Prologue #3
“Detective Goddard looked straight into my eyes while my…my…while Harold Booker held a gun to my head.” Tears blurred his vision as he faced the judge.
“I’ve never had anyone look at me like that since before my grandmother died.
Like I mattered.” He blinked and hot tears ran down his cheeks.
“I see that look every time I close my eyes. And every time I know it should have been my life instead of his.”
“DaShaun, don’t…” A quick glance down at Mr. Conwell found the man’s eyes glistening, but he only shook his head at his attorney and once more turned his gaze on the judge.
“I won’t ask for forgiveness or for mercy…”
Mercy.
That one word struck him. He would do anything for Mercy Carter. Anything.
“I just ask for the chance to prove that I am the person who mattered to Detective Goddard. The one whose final moments said I did.” DaShaun shrugged. “I guess that’s all I have to say,” he murmured, sitting back down, his head bowed.
“Mr. Booker,” the judge said, pulling his gaze up to the man sitting across the room. “I’ve reached a verdict.”
“Your Honor?” Mr. James stood, his tone hard. “How could you have reached a?—”
“Are you questioning the Court?” The judge raised a brow at the other man.
“No,” Mr. James said. “No, of course not.” Then he returned to his seat, but even ten feet away, DaShaun could feel the other man’s frustration.
“We need to stand,” Mr. Conwell whispered close to his ear, then took his arm, guiding him to stand beside him.
DaShaun lifted his head, meeting the judge’s stare head on. Whatever was about to be said, he needed to face it bravely.
“Mr. Booker,” the judge said. “I don’t normally give verdicts so quickly. I sometimes ponder for days. But in this case, the testimony given had an overwhelming effect on me.” Then he grinned. Oh, not one that anyone could mistake as a smile, but his lips did move.
“I had basically made my decision prior to Ms. Carter’s address to this Court.”
Mr. Conwell gave a sharp intake of breath, while his grip on his arm tightened.
“But then you spoke, and it only confirmed what I knew the only outcome of this hearing had to be.” The judge stared at him, and it was almost like Detective Goddard all over again.
I matter.
“It is the verdict of this Court that DaShaun Booker has been found not guilty of all charges.” Angry voices raised in the courtroom, but he couldn’t make out the words.
His own harsh breathing and rapidly beating heart were the only sounds he could hear, until the judge’s loud, “Order,” filled the courtroom as he banged his gavel several times. “Order in my court.”
A strange silence followed, though a few whispers continued, until the judge banged his gavel again.
“Mr. Conwell,” he said. “You and Mr. Booker, in my chambers.”
****
“Have a seat,” Judge Schrimsher said, as he took off his robes. Up close and without the black robe on, he didn’t seem quite so intimidating. He was almost…
Friendly.
“Prior to your hearing,” he continued, taking a seat in his big leather chair and templing his fingers. “Mr. Conwell put in a petition to the Court.”
DaShaun remembered the discussion, but he hadn’t really thought anymore about it. He’d been sure that as soon as the trial was over, he’d been on a bus to the local prison. He’d had no hope that he’d?—
“According to the petition, you wish to be emancipated as an adult and change your name.”
“I…” DaShaun shook his head. “I did… I mean, I do, sir. I just can’t believe I’m… I can’t believe it’s real.”
“It’s real, son.”
Don’t cry… Don’t cry…
“Thank you, sir.”
“You’re almost eighteen?” The judged picked up the gavel lying on his desk.
“Yes, sir.”
“I see no problem with this first request.” The judge banged the gavel. “The first order in the petition is granted. Now, as an adult, you have majority for the change of name. And I see here you have chosen one.”
“Yes, sir.”
He’d thought a lot about what a new name could mean to him. To no longer be DaShaun Booker—no longer Harold Booker’s son.
The first name?
He’d chosen it because he’d come through a storm that had been his whole life. One where he’d been under water the whole time. If he could take that new first name, he would feel like he was walking on dry ground for once.
And the last name?
It was his grandmother’s maiden name. She was gone, but he’d wanted to honor her for every sacrifice.
For every time she’d been abused by his father for daring to protect him and his sister.
For every time she’d been treated like dirt.
After all she’d gone through, he wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d left them. But she hadn’t.
“Yes, Your Honor,” he said, then swallowed hard. “The name on the petition is the one I’ve chosen.”
“Very well, then. But I’m also adding something to this order that will be made part of the record.”
“Your Honor?” Mr. Conwell frowned.
The judge didn’t respond, just lifted his gavel.
“By the order of this Court, all records are now permanently sealed. The proceedings, the verdict, the emancipation, and change of name.” The judge held his gaze. “You deserve a fresh start. This is all I can do to attempt to make that happen.”
“What about Kianna?” He didn’t want to leave her behind. “Can she come with me?”
“Unfortunately, I can’t do anything legally until you are twenty-one.” The judge frowned, his grip on the gavel handle tightening. “But come back to me then and I will revisit.”
To say he was disappointed didn’t cover it. But he would believe the judge. The day he turned twenty-one, he would be back.
“Now, by the order of this Court, DaShaun Booker’s name is officially, and forever now will be…”
His heart raced, waiting. Then the gavel dropped.
“Noah Jennings.”