She sat down and stared at the dark wood of the table.

The judge asked the jury foreman to stand.

“On the count of attempted kidnapping, how do you find?”

“Guilty,” the foreman said.

“On the count of aggravated battery with a toxic substance, how do you find?”

“Guilty.”

“On the count of forgery, how do you find?”

“Guilty.”

My mother did not move.

She did not cry.

She just stared at the table, her jaw set.

The sentencing hearing was set for two weeks later.

The prosecutor told us she was pushing for the maximum penalty.

“She showed no remorse,” Sarah Vance said.

“She almost killed a young mother and a child.”

At the sentencing, the judge allowed me to make a statement.

I stood up and looked at the judge, then at my mother.

“She was my mother,” I said.

“But she chose to become a predator.”

“She tried to steal the life we built.”

“We want her kept away from us forever.”

The judge nodded.

He looked at my mother with a cold, stern expression.