Marriage and Mental Illness (Sequel to Tall Buildings and Pill Bottles)

Backhand Betrayal

VERY IMPORTANT AN:

Hey guys! My sister designed cool new covers for this series in honor of hitting 20k (OMG GUYS 20K) reads on TB&PB! I just wanted to say thank you all for being on this journey with me, and those covers are going to be uploaded on Tuesday! I just wanted to let you guys know so that you weren't startled, ha. Thank you all again, for everything.

Warning: Strong language and themes of violence potrayed.

John's POV

The courtroom was more packed than usual, reporters and interested civilians filing in to watch the ending. Even with the evidence that Adams had presented yesterday, Maxwell was still fairly confident.

The gavel banged, bringing order to the room as Maxwell stood. People shushed each other insistently, waiting to watch their newfound form of entertainment, already having forgotten the real consequences of it.

"When we began this trial, I brought up the prejudice that we all have. The ones we still have." Everything he did brought eyes to him, no one could bring themselves to look away, even as his eyes met theirs.

"If you've sat here through any of it, my hope is that those predjuices have shrunk, even just a bit. I hope you aren't disgusted by Olivia Bolaji, who she was. How horrible is that? To be digusted by a murdered girl? To not convict her killer because of your own beliefs?" He smiled grimly, hands shoved comfortably into his trouser pockets.

"What are those beliefs exactly? That she's inferior because of the color of her skin or her choice in partner?" He scoffed, anger bleeding through. "Now what does that have to do with justice being served to the man that killed her? Nothing. It has nothing to do with it."

His gaze shifted to the jury, "All I ask is that you set those predjuices aside. That you look at this case from the facts. From the testimonies, the evidence. If you look at this trial objectively, there is no way you can tell me that Paul Stewart is innocent."

Maxwell stood his ground, meeting the gaze of each jury member, even the man with sandy blond hair who'd avoided eye contact with him the whole trial. Sherlock had pointed him out to me, he'd been the most skeptical. The most prejudiced.

Maxwell shrugged once he was satisfied, turning his back quickly as he strode back to the middle of the floor. "Now, this isn't any ordinary murder, no, this was fueled by hatred. This, ladies and gentleman of the jury, was a planned hate kill, cruel in every aspect." He pivoted, words biting.

"Perhaps I ought to remind you that Olivia Bolaji had racial and homophobic slurs carved into her body while she was alive. She was tortured before she died. Do you really think that that wasn't done with intention? That is what the defense is trying to tell you, I'd think twice about that story if I were you. You have the power of the court, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, do justice here today."

He stood still for a moment longer, his words sinking deep into the carpet. He finally moved, sitting back down at his table. The judge spoke, something I didn't quite catch, I was watching as Maxwell forced his shoulders to relax, curling his hands into a fist before relaxing it again.

Adams stood in the corner of my eye, already beginning to talk with an air of arrogance.

"A sad story, really. A young girl gets killed by a white supremist, a planned attack to make a statement. Is this story sad? Yes. Is it true? No."

I took Sherlock's hand into mine, squeezing it gently. I threw Alice a glance, finding her chin raised in defiance of the idea. No matter the outcome, we would always know the truth. And we would never stop fighting for it to be revealed.