent, committed by someone as close to the victim as his own son, is a terrible tragedy, and the public must be protected.”
Mia sucked in air through her nose, her body floating, untethered, as she tried to understand the words that would give her hope or turn everything to ash. She was sobbing quietly, her knuckles pressed to her mouth to stifle the sounds until she tasted her own blood on her tongue. Mr. Price was looking quite smug at his table and Amy was rubbing Gabriel’s arm as he stared straight ahead, unmoving. If he was crying, too, Mia couldn’t tell from her spot on the bench behind him.
“However,” the judge continued, “circumstances in this case are extenuating and it is my professional opinion that a blatant miscarriage of justice occurred at this young man’s original trial. The sitting judge’s refusal to allow the jury to hear crucial evidence about a history of abuse and the defendant’s state of mind at the time of the murder was more than enough to warrant a new decision.”
Price was looking a lot less smug, his self-satisfied smirk starting to drop at the corners.
“He stands before me now, seeking justice again for the crime he committed. His new conviction shows clearly the inappropriateness of him serving a life sentence without parole, but now I must decide for myself when I believe there is a chance for him to safely reenter society and how much he should be punished for his actions of that fateful night.”
She sighed and pressed her hand to the bridge of her nose and Mia stopped breathing entirely, unable to force her lungs to work or heart to slow its frantic beat.
“My answer to the first question is that I do not believe that he would be a danger to others outside of those particular circumstances and that keeping him in prison is not necessary to ensure the public safety,” she said, looking at Gabriel as he stood absolutely still except for the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
His lips were tinged blue at the corners, the air passing through his panicked lungs too quickly to provide him the oxygen he needed. His emotions were written clearly on his face, not the blank slate stare of so many years ago, but the terrified look of a man with everything to lose.
“Which brings me to the question of punishment and what is fair in exchange for the life he stole,” the judge continued. “Something must be given, surely, but no member of the victim’s family has come forward to urge that this man remains imprisoned, and his crime was committed while he was a minor in considerable distress.”
Mia’s mind raced, her thoughts forging ahead to count how old she would be if he got a forty-year sentence … thirty … twenty-five …what if he only got fifteen when he’d already served thirteen of those years …
“It is my decision that the defendant in this case will receive a new sentence of twelve years, to be satisfied with the time he has already served in prison.”
Amy was gripping Gabriel’s arm so tightly that her knuckles were white as the judge wished them all a good day and tapped her gavel to dismiss them. She began whispering to him, quick and excited, as he looked down at her in stunned silence.
“What does that mean?” Mia demanded, leaning forward over the short barrier that separated them to grab Amy by the sleeve. “What does that mean?” she repeated, afraid to believe what her mind was telling her.
“It means he’s coming home,” Amy said, hugging Gabriel fiercely as the guards moved forward to take him away.
“Then why are they taking him?” Mia asked, trying urgently to slide by the others as she followed Gabriel toward the exit door. She came up short when Lilly stepped in front of her, Amy’s instructions to keep her from following more intimidating than Mia’s anger at being corralled.
“He has to go back.” Amy explained. “It’s normal for them to return him to the prison to collect his belongings while they process his release. The judge’s office will file the paperwork, and he should walk out a free man within the next twenty-four hours.”