Then the Crown produced the lab analysis showing toxic levels of digoxin in the pills I’d been given, and the hotel recordings, and the staged retreat booking under Margaret’s maiden name, and the financial trail of payments to Prescott.
Truth piled up like weight.
Sophie testified, but gently. The judge allowed accommodations because she was a child. Sophie sat in a separate room with a screen, her voice transmitted into the courtroom. Catherine sat with her, hand on Sophie’s shoulder.
When Sophie described hearing Margaret’s laugh in the study and the words “once he’s gone,” my throat burned.
Margaret stared at the screen with a face that looked carved from anger. Not remorse. Not shame. Anger that Sophie had spoken.
When Sophie finished, she looked at her mother and whispered something. Catherine nodded, eyes shining, and they both stood and left the room, as if Sophie’s bravery had finally exhausted her.
The jury deliberated four hours.
Guilty on all counts.
Margaret received life in prison with no parole eligibility for forty years. At sixty, it was effectively a sentence to die behind bars.