You Escaped Justice for 50 Years? Cute. I Became the Judge Chapter 06

You Escaped Justice for 50 Years? Cute. I Became the Judge Chapter 06

Ethan still showed no sign of understanding what he had done.

“You did this!” he screamed at me. “You were out to get me! Who cares about that bitch? My grandfather will get me out of here!”

I looked at Victor, who had collapsed into his chair.

No.

That day would never come.

I brought down the gavel, and silence fell over the courtroom.

Then I rose, stepped down from the bench, and removed my judicial robe.

“Before we leave this courtroom today, there is one more injustice this legal system must answer for.”

“It began fifty years ago.”

“But I believe justice can still be done, no matter how much time has passed.”

The online comments immediately began racing across the screen.

[A fifty-year-old case? Wouldn’t the statute of limitations have run out by now?]

[What kind of case is this? Why did Judge Foster take off her robe?]

[Now I really want to know. Forensic technology was primitive fifty years ago. There must have been plenty of wrongful convictions.]

I continued.

“This story began in a remote Appalachian mountain community fifty years ago.”

“A young woman was accused of murdering her husband. No body was ever found, and the evidence against her was far from conclusive, but she was convicted and spent twenty years in prison.”

“She gave birth to their daughter behind bars.”

“Meanwhile, the husband she had supposedly murdered was living in wealth and luxury in Los Angeles. He took his wife’s money, married another woman, and built a new life with her.”

I turned toward Victor.

“Have I told the story correctly, Mr. Hawthorne Sr.?”

Fear slowly crept into his eyes.

The internet erupted.

[What does this have to do with Mr. Hawthorne Sr.? The timeline and his age both fit. Don’t tell me he was the man who faked his death and framed his wife.]

[I’m withholding judgment. Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne Sr. have always seemed deeply devoted to each other. I’m not accusing anyone until I see evidence.]

[Maybe Mr. Hawthorne Sr. only knows something about the case. His grandson may be a monster, but Ethan is still his family. Mr. Hawthorne Sr. has spent decades helping poor clients who couldn’t afford attorneys, and he has given generously to charity. One case shouldn’t erase everything he has done.]

Victor forced himself upright.

His lips moved several times before he finally managed to speak.

“Who… who are you?”

Grandma and I looked remarkably alike.

Yet even after staring at my face through this entire case, he still had not recognized her in me.

I looked toward the figure sitting in the far corner of the gallery

“I would now like everyone to meet Margaret Bennett, the woman who was wrongfully convicted of murdering a husband who was never dead.”

Victor slowly turned around, his eyes locking on Grandma as she stepped out of the gallery.

Deep scars crossed both of her cheeks.Both legs had been permanently damaged by the beatings she endured in prison, leaving her with a pronounced limp.

Yet she still wore a cheerful, almost childlike smile

She kept asking my mother beside her, “Where is Victor? Didn’t you say we were going to find Victor?”

Then she saw his face.

Memories from fifty years ago seemed to crash over her all at once, and the confusion in her eyes briefly cleared.

“You! It’s you!”

“You’re alive? How can you be alive?”

Dragging one damaged leg behind her, Grandma moved toward Victor as quickly as she could.

She cupped his face in both hands and ran her fingers over his cheeks as tears streamed down her face.

“How can you still be alive?”

“You made me suffer so much. How can you be alive?”

She repeated the words again and again.

Victor panicked and shoved her away.

“Who are you? I have no idea who you are!”

I caught Grandma before she fell.

She patted my hand, but her eyes never left Victor.

“You don’t know me?”

“Do you remember Margaret Bennett, the girl who brought you home when you had nowhere else to go?”

“Do you remember Margaret Bennett, who fed you, clothed you, and worked so you could stay in school?”

“Do you remember Margaret Bennett, whom you promised to marry beneath the old oak at the edge of town the day you were accepted to college?”

Grandma struck her chest as she spoke, every word breaking through her tears.

The comments surged again.

[So Mr. Hawthorne Sr. really is the man who framed his own wife?]

[I still don’t believe it based on one woman’s story. I’ve met Mrs. Hawthorne Sr. She was incredibly kind. They both always seemed like good people.]

[Exactly. Rich families deal with fake claims and shakedowns all the time. Plenty of people would love to get a piece of the Hawthorne fortune.]

Grandma reached into her pocket with trembling fingers and pulled out a document.

It was a wrinkled, yellowed certified copy of their marriage certificate.

Two names were printed clearly across it: Victor Hawthorne and Margaret Bennett.