Chapter 14 - THE TRIAL
The trial of Victor Blackwood began eight months later.
By then, Amelia could walk without assistance.
Her scars remained.
So did the nightmares.
But every morning, Lily entered her parents’ bedroom before school and climbed between them.
Sometimes she talked.
Sometimes she simply needed to make sure they were both still there.
Ethan never complained.
The prosecution charged Victor with attempted murder, conspiracy, kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, fraud, obstruction, financial crimes, and multiple offenses connected to Jonathan Blackwood’s death.
Margaret Voss accepted a plea agreement and testified.
Richard Sloan did the same.
Peter Crane turned over hidden accounts in exchange for consideration.
Nora Bell pleaded guilty to her role in Lily’s imprisonment and Ethan’s poisoning.
Her cooperation helped locate several victims.
She did not ask Ethan for forgiveness.
She only asked that Lily receive a letter someday if Lily chose to read it.
Ethan agreed to keep it.
Not to deliver it.
That decision belonged to Lily.
Marcus Reed received reduced charges after investigators confirmed Victor had held Rachel as leverage.
He resigned from Blackwood security permanently.
Before leaving, he asked to speak with Ethan.
“I don’t deserve your trust.”
“No.”
“I don’t expect forgiveness.”
“Good.”
Marcus nodded.
Then Ethan added, “But Rachel is alive.”
Marcus looked at him.
“Build something better from that.”
Marcus left with tears in his eyes.
Claire Donovan testified publicly.
So did Thomas Weller.
Then Amelia entered the courtroom.
Victor watched her walk to the witness stand.
For seven years, he had controlled whether she slept.
Whether she ate.
Whether she saw daylight.
Now he could not control a single word.
Amelia looked directly at the jury.
“My name is Amelia Blackwood.”
“I was never dead.”
“I was hidden.”
She told them everything.
The fire.
The drugs.
The locked room.
The photographs of Lily used as threats.
The papers she was forced to sign.
Victor’s attorney attempted to challenge her memory.
“Mrs. Blackwood, you were heavily medicated.”
“Yes.”
“So your recollection may be unreliable.”
Amelia looked at him.
“My memories were unreliable.”
“That is why your client recorded most of his crimes.”
Several jurors almost smiled.
The audio evidence was played.
Victor’s own voice destroyed him.
Then came the question Ethan and Amelia had fought hardest over.
Would Lily testify?
The prosecution did not require it.
There was already enough evidence.
Lily wanted to.
Ethan knelt in front of her outside the courtroom.
“You do not owe anyone your story.”
“I know.”
“You can change your mind.”
“I know.”
“No one will be disappointed.”
“I know, Daddy.”
“Then why do you want to go in?”
Lily looked through the courtroom doors.
“Because he said I wasn’t real.”
Ethan’s eyes burned.
Lily entered.
The courtroom fell completely silent.
She was eight now.
She wore a yellow dress.
Not because anyone told her to.
Because yellow had become her favorite color again.
She took the oath.
The prosecutor kept the questions gentle.
“Do you know the defendant?”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“My dad’s uncle.”
“Did he ever tell you something about your father?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Lily looked at Victor.
“He told me my daddy would hate me if he knew who I was.”
“Was that true?”
Lily shook her head.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
She looked toward Ethan.
“Because he came back.”
Ethan lowered his head.
Amelia held his hand.
Lily continued.
“And he keeps coming back.”
The prosecutor nodded.
“No further questions.”
The jury returned its verdict three days later.
Guilty.
Count after count.
Victor remained expressionless until the final charge.
Conspiracy to murder Ethan Blackwood.
“Guilty.”
His shoulders dropped.
At sentencing, the judge described the case as one of the most calculated abuses of family power the court had ever seen.
Victor received a sentence that ensured he would spend the rest of his life in prison.
As officers took him away, he turned once toward Ethan.
Ethan did not look back.
He was watching Lily draw on a legal pad.
She had drawn three people holding hands.
May you like
Above them, in uneven letters, she had written:
HOME.
