My mind is spinning. In fourteen years, Stella will be thirty-two. I think of all the things she would miss out on. One can experience so much of the world in fourteen years! When I was thirty-two, I was midstride in life. Stella might never have the opportunity to become a mother, create a family, or have a career.
Fourteen years is a long time. Fourteen years in prison is an immensely long time. A goddamn eternity.
I look at Stella and am struck by how small she looks. She is still twelve years old with blue eyes full of longing, the same snot-nosed seven-year-old whose bad dreams woke her up, sneaking in to sleep between Mom and Dad. Maybe I’ll always see her that way. In my eyes, she remains a child. My child.
My guilt is eating deeper and deeper into me. What have I done? Why didn’t I put Amina in the car and drive her to the police station?
On several occasions I have felt that this is my way of repaying my debts for neglecting my family, but what if, in fact, I have sacrificed my own daughter to save Amina? I don’t know if I can live with that.
Michael adjusts the knot of his tie before beginning his closing arguments. He is quick and to the point as he breaks down the prosecutor’s evidence point by point until nothing is left.
“The only thing the prosecutor has succeeded in proving is that my client was in the vicinity of Christopher Olsen’s residence on the night he was attacked. Meanwhile, during today’s proceedings, we heard that Amina Be?i? was there as well, at that point in time.”
He looks at the presiding judge and his tone is confidential, almost as if he is addressing the judge personally. As if there is no one else in the room.
“Both Amina Be?i? and Stella Sandell were there, then, when Christopher Olsen died. Furthermore, it seems both of them had a motive to want to hurt Olsen. But naturally, that proves nothing. It is in no way proven beyond reasonable doubt that my client was the one holding the knife that caused Christopher Olsen’s death.”
And then it’s over. Everything that happens after this is beyond my control.
G?ran Leijon casts the hastiest of glances at his lay judges and then turns to the gallery to declare the proceedings closed.
“The court will now deliberate, and then a decision will be delivered.”
I sink far down into my seat again. It feels like I’m hanging over a cliff, a gap in time and space, my feet kicking desperately.
Stella is guided out through the basement door along with Michael, to avoid confronting the crowd of journalists and photographers that have gathered in the hallways of the courthouse.
People in the gallery are crowding each other, shoving and muttering, eager to get out. Meanwhile, I gather my belongings. My purse, coat, shawl.
Adam tells me to hurry up. I don’t know why he’s in such a rush.
When I stand up, it’s as if all of my blood pools in my feet. I can’t feel my own body, my head, my arms. I lose my balance and fall back into my seat.
My hand on my heart, I sit there like I’ve cracked down the middle and concentrate on breathing.
Adam takes my hand and helps me to my feet again. He tenderly leads me out of the room. My legs are heavy; the air is thick. We walk through the corridor, past all the curious faces and voices.
“I need something cold to drink,” I say, pointing at the vending machine in the corner.
I paw through my purse for some change. My hand is trembling; I dig and dig. I bring up a pack of gum and some hair ties and toss them on the floor. My hand keeps moving until everything in my purse is rotating like it’s in a cement mixer.
“Take it easy!” Adam says, grasping my arm.
My purse falls to the floor and I stand in front of the flashing vending machine, a quivering mess. Adam hands me two gold ten-kronor coins and fishes my bag from the floor.
“What just happened in there, honey?”
I know I have to explain it all to Adam, and soon. I don’t know whether I can.
“The court will deliberate,” I say, sipping the water.
“How long will that take?”
I look at him. My heart is one big, throbbing wound. What have I done to my family?
“I don’t know,” I say. “It could take anywhere from five minutes to several hours.”
Adam looks around in bewilderment.
“I don’t understand. Was Amina the one…？”
I put a finger to his lips.
“I love you,” I say, taking his hand.
It comes straight from my heart.
Adam and Stella are everything to me. I know Stella and I are everything to him.
“I love you too,” he says.