Chapter 8 - THE TRIAL OF MARK COLLINS
The murder trial began fourteen months after Lily stood in divorce court.
By then, she was nine.
She was not called to testify.
Thank God.
Her recording mattered in financial proceedings, but prosecutors built the murder case without putting her through more.
I attended Mark's trial only on certain days.
The first.
Evelyn's testimony.
Dr. Monroe's testimony.
Closing arguments.
On the first morning, Mark entered wearing a dark suit.
He looked at me.
I expected some old emotional reflex.
Love.
Fear.
Guilt.
Something.
There was only recognition.
A man I had known for twenty years.
A man I no longer knew at all.
Prosecutors began with Robert.
Not Mark.
They showed the jury who Robert had been.
Business owner.
Father.
Husband.
Federal witness.
Then the cargo theft.
Mark's involvement.
Douglas's money movements.
The threat of exposure.
Dr. Monroe testified for nearly six hours.
His credibility was attacked brutally.
He deserved it.
He had lied for money.
But records supported major parts of his testimony.
Medication purchase.
Phone calls.
Payments.
Death certification.
Then Thomas Avery.
The retired federal investigator was eighty-two by trial.
He walked with a cane.
His memory remained sharp.
"Robert told me he feared his son."
Mark looked down.
Avery continued:
"He also believed Rachel Collins needed protection from financial misconduct."
My throat tightened.
Evelyn testified on day eight.
The prosecution asked:
"Mrs. Collins, did you love your son?"
"Yes."
"Do you love him now?"
Mark's attorney objected.
Overruled.
Evelyn looked at Mark.
"Yes."
The courtroom changed.
People expected anger.
She gave truth.
The prosecutor asked:
"Then why are you testifying?"
Evelyn cried.
"Because loving someone doesn't make their crimes disappear."
Mark finally looked at her.
She described the argument.
The lies.
The calls.
Her twelve years of silence.
"I thought protecting Mark meant protecting the family."
"What do you believe now?"
"I protected what was destroying it."
I wrote that sentence down.
The forensic toxicologist explained Robert's preserved sample.
The defense challenged degradation.
Contamination.
Interpretation.
There was scientific uncertainty.
Prosecutors did not rely on science alone.
They relied on behavior.
Planning.
Payments.
Monroe.
Douglas.
The audio recording.
Mark's statement to Vanessa.
"My father would've sent me to prison if I hadn't stopped him."
The defense argued stopped meant persuaded.
The jury would decide.
Douglas reached a plea agreement halfway through trial.
That changed everything.
He testified.
Mark stared at him with pure hatred.
Douglas admitted suggesting the method.
Admitted financial crimes.
Admitted helping cover the death.
"Who administered the substance?"
The prosecutor asked.
"Mark."
"Did he understand what it could do?"
"Yes."
"Did he intend Robert Collins to die?"
Douglas paused.
Mark's attorney leaned forward.
"I don't know what was inside his head."
Good answer.
"But he told me afterward..."
Douglas swallowed.
"What?"
"He said, 'Dad can't testify now.'"
I closed my eyes.
No ambiguity remained inside me.
Whatever the jury decided legally, I knew.
Closing arguments lasted two days.
The jury deliberated eleven hours.
Guilty of second-degree murder.
Guilty of conspiracy.
Additional financial convictions would follow separately.
Mark showed almost no reaction.
I did.
I cried.
Not because I was happy.
Because Robert had finally been believed.
Outside, reporters surrounded Evelyn.
One asked:
"Do you regret testifying against your son?"
She looked directly into the camera.
"I regret waiting twelve years."
That became the headline.
Mark eventually received a lengthy prison sentence.
Douglas too.
Dr. Monroe lost his license and served prison time under his plea.
Memphis Heritage Bank paid substantial penalties and restitution related to internal failures.
Vanessa avoided prison on the most serious counts because of cooperation but faced civil judgments and lost her professional licenses.
She moved away.
I never saw her again.
The divorce became final three weeks after Mark's sentencing.
Twenty-one months after the hearing where it should have ended.
Judge Warren looked at me.
"Mrs. Collins, are you prepared?"
I smiled.
"Yes, Your Honor."
This time I knew exactly what I owned.
Exactly what I was signing.
Exactly what I was keeping.
The judge signed.
Our marriage ended.
No dramatic speech.
No applause.
Just paper.
Outside, Lily waited.
"Is it done?"
"Yes."
"Are you sad?"
I considered.
"A little."
"Why?"
"Because twenty years is still twenty years."
She nodded as if she understood.
Then:
"Can we get ice cream?"
That was how my marriage ended.
Not with screaming.
May you like
Not revenge.
Chocolate ice cream with my sister and the child who told the truth when every adult around her had learned to stay quiet.
