On the judge’s bench, Vincent, my brother-in-law and the police captain, spoke coldly. “Bring in the eyewitness, Erickson!”
The door opened and I walked out in a prison uniform with heavy shackles, escorted by the guards, my head lowered.
I had only taken a few steps when people threw rotten eggs and vegetables at me, cursing loudly.
“Coward! Your wife was attacked in front of you and you still dare to live!”
“Your wife has been in a coma for five years and the killer is still free—all because you wouldn’t tell the truth!”
“Is the killer your father? Is he really worth protecting?”
“Did you make some dirty deal with the murderer—sell out your wife for money or fame? You’re worse than an animal!”
The insults grew worse and some people even tried to break through the barrier to attack me. The bailiffs had to fire warning shots to keep order.
As I reached the center of the courtroom, Vincent suddenly drove his knee hard into my stomach.
Pain exploded through me and blood dripped from my mouth as I collapsed to my knees. No one felt sorry for me; instead, the crowd cheered.