She saw my daughter sitting next to me, free and unharmed.

The powerful matriarch had nothing left to say.

She turned her face forward and walked through the door.

The gallery began to empty.

The reporters rushed out to file their stories.

Emily and I sat in our seats for a moment longer.

The courtroom was quiet again.

“We did it,” Emily said.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

“You did it, Emily,” I said.

“You had the strength to stand up to them.”

She reached out and took my hand.

“I had you,” she said.

We stood up together.

I smoothed the front of my jacket.

We walked out of the courtroom and down the marble hallway.

When we stepped out of the courthouse, the cold air hit my face.

The winter sun was bright, melting the last of the frost on the steps.

The reporters converged on us, their microphones raised.

“Colonel Hart, do you have a statement?” one reporter shouted.

“Emily, how do you feel about the guilty pleas?” another called out.

I stopped at the top of the stone steps.