Chapter Thirty-Three
Matlock
Previously, in the judge’s chambers...
The door to Judge Markham’s chambers closed behind us with a heavy click that echoed in the sudden silence.
I stood near the mahogany desk, my hands in my pockets to keep them from shaking.
Rosalind was across from me, her expression tight and controlled, but I could see the fury simmering beneath.
Sadie sat in one of the leather chairs, her hands resting in her lap, her eyes downcast. The court reporter sat poised to record our every word.
The bailiff stood by the door, silent and watchful.
Judge Markham moved behind his desk but didn’t sit. He looked at Sadie first, then at me.
“Ms. Nelson,” he said, his voice measured. “You stated in open court that you have proof. A recording.”
Sadie nodded, her fingers tightening around each other.
“I do, Your Honor.”
I stepped forward, my jaw tight. “Your Honor, I need to state for the record that I had no knowledge of this recording prior to Ms. Nelson’s testimony. She did not inform me of its existence, and I did not advise her to make that statement in court.”
Judge Markham’s gaze shifted to me, sharp and assessing. “You’re saying this was a surprise to you as well, Mr. Gallagher?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” I looked at Sadie, my voice hardening. “Sadie, did you tell me about this recording?”
She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “No.”
“Did I advise you to confess on the stand?”
“No.”
“Did I know you were going to say what you said out there?”
“No.” Her eyes finally lifted to meet mine, and I saw the guilt there. “I’m sorry, Tony. I just... I couldn’t let Simon go to prison for me. Not when I have proof.”
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to stay calm. “Your Honor, I want it clear that this was not a calculated defense strategy. My client’s sister acted independently.”
“Noted,” Judge Markham said. He turned to Sadie. “Ms. Nelson, do you have this recording with you?”
Sadie reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. The screen was marred with cracks. Her hands trembled as she held it out.
“It’s on here,” she said quietly. “I recorded it the night... the night it happened.”
Rosalind’s voice cut through the room like a blade. “Your Honor, this is highly unusual and inconsistent with standard courtroom practice. The defense cannot introduce evidence that has not been disclosed—”
“Ms. Winthrop,” Judge Markham interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. “Given the nature of Ms. Nelson’s testimony and the claim of proof, I’m going to review this recording in chambers before making any rulings. You’ll have the opportunity to object once I’ve seen it.”
Rosalind’s jaw tightened, but she nodded stiffly.
The bailiff stepped forward and took Sadie’s phone, connecting it to the screen mounted on the wall. The room fell silent as he queued up the video.
I stood frozen, my heart pounding in my chest.
What the fuck is on that recording?
The screen flickered to life.
The video was shaky at first, the angle low, as if the phone had been propped up on a counter or table. The timestamp in the corner read 2:24AM.
Then I saw him.
Alan Sanders.
He was standing in the middle of what looked like a kitchen, his face twisted in rage. His voice came through the speakers, loud and venomous.
“You think you can just leave me? You think you’re going anywhere?”
Alan shifted his stance slightly, and I saw Sadie.
She was backing away from him, her hands raised defensively. Her voice was shaking.
“Alan, please. Just let me go. I don’t want to fight.”
“You don’t get to decide that!” Alan shouted, lunging forward.
Sadie stumbled back, and Alan grabbed her by the arm, yanking her toward him. She cried out, trying to pull away, but he was stronger.
“You’re mine,” he snarled. “You don’t get to walk away from me. You don’t get to embarrass me like this.”
“Let go of me!” Sadie screamed, her voice breaking.
Alan’s hand shot out and struck her across the face.
The sound of the slap echoed through the chamber.
I felt my hands curl into fists.
Sadie fell to the floor, and Alan loomed over her, his fists clenched.
“You’re nothing without me,” he spat. “You’re pathetic. Worthless. No one else would ever want you.”
Sadie was sobbing now, her hands covering her face.
And then Alan reached down and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her off the floor.
“I should’ve done this a long time ago,” he said, his voice cold. “Maybe then you’d learn to fucking listen.”
Sadie’s hands clawed at his, her legs kicking weakly. Her face was turning red. Suddenly, Alan’s hand released her throat, and he dropped her. Sadie hit the floor hard, gasping for air, her body heaving as she struggled to breathe. Alan stepped back, looking down at her with disgust.
“Pathetic,” he spat. “You’re not even worth killing. Lying there like the worthless piece of shit you are.”
He turned away from her, walking toward the door, muttering under his breath.
Sadie pushed herself up on shaky legs, her body trembling as she braced herself against the wall for support.
She saw the knife on the counter.
Her hand reached for it, her fingers closing around the handle. Alan was still walking away, still muttering. Sadie moved, crossing the distance between them, and drove the blade into his back.
Alan gasped, his body going rigid. Sadie pulled the knife free and stabbed him again. And again. And again. Blood poured from the wounds, soaking through his shirt. Alan staggered forward, his hands reaching back uselessly, trying to stop her.
“You... you bitch,” he choked out, his voice weak.
And then he collapsed onto the floor. Sadie stood there, the knife still in her hand, her chest heaving. She stared at Alan’s body, the blood pooling beneath him, at the way he wasn’t moving anymore.
Her hand clenched around the knife as she reached for her phone.
The screen lit up her blood-stained face.
We saw her widened eyes filled with terror, her tears streaming down her cheeks, her mouth open as she took a shuddering breath of anguish.
Her trembling fingers fumbled with the device, her whole body quaking as she stared at the glowing screen.
The screen went black.
The silence in the chambers was deafening.
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
I’d won.
The case was over.
Simon would be acquitted of Alan’s murder.
Judge Markham cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
“We’ll reconvene at nine o’clock sharp. I suggest you all use the evening to prepare yourselves.” His tone was measured, professional, giving nothing away. Judge Markham’s expression softened slightly as he looked at Sadie. “You may go now. All of you. We’ll continue this matter in the morning.”
He gestured toward the door, a clear dismissal. The bailiff moved to open it, waiting for us to file out.
I moved on shaky legs and gestured for Sadie to precede me. As we moved toward the exit, Judge Markham spoke once more, his voice quiet but carrying weight.
“Get some rest. Tomorrow will be... significant.”
That was all he said. No promises. No certainties. Just the acknowledgment that everything was about to change.
I walked out into the hallway, my mind spinning.
Simon was waiting at the defense table, his parents behind him. His eyes locked on mine the moment I stepped out, and I saw the desperation there.
Tell me what happened. Tell me it’s going to be okay.
I walked toward him, my hands still shaking. The bailiff commanded us to stand as Judge Markham took his place behind the bench. He didn’t sit, nor did he give the courtroom permission to sit. He took a deep breath and looked out over the courtroom.
“Court is adjourned until 9 AM tomorrow morning.” He slammed the gavel down on the sounding block. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the courtroom.
“What happened?” Simon asked, his voice low and cautious.
“We need to talk,” I said quietly. “Not here. Let’s go.”
Simon nodded, his face pale.
The drive to Simon’s house was silent.
I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white, my mind replaying the footage we’d just watched in Judge Markham’s chambers. Over and over. Frame by frame.
Alan’s hands closing around Sadie’s throat.
Her body convulsing, her eyes rolling back as she clawed at his wrists, her fingers scrabbling uselessly against his grip.
The desperation in her movements was not the calculated violence of a killer, but the primal thrashing of prey fighting for survival.
The knife. Her hand finding it on the table. The first stab was wild, panicked, driven by pure survival instinct. Then another. And another. Each one a scream without sound, a plea for her own life.
Alan collapsing. Sadie stumbling backward, the knife still clutched in her hand as if she couldn’t let go, her entire body shaking so violently she could barely stand.
The recording proved everything. Sadie’s self-defense was irrefutable. Complete. She had evidence that would have cleared her from the beginning. Simon’s confession, his sacrifice, his willingness to go to prison—all of it had been unnecessary.
And he’d done it anyway.
I’d won the trial. Simon would walk free. The case was over.
But so was the house arrest. The ankle monitor would come off. The legal obligation binding us together and forcing us into proximity, the excuse to be near him, to touch him, to pretend I had a right to him, would all disappear.
Simon was free now.
Truly free.
Free to leave. Free to find someone who wasn’t ashamed of being seen with him. Someone who would claim him openly, proudly, without hesitation.
Someone who loved him the way he deserved to be loved.
Simon had sacrificed his freedom without blinking.
I couldn’t even sacrifice my pride.
But watching that footage, seeing what Sadie had endured, what Simon had sacrificed to protect her, had left me raw in a way I hadn’t expected.
I glanced at Simon in the passenger seat. He stared out the window, his jaw tight, his hands folded in his lap. He hadn’t said a word since we’d left the courthouse.
I wanted to reach for him. To tell him it was over, that he was safe, that everything was going to be okay.
But I couldn’t.
Not yet.
Because even though the recording proved Sadie’s self-defense, Simon had still confessed. He’d still taken the fall. And Rosalind wasn’t going to let this go without a fight.
The legal complications weren’t over.
And neither was the emotional fallout.
I pulled into Simon’s driveway and cut the engine. For a moment, neither of us moved.
“Tony,” Simon said quietly, his voice hoarse. “What does this mean?”
I turned to look at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, exhausted. He looked like a man who’d been holding his breath for months and didn’t know if he could finally exhale.
“It means we have the truth,” I said. “On video. Irrefutable. The jury will see exactly what happened. They’ll see Alan attack Sadie. They’ll see her defend herself.”
“But I confessed,” Simon said. “I said I killed him.”
I kept my voice steady, professional. Like I was discussing strategy instead of processing what I’d just witnessed on that screen.
“And when they see the video,” I said carefully. “They’ll have no other option than to find you not guilty.”
Simon’s eyes widened. “But Sadie—”
“Sadie made her choice, Simon, the same way you did when you confessed to Alan’s murder. She’s protecting you.” I said. “And you’re going to fucking let her.”