Chapter 7
The trial came in winter.
By then, I had grown two inches and learned that anger can sit quietly in your bones.
Carl faced charges for assault, attempted bribery, witness intimidation, and violating the protective order.
His lawyer tried to make me look arrogant.
“You pitched a perfect game, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You celebrated.”
“Yes.”
“You were proud.”
“Yes.”
He leaned closer.
“Would you say you enjoyed outshining Brandon?”
I looked at the jury.
“No. I enjoyed playing baseball.”
The lawyer frowned.
“But you knew Brandon wanted that position.”
“Wanting something doesn’t mean someone else has to fail.”
Coach Martinez smiled from the gallery.
Mom cried.
Again.
Carl testified against advice.
He said he only meant to “teach humility.”
The prosecutor replayed the trash can video from a parent’s phone.
The whole courtroom watched him lift me and throw me.
Then the envelope video.
Then the texts.
Then the protective order violation.
Carl’s face turned red.
Brandon did not testify.
Part of me was relieved.
Part of me wondered if he watched from somewhere and still hated me.
The verdict came late Friday.
Guilty.
Not on every count.
Enough.
Assault.
Attempted bribery.
Witness intimidation.
Protective order violation.
Carl was sentenced to jail time, probation, mandatory counseling, and a lifetime ban from youth sports events.
When they led him away, he looked at Mom.
Not me.
“You’ll regret this.”
Mom stood.
Her voice shook.
May you like
“No. I already regret the years before it.”
That was the bravest thing I had ever heard her say.
