Chapter 8 - The Confrontation at the Courthouse
The next week, I was called to the county courthouse to testify in Sarah’s preliminary hearing. Her defense team was pushing for a reduced bail, arguing she was a victim of abuse herself. Emily stayed with Officer Miller in a secure, private room in the back of the building.
When I entered the courtroom, Sarah was sitting in an orange jumpsuit, her hands shackled. When she saw me, she began to cry.
"Michael, please," she sobbed from the defense table. "I didn't know he put her in the cage that day! I swear I thought she was just locked in her room! He took my keys, he broke my phone—"
"You let him erase our daughter, Sarah!" I shouted, ignoring the judge’s gavel banging violently against the wooden block. "You watched him throw her life into a trash bag and you did nothing! You are just as guilty as he is!"
"Mr. Miller! Order in the court!" the judge bellowed.
Before the bailiff could move toward me, the heavy double doors at the back of the courtroom burst open. A chaotic commotion spilled into the room. A security guard was bleeding from a head wound, stumbling inside.
"Lockdown!" the guard wheezed. "He's in the building! He has a gun!"
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Panic erupted. The courtroom turned into a sea of screaming people throwing themselves under wooden benches. The alarms began to blare, a piercing, mechanical shriek.
Jason hadn't fled the city. He had followed us to the one place we thought we were entirely safe. He didn't care about escaping anymore; he was consumed by a psychotic desire to finish what he started. And he knew exactly where the secure witness rooms were located.
