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I had no clue what all that meant, but it didn’t sound like he was going to die. The victimized women and their families were each awarded settlements of $250,000. I had no idea what that meant either, but it sounded like a lot of money.
Weeping, Mama leaped up from her seat. “He deserves the death penalty! All the money in the world won’t bring back my Mabel and her baby!”
Amidst an uproar, court was dismissed.
Mr. Shlumpy marched out of the courtroom, carrying his overstuffed briefcase. With a smug smile, he fisted his free hand and air punched his victory.
The man in the orange jumpsuit, his hands cuffed, his feet shackled with chains, stood, his expression grim, his shoulders hunched. He made eye contact with the woman in the pink suit. Her face didn’t move a muscle. Not a blink. Not a tear. Yet, I saw a deep connection between the two of them.
Then, he was ushered out of the courthouse by two mean-looking policemen, Mr. Slick by their side.
Gripping my hand, my still weeping mother slogged up the aisle, the lady in pink behind us. Just before she exited into the horde of paparazzi and reporters, all awaiting the outcome of the sensationalized, high-profile trial, my mother turned to the woman and spat in her face.
“You’re a murderer, too,” she cried out, tears dripping down her face. “You knew and let them die!” She spat at the woman again. “May God strike you down!”
That evening, Mama took me up to the roof of our twelve-story tenement where she used to like to watch the sunset. Still dressed in my pretty dress I wore to court and clutching Baby Reborn, I stayed close behind her because I had a fear of heights. I thought she was admiring tonight’s beautiful sunset, the darkening sky painted with streaks of pink and purple.
Turning around, she slipped off her rosary necklace with the locket that held a tiny photo of her and my sister. And handed it to me.
“Never forget us, my sweet Marley. Always keep us close to your heart.” She took a shaky breath. “And never forgive the terrible people who are responsible for our deaths.”
Confused, I watched as she climbed on top of the ledge and stood with her arms outstretched, as if she’d sprouted angel wings.
“Mama!” I cried out until I could cry no more.
Mama was taken from me. I became a ward of the state and was put into the system. My life was changed forever.
Dr. Yzak Milov went to prison.
Felony charges were never brought against privileged, rich, white boy Ned Sinclair.
He got away with murder.
FORTY-SIX
MARLEY
Now
A burning, wet sensation on my cheeks brings me back to the moment. Slowly opening my eyes, I at first think it’s raining, then realize I’m crying.
No matter how many years have gone by, I’ve never forgotten that life-changing day. Some memories fade; others grow brighter. Mine have no blurred lines.
Still kneeling, I place the bouquet—an arrangement of pale-pink roses and soft white baby’s breath—in front of the mausoleum.
I flick the locket open and stare down at the miniscule photo of my sister and mother, willing tears not to fall upon it. Snapping it closed, I put the rosary beads to my lips and say a silent prayer for them. And my sister’s baby. More tears fill my eyes.
Rest in peace.
Ned may be history, but they will never rest in peace until all their blood is on my hands.
And I claim what’s rightfully mine.
FORTY-SEVEN
AVA
After I hang up with Gabe, my thoughts are in turmoil. Confused and angry, I text Ned.
