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“Did you call anyone?” the judge asks, as invested in her story as I am.
Detective Pascall shakes her head. “I watched him take his last breath, relieved that he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, before I had him cremated and buried as a John Doe.”
There are holes in her story, many of them, but everyone but me seems oblivious to them.
The judge warns her as to the consequences of her confession in a court of law, and that acquitting me after a verdict has been decreed will shelter me from further prosecution, but she maintains her stance.
She takes blame for a murder she didn’t commit, and I’m helpless to stop her.
48
ARKADIY
“Ms. Palkova,” the judge begins, silencing the court, “after hearing the confession of the true perpetrator, it is clear that a grave mistake has occurred today.” The people shouting in anger only minutes ago cheer in glee when he bangs down his gavel while saying, “You are hereby exonerated of all charges.”
Mara’s eyes widen in disbelief as tears threaten to stream down her face. Her supporters mistake them as droplets of relief. I know that isn’t true. She’s upset for what Sanya went through and wondering if she had fought harder to have her father convicted of his crimes if she could have saved Sanya’s daughter from being hurt.
It will take a lot to convince her she isn’t at fault. Since I am confident I am the only man capable of achieving the seemingly impossible, I refuse to take steps that will deny me the opportunity anytime soon—if ever.
I’ve previously said Mara’s safety is my utmost priority—both mentally and physically.
That hasn’t changed.
Mara’s wet eyes flick from me to the bailiff when he’s instructed by the judge to remove her shackles. A wave of relief washes over me when their removal is swift and without incident.
The courtroom erupts into hushed whispers and murmurs as Mara rushes to embrace Tillie and me.
After a quick whiff of a scent no amount of desecration could alter, I step back, allowing Mara and Tillie to have this moment.
When I stray my eyes to Detective Pascall, who is in the process of being cuffed, a sense of triumph mixed with the sobering reality of how close we came to an irreversible injustice swamps me.
I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, that the justice system would, for once, protect the victim.
I should have known better.
The numerous injustices underaged victims of assault endure are one of the reasons I was running for president. I wanted to implement laws that would protect children like Karolina and Detective Pascall’s twelve-year-old daughter who committed suicide last month.
They couldn’t face the burden of an unjust world for a second longer, so they took matters into their own hands.
Technically, Mara did the same when she confessed to the crime I had committed. She has struggled for years to give Tillie the life she deserved, so when she thought an opportunity had presented to better her daughter’s life, she took it.
I’d be angry if I didn’t understand the incessant need to protect the people you love. It drove me to the playground of hell and added murderer to my list of achievements.
Detective Pascall’s claim that Mara’s father was alive when she returned to their hotel room is untruthful. Darius’s security team worked as fast as Detective Pascall’s partner did when he arrived at Mara’s motel room six years ago and found Sanyastanding over her husband’s body with the knife Mara had used to cut up an apple for Tillie stabbed in his spleen.
Dr. Babkin’s panic that Mara had living, breathing proof of his abhorrent crimes had him forgetting who he was purging to. He ranted and raved to his wife like she wasn’t the mother of his child or a police officer.
Like me, Sanya blacked out in a fit of rage.
One minute, she was standing in front of Luba.
The next, she was standing over his corpse.
I let Sanya moderate how much she wanted to share about her involvement with Mara’s father because, for now, while Mara’s confidence is fractured so poorly that she believed handing her daughter’s care to me was the safest option, I’d rather Mara believe Sanya had fallen in love with a monster than have her learn her father was never Sanya’s intended target.
She wanted Tillie.
Sanya was so profoundly overwhelmed with grief that she thought she could replace her daughter.
A child with half her bloodline seemed like an easy target.
Sanya was getting desperate. If she had found Tillie before framing Mara for the murder of her husband, so Tillie’s custody would be awarded to her grandfather, who had agreed to hand her over to Sanya for an undisclosed sum, I have no doubt she would have kidnapped her.
The time Sanya will serve for the crime she pled guilty to today won’t be close to what she would face for what the courts would deem as the unprovoked murder of her husband and attempted kidnapping of a minor, but locking her up and throwing away the key isn’t the right solution.
She needs help—medical and psychological. She will get that behind bars, and the charity I promised to establish in her daughter’s name for her confession today will assist her once she is released.
For now, my priorities are needed closer to home, with my wife-to-be and my daughter, who prove time and time again there are no limits when it comes to protecting the people you love, and that trust isn’t a word. It is a lifestyle.