“Would you stand by and watch? Would you call the police and hope they arrived in time? Or would you do what Simon did? Intervene immediately, use the force necessary and legally allowed to stop the attack and save your sister’s life?”
I moved back toward the center of the courtroom, my voice rising slightly.
“The prosecution has the burden of proof in this case. They must prove, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Simon Nelson was not acting in lawful defense of his sister. Not that he killed Alan Sanders—he’s already confessed that he did. But that his actions were not justified. That he was not protecting Sadie from an unlawful attack. That he used excessive force. That he acted from jealousy or rage rather than necessity.”
I turned to look at Rosalind, then back at the jury.
“They can’t do that. Because it didn’t happen that way. And over the course of this trial, you will see the evidence that proves it. You will hear testimony about Alan Sanders’ history of abuse. You will hear about the attack that night. Youwill hear about the imminent danger Sadie faced. You will hear about Simon’s actions—actions born out of necessity and the fundamental human duty to protect those we love from harm.”
I walked slowly back toward the jury box, my voice dropping again, becoming quieter, more personal.
“This case is about more than just the facts. It’s about justice. It’s about the right to defend the innocent. It’s about recognizing that sometimes, violence is necessary to stop violence. And it’s about understanding that when someone acts to protect another person from imminent harm, that action is not murder; its justifiable homicide.”
I met the eyes of Roxanne Davis in the second row, the one who’d looked away from Simon earlier. She was looking at me now.
“Simon Nelson is not a murderer. He’s a man who saved his sister’s life. A man who intervened when she was being attacked. A man who used the force necessary, and no more, to stop a dangerous predator from killing someone he loved.”
I paused.
“Don’t let the prosecution’s prejudicial narrative blind you to the truth. Don’t let assumptions about who Simon is, about his sexuality, his relationship with his sister, cloud your judgment. Look at the evidence. Listen to the testimony. And ask yourself, has the prosecution proven, beyond a reasonable doubt, that Simon Nelson was not acting in lawful defense of his sister?”
I shook my head slowly.
“They haven’t. And they won’t. Because Simon Nelson acted to save a life. And under the law, that makes him innocent.”
I let that final word hang in the air for a long moment.
Then I turned and walked back to my seat.
The courtroom was silent.
I could feel the weight of every eye in the room on me as I sat down beside Simon.
His hand found mine under the table, his fingers threadingthrough mine, squeezing tight.
I squeezed back.
When I glanced at him, his eyes were shining, his expression a mixture of awe and something deeper. Something that looked like hope.
Across the aisle, I caught sight of Sadie sitting between David and Susan. Her face was pale, her eyes wide, but there was something in her expression that hadn’t been there before.
Recognition.
Understanding.
The realization that I wasn’t just fighting for Simon.
I was fighting for her, too.
Judge Markham cleared his throat.
“Thank you, Mr. Gallagher,” he said. “We’ll take a fifteen-minute recess before the prosecution calls its first witness.”
The gavel came down.
The courtroom erupted into quiet murmurs as people stood, stretched, and began moving toward the doors.
But I didn’t move.
