Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
For several moments, she holds the room hostage with her silence—simply staring at Jameson’s father.
“Mr. Tate,” she says finally, “there is no ruling this court can issue today that will return the twenty-eight years that were wrongfully taken from you.”
“However, after reviewing newly discovered evidence, serious failures by your original counsel, and the circumstances surrounding your conviction, this court finds that your conviction cannot stand.”
Jameson reaches beneath the table and grips his father’s hand.
“On behalf of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, I offer you an apology that is decades overdue,” the judge says. “Your conviction is hereby vacated, Mr. Tate. You are free to go.”
For a few seconds, no one moves.
Then Jameson’s father lowers his head into his hands, and Jameson immediately wraps an arm around him as the courtroom erupts behind them.
Reporters rush toward the doors, cameras start flashing, and several people call Jameson’s name, but neither of them seems to notice.
Jameson pulls his father into his arms, and for the first time since I’ve known him, I see tears in his eyes.
I stay in my seat and let them have their moment, knowing that Jameson has spent almost his entire life waiting for this day.
Twenty-eight years, seven failed appeals, and one final verdict he refused to accept.
“Mr. Tate, over here!” A reporter calls out. “Come speak with us!”
Jameson and his father remain embraced, and they don’t let go for what feels like forever.
It’s not until security begins escorting people out of the courtroom that I realize those two won’t be following their original script either.
The rain has softened to a drizzle by the time I finally make it outside, and Jameson’s father is surrounded by reporters at the bottom of the courthouse steps.
Jameson and I are sharing an umbrella, watching him answer questions about what he plans to do with his first day of freedom.
“I told you that you didn’t have to come to this,” Jameson says. “I vividly remember saying I could handle this moment alone.”
“I didn’t think you actually meant that.”
“I did.”
“Well, you should know by now that I wouldn’t believe you.”
“Fair enough.” He lets out a low laugh and pulls me closer, but something about his laughter catches me off guard.
I’ve heard him laugh plenty of times before, but there’s something different about it today, something lighter than usual.
“I’m going to take some time off,” he says. “This was my last case.”
“What?” I stare at him. “Are you serious?”
“Very much so.”
“How much time?”
“Six months, maybe a year. Maybe even two.”
“Now I really don’t believe you.”
“I’m serious.” He slides an arm around my waist. “I want to spend as much time as I can with my father…and you.”
I nod, still not convinced.
“I’m planning to merge my firm with Hamilton & Associates,” he says. “That way, I can use the new partnership to take all the time I need.”
“They’re not going to like the type of clients you represent.”
“You must not have heard the latest news…” He trails a finger against my lips. “I won’t be representing the guilty anymore.”
“The allegedly guilty, you mean.”
“Exactly,” he says. “Unless I stumble across someone who intrigues me with their secrets and lies, and I want to give the case a chance.”
“I haven’t lied to you in a long time, Jameson.”
“What about secrets?” He narrows his eyes. “I have the feeling you’ve been hiding something from me.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Just me showing up here today.”
“You promise?”
“Maybe.”
“No, promise.” He kisses me, slow and deep enough that I almost forget we’re standing outside a courthouse surrounded by reporters.
Biting down on my bottom lip, he whispers against my mouth, “No more secrets. Promise me.”
“No more secrets,” I whisper.
After today…
I smile and rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat beneath his shirt as the rain continues falling around us.
There’s one last secret waiting for him on his living room table in New York.
A positive pregnancy test.
I found out this morning, and I almost called him immediately, but today belongs to his father and the twenty-eight years of freedom that were stolen from him.
Jameson has spent most of his life waiting for this verdict.
He can wait a few more hours for mine.
And something tells me he won’t be filing an appeal.
The End, Again