PART 5 — The Verdict
Nine months later, the courtroom was packed.
The prosecution displayed photographs of my injuries.
The shattered dinner plate.
The blood-soaked blouse.
The 911 recording.
Natalie's testimony never changed.
Neither did the testimony of the other relatives who eventually admitted the truth.
Diego insisted everything had been exaggerated.
The jury disagreed.
Guilty.
Felony assault.
Identity theft.
Attempted fraud.
The judge sentenced him to prison and ordered substantial financial restitution.
Outside the courthouse, reporters surrounded me.
One asked the question everyone wanted answered.
"Do you hate him?"
I considered it carefully.
"No."
"Hate would mean he's still controlling part of my life."
"I'm simply finished with him."
As I walked away, I noticed Natalie standing across the street.
She smiled.
"I almost stayed quiet that night."
May you like
"I'm glad you didn't," I said.
"So am I."
