Love... A Niall Horan Love Story

Chapter 37: Free

Brielle’s P.O.V.

I sat behind my lawyer, leg jiggling nervously. I was back in court, and Niall was here too. I haven’t seen him since I sang that song to him, basically telling him that yeah, he ruined me. I glanced across the aisle, sneaking a glance at him.

It was like we were in war. My dad and I on this side and my ex-boyfriend and my mother on the other side. It was scary, actually. Those two people were such a huge part of my life that I don’t really know why they suddenly switched sides, especially Niall.

Okay, that last one was a lie; we all know why he changed sides. The judge was getting ready, preparing his notes. I looked at the jury; they looked like they were ready for a good debate. I only hoped it was.

“The prosecutors will come forward,” the judge said.

The lawyer against me walked up and began his spiel. He outlined what happened that night, but it was wrong. He made me the killer, for one thing. He also made the fight worse than it was. I mean, all we did was yell at each other for maybe fifteen minutes. This lawyer was saying that we screamed at each other for hours, and that I slapped James before killing him.

Okay, where on Earth did he get the idea that I’d slapped James? There was absolutely no proof of that. Or was there? Honestly, after I came back home that night was a little blurry.

“Lucy Williams, please come up to the stand,” the prosecuting lawyer, his name was Mr. Goila, said.

That was my mother. My dad fidgeted in his seat as my mother slid out of the rows and walked up to the stand. I guess after not seeing his wife for about twenty years can be a little awkward. Just a little.

“State your name for the record please,” Mr. Goila said.

“Lucy Williams,” my mother said.

“What is your relation to Ms. Williams?” he asked.

“She’s my daughter,” Mum said.

“What is your relation to James Williams?” Mr. Goila asked.

“He was my son,” her voices caught on the ‘was.’

“What happened the night of your son’s death?” he questioned.

My mother began her story, how she was at work when it happened, and how when she came home she found James on the floor, dead.  This is where I found out what really happened that night. My mother was the one who called the police and medics, and then proceeded to try and give my brother first aid. It was no use. He died almost instantly.

That part relieved me a little, because the last thing I wanted was for James to suffer. My mother was sent down from the stand and the medical examiner that examined James’ body was called up.

“What is the cause of death?” Mr. Goila asked.

“Mr. Williams died from a gunshot to his head,” the medical examiner said. “He also had many lacerations on his wrists and a couple on his head, from struggling. He also was cut by something sharp on his chest, which was why he had a bloodstain on his chest.”

Then, Mr. Goila questioned the police officers that had examined the crime scene.

“Was there anything unusual about the crime scene?” Mr. Goila inquired.

“Nothing completely unusual,” one police officer, a no-nonsense man named Officer Pachino, said. “There was no sign of forced entry, so it was probable that James knew his killer.”

I felt everyone look at me when he said this and I felt my face redden. This certainly wasn’t helping me but then again, James knew a lot of people. He was the kind of guy that was friends with everyone.