Chapter 13 - The Trial
Christopher’s trial began four months after Raymond woke.
Dr. Wallace had pleaded guilty and agreed to testify.
So had the hospital accomplice.
The evidence was overwhelming.
But the moment everyone remembered came when Raymond entered the courtroom.
Walking.
No wheelchair.
No cane.
Christopher watched him cross the room.
Raymond did not look at him.
I testified next.
The defense attorney tried to reduce me to what I had been when I entered the mansion.
Broke.
Desperate.
Unemployed.
A single mother.
“Mrs. Bennett, you had substantial financial difficulties, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And Mr. Winslow is extraordinarily wealthy?”
“Yes.”
“So you benefited from developing a relationship with him.”
I looked at the jury.
“When I met Raymond, I thought he was dying. There was nothing for me to gain by keeping him alive except keeping a human being alive.”
Silence.
The attorney changed direction.
He asked about the watch.
The supposed theft.
I explained.
Then prosecutors played the recording.
Christopher’s voice filled the courtroom.
“That’s certain?”
Wallace answered.
“As certain as medicine allows.”
Christopher lowered his head.
Three days later, the jury returned.
Guilty.
Conspiracy.
Attempted murder.
Kidnapping.
Financial crimes.
When Christopher was led away, he finally looked at Raymond.
“I was family.”
Raymond answered quietly.
“So was I.”
The doors closed behind Christopher.
I expected Raymond to celebrate.
Instead, he sat on the courthouse steps.
I sat beside him.
Theodore toddled between us.
“It’s over,” I said.
Raymond watched his grandson—because Claire had jokingly begun calling Theodore his “practice grandson”—chasing a leaf.
“No,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
Raymond looked at me.
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“Surviving isn't the same as living.”
And he had decided he wanted to learn how to live again.
