Epilogue
Three Months Later
The smell of mesquite and charcoal danced through the air, tangled with the soulful sounds of Frankie Beverly and Maze blasting from the speaker.
Kids were chasing bubbles, grown folks were slapping dominoes on folding tables like they were laying bricks, and somewhere in the mix, a cousin’s cousin was frying fish in the back of a pickup truck.
The Montrose backyard was alive with laughter, hugs that lingered too long, and plates piled too high.
This was what freedom looked like.
This was what victory tasted like.
This was Black joy—unapologetic, loud, and earned.
Hollis Montrose sat under a tent in the shade, stronger than he had been in weeks.
While holding a plate of ribs, he was gently rocking the bassinet that his beautiful three-month-old granddaughter was comfortably resting in.
Rocky stood beside him in a beautiful colorful sundress and summer straw hat with a wide brim, and her arm draped protectively over his shoulder.
“Hollis, you know you can’t eat all of that barbecue. It’ll have your blood pressure sky high,” she warned, wagging her finger in the air.
“Woman, if I survived ten bullets, then I know I ain’t gon’ let a little high blood pressure kill me,” he said with a grin.
Rocky gave him side-eye, then kissed his temple. “Sweetheart, I didn’t lose you to the shooting, and I’m not going to lose you to hypertension. Now put that rib down like I said,” she scolded.
Beau Lee Cooper sat across from Gigi, both of them balancing paper plates on their laps and trying to avoid barbecue sauce on their clothes. Beau Lee had already lost that battle—baked bean stain and all.
Also attending the celebration was the entire trial team: Capes, Alvarez, Nellie, Harpo, Finn, and his wife.
Finn was really happy to be at the cookout.
It was a new experience for him and his wife, but Beau Lee, Hollis, and Rocky knew it wouldn’t be a victory celebration without Finn.
And victory celebration it was, because it had just been announced the day before that the city of Chicago had agreed to a record forty-five-million-dollar settlement lawsuit that was filed on behalf of Hollis Montrose.
Gigi said, “Be careful, Beau Lee, you gon’ end up getting barbeque sauce all over that beautiful linen suit I picked out for you.”
Capes then said, “Well, Gigi, with this settlement, I think he’ll be able to buy another one.”
“Capes, don’t go spending the money before we get the check,” Nellie chimed in. “We got to make sure that a big check like that won’t bounce and that it clears the trust account.”
“One thing I can say is that I’ve lived in Chicago all my life. I think the city check will clear,” Finn said in jest.
“I still can’t believe we pulled it off,” Alvarez said, sipping from a red Solo cup.
“I know it’s been three months since the last day in court, but I’m still in awe of how you did it, Beau Lee.
I mean, the tension was thicker than Auntie Debra’s banana pudding,” she said, laughing.
“My heart was racing, but I got to tell you, Beau Lee Cooper, it seems like you were calm, cool, and collected no matter what.”
“I knew my brother was going to do his thang,” Harpo said, looking over at her. “Both of y’all did y’all’s thang.”
“It was a team effort,” Beau Lee nodded as he reflected about that last day of trial. “We made ’em tell the truth. On the record. Under oath. And Hollis, we didn’t let them twist your story into something that fit their comfort level.”
“They tried, though,” Rocky cut in. “Whewww—every time I watched the news, I’d get so mad. The way they tried to criminalize my king. They wanted to bury him before he even got out of that hospital and had a chance to prove his innocence.”
“They didn’t count on my wife being louder than their lies,” Hollis said, squeezing her hand. “And they damn sure didn’t count on Beau Lee Cooper and Princess Alvarez being willing to burn the whole courtroom down for the truth.”
“Now, hold on—” Alvarez lifted her eyebrow and grinned. “I wasn’t trying to burn anything. I was just lighting the match and letting Beau Lee do what he do.”
Beau Lee chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Ms. Rocky, it was just God using me to fulfill his promise to you. You remember when we first met, you said that God told you that your husband would not die in prison. So with His help, we brought him home to you.”
“Amen. Amen,” Gigi affirmed.
“You sure did bring him home to me,” Rocky said with joy. “Even though we got a lot of rehab to do, I declare my husband is gonna walk again one day.”
“From your mouth to God’s ears, baby,” Hollis said softly.
Gigi, Harpo, and Finn said amen in unison.
Beau Lee’s phone started buzzing. He glanced at it to see who it was. A private number. Probably another case. Another emergency. Another Black life in the crosshairs of corruption.
He let it ring.
Twice.
Three times.
“Go on,” Rocky said gently. “We know what you do.”
“You gonna get that?” Alvarez asked.
“No, he’s not,” Gigi answered, giving him one of those looks.
He dropped the phone back into the cupholder on the lawn chair. “Not today. Gigi’s right. Justice is always the priority. But so is this. This moment. This win. This breath.”
He reached for his sweet tea, lifted it in a quiet toast.
“To survival,” Alvarez said.
“To fighting and winning,” added Rocky.
“To the truth,” said Beau Lee.
Hollis raised his rib bone. “To the Beau Lee Cooper Law Firm, good barbecue, and still having my damn life to live.”
Laughter erupted around the table. Someone shouted for spades players. Somebody’s uncle hollered, “Don’t act like you wasn’t reneging last week!” The playlist shifted to “Before I Let Go,” and line dances kicked off in the grass like clockwork.
“Come on, Mama, Mr. and Mrs. Doyle, Mr. Beau Lee and Mrs. Gigi, I’m about to teach you how to line dance like us young people,” Jamillah yelled.
Justice had been served, but the real victory was this:
Black folks gathered under the sun, fed and free.
They had survived. They had told the truth.
And nobody—nobody—was turning down a plate.
The fight would continue tomorrow.
But today, they laughed and enjoyed the moment.