But Callaghan wasn’t done.
He pointed his gavel at Martin Harlow.
Harlow stood, looking like a trapped rat.
“Based on the evidence in this folder, I am finding probable cause to charge you with perjury, filing a false police report, and embezzlement. Bailiff, take Mr. Harlow into custody immediately.”
Pandemonium.
The bailiff moved with satisfying speed, spinning Harlow around and snapping the cuffs on his wrists—the same cuffs that had been on Darius an hour ago.
“You can’t do this!” Harlow screamed as he was dragged away. “I know people! This is insane!”
“What is insane,” Callaghan shouted over the noise, “is that it took a seven-year-old girl to do the work of the justice system!”
The Aftermath
The courtroom slowly emptied. The reporters rushed out to file their stories. Reynolds slinked away through a side door, his career likely in ruins.
Judge Callaghan made his way down the steps from the bench. It was a slow, painful descent, but he refused help. He walked over to them.
Darius straightened up. “Your Honor,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you. You saved my life.”
Callaghan shook his head. He looked down at Hope. She was looking up at him, her raincoat still dripping, her eyes bright and intelligent.
“I didn’t save you, Mr. Moore,” Callaghan said. He rested his weight on his cane and looked the little girl in the eye. “She saved both of us.”
Hope smiled. It was a shy, missing-tooth smile. “Did your legs wake up?” she asked.
Callaghan let out a laugh—a sound he hadn’t made in years. It sounded rusty, but real.
“Yes, Hope,” he said softly. “My legs woke up. And I think the rest of me did, too.”
“Keep this,” he said. “And when you grow up, come find me. The world needs lawyers who know how to ask the right questions.”
“I don’t want to be a lawyer,” Hope said, taking the folder. “I want to be a mechanic. Like my dad.”
Darius laughed, pulling her into a hug. “We’ll see about that, baby.”
Continue reading…
