“May it please the court, my name is Bradley Watkins, counsel for the Hawthorne family, and the participants in this action of proceeding with a defamation lawsuit.”
The judge nods, glancing at Jared, who goes next. “Jared Shein, defending counsel for Ms. Mackenzie Wright.”
“All right.” The judge pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Please proceed with your case, Mr. Watkins.”
The prosecutor stands from behind the table and picks up a paper from the stack before him. The judge looks down at his own, so it’s obvious he has a copy of everything.
“Your Honor, my clients’ names and the names of their families have been dragged through the mud after the death of Miss Wright’s twin sister, Madison Wright. As shown, there were no convictions or suspects, but still, Miss Wright took it upon herself to accuse and to harass the Hawthorne family and the young man’s friends. With a solid GPA of a 4.0 and a full ride to UCLA, I’m sure you can understand the gravity of these allegations being claimed against my client.”
“What exactly are these claims, Mr. Watkins?”
“Miss Wright believes my clients murdered her sister. There was no proof of such during the police investigation, and all the boys have alibis for the night. As shown in the pictures, Miss Wright decided to take it upon herself to vandalize the properties of Vincent Hawthorne, Marcus Whitehorn, Zach Covington, and Trent Ainsworth. The Pierce family is out of the country on vacation and unable to give details on their son’s behalf. As shown in the photographs, in blood red paint, or what we believe is spray paint, Miss Wright wrote ‘murderer’ across these four innocent boys’ garages. They’ll be off to college in just a few more days, and as you can imagine, having such heinous crimes and slander against their names could jeopardize the scholarships they worked their entire high school career preparing for.”
Tears spring to my eyes as I listen to the prosecutor. He’s wrong. They’re fucking liars. I grind my teeth together, and I dig my nails into my thighs, trying to keep myself together. An outburst here won’t do me any good.
“I would like to point out, Your Honor, that Miss Wright could very well be trying to pass off blame onto these boys as they’re about to start a new chapter in their life just to protect herself. How do we know she wasn’t the one who hurt her own sister the night of her death? It’s common knowledge around the town that the two fought constantly.”
I choke on a breath, my entire body going stiff with dread. He can’t be serious?
I make a move to get up, to yell and say he’s lying, but Jared grips my arm tightly, keeping me in place.
“Calm down, Mackenzie,” he murmurs under his breath, keeping his gaze fixed on the judge.
By the time the prosecutor finishes his spiel, I’m fuming. I’m barely keeping it together—my anger and tears are waging a war, both threatening to explode. The judge finally looks at me between bouts of whatever he’s reading. He glances at me from the tops of his glasses and straightens in his seat. He motions to Jared, giving him a chance to speak on my behalf.
“Your Honor, the prosecution’s case is nil. They have nothing against my client. Mackenzie has been a star pupil, a young, bright teen who has just suffered a tragic loss and is now being blamed for not only a crime she did not commit, but now, the prosecution is insinuating she murdered her own twin? My client is being falsely calumniated as a suspect. I should file defamation against Mr. Watkins and his clients.” Jared glances down at me out of the corner of my eye, and it spurs me to sit up straighter.
I can do this.
I can be strong.
I can do this.
“You can do this.” I freeze at the sound of her voice. I dart my gaze around the courtroom, searching for Madison, but, of course, she’s nowhere to be found. I shake my head, feeling as though I’m on the verge of a psychotic breakdown, and I force my gaze back up to Jared and the judge.
“As shown in the statements, my client, Mackenzie Wright, couldn’t have committed either of these crimes. Mr. Rodney Bower is the Wrights’ neighbor of sixteen years. In a statement obtained by the sheriff, Mr. Bower claims Mackenzie couldn’t have hurt her own sister or destroyed the property because he was outside the entire night on both occasions. He often sleeps during the day and stays awake at night, used to working the graveyard shift at the plant. Mr. Bower claims the night of Madison’s death, he saw Madison drop off Mackenzie. He watched one sister walk inside and the other drive off. On the night of the graffiti incident, Mr. Brower says much of the same. He was up all night, doing yard work, keeping an eye out for the children he swears keep moving his yard gnomes. He never saw anyone leave or come back to the Wright residence. Thank you, Your Honor.”
Jared takes the seat beside me, and he pats my leg comfortingly.
It’s going to be okay.
“Thank you, Mr. Shein.” The judge sighs. “On behalf of the court, I am dismissing all claims and possible charges against Miss Wright. Mr. Watkins, the next time you step into my court, please don’t waste my time. Let these children move on with their lives and move on from the tragedy. You’re dismissed.”
With his gavel slamming down, the judge pushes upright and starts walking out, shaking his head at the sheer stupidity of the prosecutor. Jared pulls me into a soft hug, and the tears I was holding back spill over. I’m still trying to process what just happened.
I’m going to be fine.
Everyone knows I didn’t do it.
I walk hand in hand with my mother down the hall, out of the courthouse, and time seems to slow when I spot Vincent and his family. His parents are having a heated discussion, and he’s watching me through narrowed slits. In slow motion, I can feel his eyes run up and down my body. I can feel his hatred permeate the air surrounding us. Just as we pass him, he shoots me a smirk before he and his family disappear around the corner.
With tears streaming down my face, I pass the city limits sign into Ferndale. The second I crossed over, I lost my battle with my emotions again. Everything is just as I remembered—a shrine of what it was years ago. It hurts. God, does it hurt being back here.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, trying to get the betrayed look on Baz’s face out of my head. I try not to think about him and all those women. I try not to think about him hating me. I can’t think of that right now. This is what I did it for. This is what’s important. Justice for Mads. I wouldn’t be here with these coordinates if it weren’t for everything I’ve sacrificed up till now.
I glance toward the GPS and follow the instructions. I head toward the state park entrance, but instead of parking in the lot, I keep driving, turning on my brights. I slow down, rocking over tree branches and barely missing trees as I drive the car through the woods.
If I’m correct, the coordinates will lead to the creek. If not there, then somewhere close. I can’t risk anyone seeing me, so obviously, leaving the car parked in the parking lot was not an option.
After a while, the electronic GPS voice alerts that I’ve arrived. Stepping on the brakes, I throw the car in park and slowly climb out. I shoot a wary glance around me. There’s a chill in the air tonight. The trees whisper with the force of the wind, and the branches and leaves crunch and snap.