today.
'That said, here is my ruling.'
There wasn't a sound anywhere in the court. Pauline's nails were cutting into my palm. Macklin had my other hand wrapped in his.
'The court,' said Judge Blake, 'on its own motion, chooses to invoke Federal Sentencing Guideline Five-K-One point one. This section, for the ladies and gentlemen of the press, allows the court to downwardly depart in sentencing those defendants whose cooperation with the government has led to the investigation or prosecution of another person or persons. Given the valuable assistance the defendants have provided, I am sure that I will hear no objection from the government on this motion?' asked the judge. He looked over at the prosecution table.
'None, whatsoever,' croaked Marshall, looking in his fresh-scrubbed youth like a boy who had just been spared a dreaded chore by a forgiving adult.
'Good answer.'
'Macklin Reid Mullen, Pauline Grabowski, Jack Mullen, the court sentences you each to time served and to six hundred hours of community service, to be performed in the Legal Aid Society, Capital Defenders Unit. From now on, the only trials you will be involved in will be on behalf of indigent death row defendants.
'This court now stands adjourned.'
As the judge pounded his gavel on the bench and rose to walk down the stairs, the spectator section exploded in applause, cheers, and high fives.
Reporters crowded around us as Mack, Pauline, and I embraced in a bear hug. None of us said a word to the press.
'Your brother is proud of you,' Mack whispered in my ear.
As the three of us were leaving the courtroom, arm in arm, I thought of something, an old sacred memory.
When Peter was just a little kid, after our mother had died, he used to sneak into bed with me just about every night. 'I like hearing your heart beat, Jack,' he'd say.
I had liked hearing Peter's heart, too. I missed it.
