CHAPTER 8
Judge Torres turned her eyes toward where I was sitting, offering me a polite nod of respect before addressing the defendant.
"Mrs. Lillian Morales," Judge Torres asked, "would you like to make a victim impact statement before I pronounce the sentence?"
I stood up slowly, adjusting my jacket, and stepped up to the wooden podium in the center of the courtroom.
Maxwell looked at me, his eyes wide with desperate hope, silently begging me to ask the judge for mercy.
I looked at my eldest child—the boy I had stayed up with during feverish nights, the young man whose debts I had paid over and over again, only to be rewarded with betrayal.
"Your Honor," I began, my voice steady, clear, and resonant throughout the quiet room. "I spent my youth building a life out of nothing so my children would never know poverty or fear."
Maxwell swallowed hard, looking down at his handcuffed hands resting on the table.
"I gave Maxwell every tool to succeed," I continued, "but somewhere along the way, he traded his character for greed. If I protect him from the consequences of his actions today, I would be failing him as a mother one last time."
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A quiet hush fell over the gallery as the weight of my words sank in.
"I ask this court to deliver a sentence that is fair, legal, and just," I finished, bowing my head slightly to the judge. "Not out of anger, but out of truth."
