I stood frozen in the hallway, anxious and my heart beating so hard I could barely hear anything else. The FBI had just called me. The FBI. Why did they want to talk to me about Dad? My hands were shaking so much I could barely hold my phone, but I knew I had to tell Mom what just happened.

I took a deep breath and dialed her number. The phone rang twice before she picked up.

"Jake? Are you okay?" she asked, her voice full of worry.

"Mom…" I tried to keep my voice steady, but it was hard. "I just got a call from the FBI. They said they need to talk to me about Dad."

There was silence on the other end, and I could hear her breathing quicken. "The FBI? Did they say why?"

"No," I said, running a hand through my hair, trying to make sense of it. "They just said it was urgent. Mom, what's going on? Why would they need to talk to me?"

"I don't know, Jake," she replied, her voice tight with fear. "But it doesn't sound good. I'm at the courthouse for your dad's trial. You should come."

The thought of going to the courthouse filled me with dread, but I knew I had to be there. "I'm on my way," I said, already heading for the door. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

The rest of my morning shift was a blur. I couldn't focus on anything. My mind was filled with thoughts of Dad, the FBI, and what this all meant. As soon as my shift ended, I rushed home.

I didn't even take off my shoes as I ran upstairs to change. My hands were still shaking as I pulled on a clean shirt and pants. I knew I had to look like I had it together, even though I felt like I was falling apart inside.

The bus ride to the courthouse felt like it took forever. My stomach was in knots, and I couldn't stop thinking about what was waiting for me when I got there. What was I going to see? What was I going to hear?

When I finally arrived at the courthouse, I saw Mom standing outside, her face pale and her eyes red from crying. I hurried over to her, and she pulled me into a tight hug.

"Jake," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm so glad you're here."

"I'm here, Mom," I said, trying to sound strong for her. "What's happening? Did they say anything else?"

She shook her head, her face filled with worry. "The trial is still going on. They're about to give the verdict."

I nodded, swallowing hard. "Let's go inside."

We walked into the courthouse together, our steps heavy with dread. The air inside was thick with tension, and I could feel everyone's eyes on us as we entered the courtroom. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might burst.

When we stepped into the courtroom, it felt like the world had stopped. The judge was sitting at the bench, and there was Dad, sitting in the defendant's chair. He looked older, worn down by everything that had happened. But when he saw me, his eyes softened, and for a moment, I saw the dad I remembered.

I sat down next to Mom, my hands clenched into fists in my lap. The judge was speaking, but I couldn't focus on the words. All I could think about was how this could be real, how this could be happening to us.

The judge looked at me, his eyes narrowing. "Jake Johnson, do you have anything to say?"

I stood up, my legs shaking. "My dad didn't do this," I said, my voice trembling, but I meant every word. "He's innocent."

Then, the judge's words cut through the fog in my mind. "The court hereby sentences the defendant, Johnson Adam, to seven years in state prison."

After the judgement, the judge watched me for a moment, then said; Jake, if you are not satisfied with the judgement, you have an option to appeal.

I felt like my world was crashing down. Seven years? My dad was going to prison for seven years. I looked at him sitting there, his face pale and expressionless. He wouldn't even look at me or Mom. He just stared ahead, like everything had been sucked out of him..

I wanted to scream, to tell them they were wrong, that my dad was innocent. But I couldn't move. I was frozen, my mind spinning out of control.

My Dad with the police handcuff, walked down to where we were weeping and called my Mom, and me, and said, I love you all, and please, tell my Babies that Daddy loves them.

Beside me, Mom broke down, tears streaming down her face. I could feel my own tears starting to fall too. It was like everything was falling apart right in front of us. Dad wasn't just going to prison—our family was being torn apart.

I reached out and grabbed Mom's hand, squeezing it tight. We sat there, clinging to each other as if that would somehow keep everything from slipping away. The courtroom slowly emptied, but we didn't move. We couldn't.

Just as we were about to leave, my phone rang in my pocket. I wiped my eyes and looked at the screen. It was David, my best friend.

I took a deep breath and answered the call. "Hello?"

"Jake! Where are you? Why didn't you come to school today?" David's voice was full of energy, like he had no idea what had just happened.

I tried to speak, but my throat was tight. "David… I'm at the courthouse. They just sentenced my dad. Seven years…"

There was a long pause on the other end. "Seven years? Jake, I… I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah," I whispered, not sure what else to say. Everything felt so overwhelming. How am I going to get through this?

"Listen, Jake," David said, his voice softer now. "We're all here for you. You don't have to go through this alone."

"Thanks," I mumbled, trying to hold back the tears. "I just… I don't know what to do."

As I hung up the phone, I looked over at Mom. She was still crying, her face buried in her hands. I knew that from this moment on, nothing would ever be the same. We were about to face the hardest challenge of our lives, and I wasn't sure if we were ready for it.

But just as we were about to leave, the door to the courtroom swung open again. A man in a dark suit walked in, his eyes scanning the room before landing on us. There was something in his gaze that sent a chill down my spine.

"Mrs. Johnson? Jake?" he asked, his voice firm but not unkind. "I'm Agent Ralph with the FBI. I will sure have a private talk with you both— somedays. Anticipate my call."

Mom and I exchanged a worried glance. Why was the FBI here? What could they possibly want with us now?

The agent's expression was serious, almost grim. "It's about your father. There's something more we need to know."