Chapter 11 - THE COURTROOM OF GHOSTS
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Carmine's trial began the following spring.
The courtroom was crowded.
Reporters filled the benches.
Former associates avoided eye contact.
Gabriel sat beside his attorney, looking thinner than he had before the attack but stronger than he had in the hospital.
I sat two rows behind him.
The prosecution presented financial records, security footage, witness testimony, and evidence from the warehouse investigation.
Carmine had attempted to seize control of the Falcone businesses while Gabriel was incapacitated.
He had also interfered with efforts to verify Gabriel's condition.
When I was called to testify, my hands shook.
I walked to the witness stand.
The prosecutor asked me to describe the night Gabriel was declared dead.
I told the truth.
The medical wing.
The cold table.
The white sheet.
The faint heartbeat.
Carmine entering with a gun.
Then the defense attorney stood.
"Miss Higgins, you were employed as a maid?"
"Yes."
"And you had no medical training?"
"Correct."
"Yet you claim you recognized a heartbeat that trained physicians missed?"
I took a breath.
"I heard something. I felt a pulse. I called for help."
He smiled.
"Isn't it possible you imagined it?"
I looked toward Gabriel.
Then back at the attorney.
"No."
"How can you be so certain?"
My voice trembled.
"Because he opened his eyes and spoke to me."
The courtroom fell silent.
The attorney tried another question.
"Miss Higgins, are you romantically involved with Mr. Falcone?"
I froze.
Gabriel's expression changed.
The prosecutor objected.
The judge required the attorney to explain the relevance.
I answered when permitted.
"At the time, I was his employee."
The attorney leaned forward.
"And now?"
I looked at Gabriel.
Then said carefully, "My relationship with him doesn't change what happened that night."
The trial continued for weeks.
Carmine was convicted on multiple charges connected to the conspiracy, financial crimes, and threats.
Other proceedings concerning the warehouse attack and medical misconduct continued separately.
When the verdict was announced, Gabriel closed his eyes.
I expected relief.
Instead, he looked exhausted.
Outside the courthouse, I asked, "Are you okay?"
He nodded slowly.
"Not yet."
I understood.
Justice could answer questions.
May you like
It couldn't erase memories.
But it could make room for a future.
