Months passed, each one marked by meetings with lawyers, updates from the police, and a growing bitterness that gnawed at Richard's heart. As the trial date approached, his anger hardened into a desperate need for justice. He wanted Tom to understand the weight of his actions—to face the life he'd shattered without mercy.
When the day finally arrived, Richard walked into the courtroom with his mother by his side, her arm looped through his as if to keep him steady. She looked over at him, her face etched with worry.
"Are you going to be all right?" she asked quietly, her voice filled with concern.
Richard gave a slight nod, though he wasn't sure if he believed it himself. "I have to be, Mom. For Sarah."
They took their seats in the plaintiff's section, with the rest of Sarah's friends and distant family members filing in behind them. Richard's eyes scanned the room, settling on the young boy seated at the defendant's table—a boy with tousled hair and a face too young to hold any real remorse.
Tom Morris's parents sat on either side of him, their expressions grave yet oddly serene, as though they'd prepared themselves for this moment. They were a powerful family, their wealth and influence evident in the high-profile solicitor seated beside them.
The judge entered, and the trial began. The prosecutor, a woman named Claire Townsend, laid out the case with a precision that was as clinical as it was devastating. She described the stolen car, the reckless driving, the intoxication, and the fatal accident in painfully clear terms. Her words painted a vivid picture of Sarah's final moments, each one stabbing deeper into Richard's heart.
As Claire's words echoed through the courtroom, he felt a hand on his arm. It was his grandmother, Margaret, her eyes filled with sorrow.
"He'll pay for this, Richard," she whispered, her voice steady despite the pain in her eyes. "Justice will be served."
But Richard couldn't shake the feeling that justice would never truly be served. Nothing they could do would bring Sarah back.
When Tom's solicitor took the stand, the tone of the room shifted. He spoke of Tom's "promising future," his "youthful mistake," and his "potential for redemption." He emphasized Tom's admission to the University of Liverpool, his good academic record, and the fact that this was his first offense.
"This was a terrible, tragic accident," the solicitor intoned, his voice smooth and polished. "But Tom Morris is still a young man with his whole life ahead of him. He has shown deep remorse for his actions and is committed to making amends. We believe that rehabilitation and community service will help him rebuild his life and contribute positively to society."
Richard's fists clenched as he listened, his jaw tight with rage. His wife was dead, and this boy's defense was that he had a "bright future" and had made a "youthful mistake"?
Finally, the judge delivered the sentence: rehabilitation, six hundred hours of community service, and no criminal record if he completed the program successfully.
Richard's world spun. He felt the air leave his lungs, the weight of the verdict settling on him like a suffocating blanket. His mother gasped beside him, covering her mouth with a trembling hand.
As the judge's words echoed through his mind, he rose from his seat and moved toward the prosecutor with numb steps. Claire Townsend turned to him, her face filled with sympathy.
"Why?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Why wasn't he held accountable?"
She hesitated, her gaze dropping before she replied. "Mr. Smith… he's just a kid from a good family who made a terrible choice. The judge believed in giving him a chance to turn his life around."
"A chance?" Richard's voice was thick with disbelief. "He took everything from me… from Sarah. And you think he deserves a chance?"
Claire's expression softened. "The system doesn't always seem fair, Mr. Smith. I'm so, so sorry."
Richard's face was expressionless as he looked at her. He didn't have the energy to yell or protest; he felt like a hollow shell, emptied by the unrelenting cruelty of it all. As he left the courtroom, he caught a glimpse of Tom Morris's parents embracing their son, relief etched on their faces.
He could hear Patricia's voice calling after him as he walked down the courthouse steps, but her words barely registered. The autumn wind whipped at his coat as he stepped outside, but he didn't feel its bite. His world had grown cold the moment he lost Sarah, and now, with this mockery of justice, it felt colder still.
With each step, the weight of his grief pressed down on him, heavier than before. The city's familiar streets seemed foreign, every face around him a reminder of the life he'd lost.