Injured Honor

By Samuel Adedotun Ishmael

After his only daughter was fatally shot by the police, Damien thought it was another killing borne out of

racial discrimination but soon realized it was a retaliation from his ugly past. Finally, his most dreaded

enemy had caught up with him, and his worst fear had come home to roost. Before long, he became a

• Language: English
• Publisher: Adedotun Ishmael Books
• Release date: Jul 21, 2021
• ISBN: 9781737344551

Book preview

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 1

It was a very brief meeting.

So brief that Mahmoud Dan of the St. Paul Police Department, Minnesota, felt like taking a backward glance to see the kind of vehicle those men were heading toward. It was a known theory that in this part of town, the briefest moment could be the deadliest. He wasn’t ready to take chances because the men on this side of town have no respect nor fear the cops. If they could find him for the job, then it would be very easy for them to locate and kill him if they have any reason to. While he was constrained by law not to use his firearms as he desired, his engagers obviously didn’t look like they give a hoot about what the law says.

He was baffled by the set-up, especially the fact that he wasn’t allowed to have any formal meeting with them. Only a hush-hush kind of car park talk in a partly dark side of the large area and they only handed him a fairly bulky envelop and then, they were gone. There were three men in suites that he could hardly recognize if he comes across them the following day. They were so evasive he knew they’ve been doing this for years. He suspected they wouldn’t want to be recognized either. He was beginning to have strange feelings about the whole set up.

Being a dual citizen, the Arabian Embassy had purportedly contacted him and asked for a favor. He felt honored and was ready to do anything for the throne. And he was even more interested when he was informed that he might be earning up to fifty thousand dollars if he came ‘through’. Even when his conscience troubled him about the authenticity of the said favor, Mahmoud was lost in the excitement of the financial gain and hid under the disguise of service to his home country.

He could tell from the beginning that the service was more than meets the eye and yet, he didn’t care. He silently hoped it doesn’t steer any trouble on the long run but of course, even this, they did not guarantee by their actions.

Mahmoud might have had a rethink, but the persistent daily phone calls from private numbers that bombarded him with urgency didn’t afford him the luxury. Naturally, his human mind sprang into action. He saw a million possible ways of spending the money which would surpass his current lifestyle. He was sold-out already and admitted that he was a greedy bastard. He considered asking for more money if the opportunity presented itself.

That was if he lived to spend the money in the first place, but he intended to.

Now looking back, he was almost certain those guys didn’t come from any embassy, and the money involved connoted that what he was about to do was no service to any damn country. The job was a hit, just like the regular mob thing. It looked like a typical comeback in settling whatever transpired between some people who had no capacity to forgive. He cared less. Mahmoud felt immune by the uniform.

The instruction was simple; he was to find a way to kill a young lady. Opening the door of the police’s car, he sat down heavily in the vehicle, and opened the envelope in his hands. Fresh, crisp notes of one hundred dollar bills stared at him in the face.

The price for taking the life of a lady sat gently on his laps.

The wave of satisfaction he felt earlier with the knowledge of getting paid today was slowly replaced by trepidation. He was about to commit murder and the thought began to bother him. The kind of people that could part with a whopping sum of fifty thousand dollars weren’t the kind to be messed with. He was aware of the fact that he couldn’t back out from the agreement and forging ahead was the only option.

He stared at the picture of the young lady which seemed to have been taken while she was walking down an unknown street. An idea came to his mind which gave him a little respite. He instantly decided to use it as his alibi.

The lady was an African-American.

…..

The previous day, Al Jami stepped out of the plane and the feeling of surreality enveloped him. He couldn’t believe the wait was finally over. He smiled bitterly and was almost close to tears as he walked through the covered hallway that linked the aeroplane to the airport building, forming a seamless connection into the edifice.

The irony was that while most immigrants would be happy to step their feet on the grounds of the United States of America; he, on the other hand, was reminded of the bitterness the authorities of the country had made him endure years ago. This was the exact reason why he came to pay them back with the same coin, if not more.

The people around him were completely oblivious of the rage that threatened to engulf his soul as he approached the customs. He hurriedly sidestepped a kid that was left to stray carelessly by an equally annoying and negligent parent. His irritation was obviously getting the best of him, but he tried to conceal the way he felt. He didn’t want the custom officials to notice the invincible garment of blood he wanted to gift the country with. He had planned this move for so long to allow something trivial to derail him.

He was aware that the United States Immigration Service don’t take things lightly when they smell a rat nor did he wish to allow the meticulous planning of ten years go down the drain just because of how he felt for the time being.

He still remembered the bulky envelope that was delivered to his residence two years ago. Initially, he disregarded it but one day, he developed a keen interest in it. He cautiously frisked the envelope for anything harmful. After discovering that it was free of tiny bombs or any other harmful objects, he tossed it on his desk and planned to open it later. Few days passed before he returned to the envelope and decided to see its contents. He would have naturally tossed it into the trash without attempting to open it because it looked like the typical junk mail that had suddenly taken over Afghanistan Mail Service. The envelope bore no return address and yet, he went ahead to open it.

His blood ran cold at the first picture that stared at him. It was a face from his past and a painful one at that! A face that caused him a lot of sorrow. The face that made him cry almost every night for years unending after losing half of his family to an illegal raid. It was the face of Damien McConnell.

While he was overseas for business, the United States Marine Corps had let in their killers into his village eight years ago and they massacred almost everyone in sight. It was a genocide attack, but they didn’t stop there. They carted away his gold reserve and an entire vault filled with money. He lost close to one billion dollars in cash and gold face value. Also, he lost his two sons and one daughter alongside all his guards and most of the villagers. It was indeed complete wreckage to his home and a great loss to his community. It took him several years to recover from the losses.

He vowed to find the leader of that group at all cost after then, hunt down every other member of that participated in the genocide.

Although he had raised hell and promised to rain fire and brimstone upon every U.S. Army officer on peacekeeping mission in the Middle East, an enquiry was set up to investigate the incident. Surprisingly, the panel couldn’t find a single evidence that the men were actually there. The report said that the men had resigned from their duty posts a week prior to the incident and had no access to firearms capable of causing such an extensive damage.

Sham.

He wasn’t surprised because he knew the United States and its leaders were pathetic liars who would always support their own. After the ordeal, the men whose identities were made available to him by his loyal allies suddenly disappeared. He spent a lot of money trying to locate them, but his efforts always ended up with series of disappointment. Even the best private investigator on his contact list couldn’t seem to locate their whereabouts.

They had simply vanished.

Then, the envelope arrived to his amazement almost a decade later. He stared at the picture as if he just saw a ghost in prints. He had lost every fiber of hope in getting to this man and his cohorts to pay for their sins. And just out of the blues, the envelope suddenly appeared and there he was. He couldn’t believe he had Damien’s picture on his laps. Raw, painful memories flowed back and for a moment, he was transfixed.

He examined the remaining pictures for a while. He found several clips of Damien walking down the street in a sports outfit, getting out of his car, driving out, and other activities. The surveillance was superb and it was absolutely what he had been looking for. His hands trembled briefly. There was no note accompanying the pictures when he checked the envelope again, just the damned pictures. He felt a joyful sensation because it seemed to mark the beginning of a new journey.

One week later, another envelope arrived with more pictures but this time, it came with an accompanying note which read ‘‘Want to find him? Call this number." He called the number almost immediately and was given an express instruction. When he asked how much he owed, the caller said he owed nothing. However, a deal would be waiting for him when he was done avenging the deaths of his loved ones. He would be briefed about the proposed plan if he could manage to get himself to the United States.

Al Jami was excited and a plan was set into motion. To refute any form of doubt, he sent two spies to the said address to carry out surveillance on his target. The two men delivered on their tasks and within forty-eight hours of arrival at the address, pictures started pouring in. They took Damien’s pictures in the mall, driving out, going back home, during his usual morning exercise routines, and several other occasions. Al Jami was assured that the information was genuine. He decided to have his revenge after the confirmation.

He hid under an anonymous identity because there were things to be done, so there was no room for lapses. It is a known fact that his entrance into the United States could raise a security concern.

He still cringed from the pain of the plastic surgery, the excruciating agony of changing his fingerprints, the rigorous lung surgery, and the voice training that would make him sound like a completely different person. Within those years, he transformed into a stranger. A new identity was obtained for Al Jami.

But all the discomfort put together couldn’t be compared to seeing his entire investments burned down ten years ago, or the American soldiers’ massacre of his people while they carted away every single treasure he had suffer for years to acquire.

He had envisaged a day like this when his dream would eventually come true. A day a new journey would begin in a different direction. The day he would finally take the battle to the oppressor, ramming the proverbial knife into the heart of the enemy.

Four of his mercenaries would be arriving separately in the next few days. They would be landing at different airports in different states for obvious reasons. He wanted to avoid the ever prying eyes of the American Intelligence. In the event of further help, he would sort things out in Minnesota where Damien was situated. The four men were key operatives in his operations.

Positive that they had left no stone unturned while planning, all was set to announce a new form of retribution that would stun the world. He received numerous contributions from other leaders of the neighboring clans who believed in his ability to see missions through, especially when the missions might turn bloody. They believed in him and simply told him that they would be watching the news. It was a statement of confidence he relied upon and intended to make come to pass.

Soon, he was cleared by the customs and walked out into the cold atmosphere of Minnesota. He didn’t have to wait because his ride was already waiting for him. The Mercedes Benz stopped close to where he stood. He watched as the driver hurriedly stepped out, respectfully collected his briefcase, and placed it in the already opened trunk alongside other luggage.

He opened the door of the car and casually sat at the back while the driver made sure the trunk was securely closed and no luggage was left behind. The driver entered the car and they began the journey that would mark the beginning of historical events in Minnesota and the entire United States.

…..

Mahmoud Dan had the address within his reach. He took a glance at his wristwatch and noticed he still had time to scout the place out. He was alone in the police vehicle. A few minutes earlier, he dropped his partner off at his girlfriend’s place with a promise to pick him up in an hour’s time. Due to his errands and thinking that the meeting was going to be an elaborate one, he didn’t want his gullible and nosey partner to know about what was going on. He glanced at his wristwatch; he still had like forty minutes before he picked up Calvin. He felt Calvin might want to spend some quality time with the pretty lady and returning early might ruin things. Mahmoud smiled quizzically. His mind was far from any kind of pleasure at that time.

Without much ado, he drove to his target address.

He frowned as he approached the street. It was his jurisdiction which meant whoever chose him knew exactly what he was doing. It was no coincidence as he realized he was assigned to this area just a month ago. He wondered if the assignment was a mere coincidence, but he had his doubts about it all the same.

He sat in the vehicle and observed the house from a distance. From all indications, he could tell the task might be a hard one to pull off on his own. However, he chose to cling to the illusion of a relatively hopeful individual who feels anything can happen in his favor with the artificial extension of pulling forces together if need be. He waited hopefully and mapped out strategies that were even alien to him. For a moment, he couldn’t fathom a way to go about his illegal intention which he realized must be carried out if he wanted to live.

Having ruled out a break-in style, he waited for a while. His eyes intently calculated the diameter of the house for a plan that refused to form in his head. He forced himself to see the possibilities at his disposal, but Mahmoud Dan wasn’t one to give in to self-deception. He understood that if anything would happen here, he would have to make it happen. He wasn’t going to do anything alone. He must look for a way to gain the collaborative effort of his partner who he must make sure remained in the dark while he coerced him into committing the crime with him.

It looked like a double task embedded into one. He sighed.

After a while, he drove away. His mind was still unable to see any form of possibility in completing the task. He decided to go pick Calvin and do another tour around the neighborhood. Who knows, an opportunity may just pop up by the time they come back.

Calvin was smiling with the self-satisfaction of a drunken sailor by the time he emerged from the building. Mahmoud was beginning to think Calvin had developed an unholy taste for quickies while on duty. It was just a matter of time before he landed himself in trouble. That was if both of them weren’t heading for trouble already because he intended to involve Calvin wholly in pursuit of his agenda, even if he had to resort to blackmail.

Boy! Calvin closed the door of the police’s vehicle with so much excitement that almost made Mahmoud jump.

I don’t want to hear about it! Mahmoud forced a smile.

"I’m saving it for you till anytime you’re ready. I’m gonna give you the full details."

Save it for your diary. Mahmoud hissed playfully as he engaged the gear.

So, where are we headed to? Calvin’s voice still carried the full note of a satisfied customer.

I’m thinking of a tour around Newcastle Road, Lillington Avenue, and Jordan Street. Mahmoud carefully inserted his targeted street.

Nice idea! The locations are cool, too. Let’s just take it slow before going to grab a beer. It’s almost 7.00p.m.

Mahmoud didn’t respond; he seemed to be unable to find the right words. Strain was engraved on his face as he drove towards Newcastle Road where the young lady lived.

…..

Al Jami paced around the large hotel suite. His hands were interlocked behind his back and he had a frown on his face. The machination he employed was already on ground and things were moving as planned but still, he didn’t believe the substance could be hidden in such a place. He was suspicious because the potency of the substance contradicts the location it was reportedly hidden. While it secretly excited him that the extraction of what he sought wouldn’t pose too much security threat, he was also equally bothered about the authenticity of its presence where it was claimed to be located.

His informer, whom he was yet to meet and had strong doubts if they would ever meet, had reliably informed him on the phone that he needed to secure a man-made virus which was stored in a very discreet cooling vault at the Sun Ray Library in East St. Paul. For a while, he thought about what the substance had in connection with his vengeance, but he was told it was his payment. He asked why the informer was helping him, but he was bluntly told he wasn’t being helped in any way. Rather, he was helping himself because he had a very bitter score to settle with Damien and the country itself. Al let go of the matter.

The mission seemed easy peasy, especially when he discovered within twenty-four hours of his arrival that Damien, his primary target, lived a life of simplicity. He had become a regular citizen who seemed to have managed to hide the wealth he stole from him and pretended to be living like some damn average citizen. He hoped for Damien’s sake that he hadn’t squandered it all.

And both getting at Damien and stealing the virus from the library looked easy at the onset.

But Al was genetically wired not to believe in anything that comes easy. He learned this fact a long time ago that the hidden displeasure of easy missions always outweighs the pleasure of the hard ones. He was even more suspicious now because he couldn’t imagine the authority hiding any potent virus amongst scholars and unsuspecting people. But if they did, then it was a great idea.

Suddenly, he stopped in in the middle of his strides and gaped out of the window. A tiny smile cropped up at the corner of his mouth as reality crept in with a sweet sensation. Of course, they knew no one could ever think of the location so easily. That was their mistake - hiding a virus amongst innocent citizens with minimal security. A very costly mistake!

As far as he was concerned, they just placed the substance in his waiting hands. Unlike other assignments, there was a lot of time for this. If he must succeed with the two very important jobs at hand, then he must carry out a series of heartbreaking events. His exit plan also remained intact. .

Al casually summoned two of his men who were seated in the living room amongst others, patiently awaiting orders on what to do. They jumped up, eager to please the master and also happy to escape the boredom of the luxurious hotel. It was always exciting to be in the field. Being active was the only way they knew to satisfy the yearnings of their bodies for some action.

The two men were his best at disguising, and they were chosen because this assignment would be the foundation for his plan. This task would bear his best effort - ordered and systematic. He still marveled at his startling and intellectual prowess at succeeding in all his given tasks and so, he wasn’t ready to gamble with this current task.

He had little or no doubt that he would succeed. By the time this mission would be over, only woes and catastrophe would be enough to describe his visitation.

Chapter 2

The courtroom seemed to freeze for a brief moment. Damien blinked twice while his eyes rested on the judge who sat with so much confidence and at the same time, he portrayed himself as a demigod. The way the judge looked around the courtroom with so much detachment made his stomach churn with great unease. He had a very bad feeling about the final judgment and feared greatly if things didn’t go as preempted. He wasn’t scared for himself because he had lost the hope to live. At first, he lost his wife to cancer and now, his daughter to some trigger-happy police officer. His fear was worse and far-reaching.

He wasn’t expecting to win against the state police, but he felt he should. If the state chose to turn a blind eye regarding the killing of a harmless young lady, then he would go the extra length to cause some sort of mayhem to those involved in the murder of the young lady. He had no intention of being sober for his action. He hoped that the judge and his fellow jurors would do the right thing, even though his gut feeling didn’t align with his thoughts. His mindset might be playing a fast one on him judging from the look on the police officer’s face which portrayed confidence.

This made him tense up. He feared greatly for what might be the outcome should his instinct be right. He wasn’t scared for himself, rather, he was scared about his actions because he was very certain that he might be unstoppable. Something similar had happened before, and judging from the way he felt right now, it is almost impossible he wouldn’t go through the same route. The only saving grace would be if he was stopped by a meaningful judgment, but he sensed that might be a pipe dream in the long run. His body quivered.

He listened to the argument between his team and those of the state’s lawyers with total detachment. Disconnected from reality, Damien patiently awaited the final verdict from the jurors who were seated to the right side of the judge. He stole a glance at the thirteen-people jury who equally looked as disconnected as the judge himself. Damien could see that they had decided the end of the session even before they got to the courtroom that day. The verdict wasn’t going to be in his favor. He shook his head unconsciously and hoped for their own sake that he was wrong.

Alas! He wasn’t wrong.

It was an unusual case that was concluded at an unusual speed. He still wondered how the two police officers would deem a young lady, who was precisely twenty-two years old as at the time of her untimely death, to be dangerous just because she suddenly put her hand in her handbag. All they could think of was that she was about to pull a gun. The single shot to her forehead spoke volumes. It was obvious someone wanted her dead. Damien couldn’t fathom that his only daughter was gone.

Although he tried to dismiss it, he smelt a rat in the whole situation. The killings by the police were becoming more constant these days, and it was significant because it pertained to people of color. They seemed bent on eradicating them with little or no pretense. He sensed something huge was behind it all when the police were able to wrap up the whole case, and the court hearing was summarily arranged. It was presumably one of the fastest cases in the history of the state. It was like someone was in a hurry to sweep the case under the carpet.

The police union was solidly behind the two killers, and the union president arrogantly gave speeches about the insecurity surrounding the job of policing. The dude was practically justifying the killings on live TV! With the cam on the officers edited, the whole evidence seemed screwed. Damien came to a conclusion that the justice system had failed. These guys won’t be touched; they were within their job description and on the line of duty. Damien wished his daughter was smart enough not to make that move.

He wept inwardly.

Eventually, the papers were collated and delivered to the judge whose attitude didn’t change one bit. Damien knew the sign because he had been in the military panel before. Whenever a wrong verdict was about to go down, the first sign always comes from the body language, and detachment was the code. This body language from the head of the jurors and the judge complemented each other.

Damien was right after all.

The two police officers who shot his only daughter, in an attempt to retrieve her wallet while talking to the officers just got acquitted of the crime.

Damien closed his eyes tightly as all emotions seemed to drain from his body. Suddenly, in the like manner of a contract killer, he felt nothing again. He had gone numb and it wasn’t a good sign.

At first, he couldn’t believe what just happened. He felt as if his world finally collapsed. There was a feeling of tightness around his chest and the contractions made it hard for him to breathe. He casually loosened the buttons on the upper part of his shirt. It felt as if the air in the room had stopped flowing through his lungs. Holding onto the edge of his seat for support while his eyes were fixated on the face of the judge, his agony made the focus painful but he held on, disregarding what seemed to be tearing him apart within his body at that moment.

He tried to memorize the face of the cruel judge.

Pain surged across his chest and sweatdrops broke on his forehead. The tightening effect around his chest refused to cease even when he tried to stay steady. He tried to pull himself together or else, he might suffer a heart attack. The pain tore through his body and left him still for a brief moment. He had experienced the feeling before, all he had to do was to exercise a little patience, a little stillness, and a little more air.

Gradually, the pain ceased but a new kind of aura swept over him. He feared what might be replacing the soreness. He couldn’t deny the fact that the pain had ushered in something perilous, something forceful that was too strong for him to stop. He trembled momentarily and just like a train on full-throttle, an attempt to stop the feeling might be impossible.

He broke a sweat.

Initially, he thought he could find solace in the judgment. His line of thought was that the state cared about doing the right thing but from the verdict just passed, it was clearer that he had been living in a fool’s paradise.

His eyes remained fixated on the judge while trying to make sense of his final decision. Rather than seeing compassion, he saw a smile playing around his lips as the old man watched the police officers’ team jubilate about their triumph. Something seemed to amuse the judge; something cruelly funny. It was something that seemed to say that he was superior and that whatever he said was final.

Damien noticed that the judge never took a glance at him all through the session. It was like he was absent from the courtroom. There was no pretense from both the jurors and the judge because it was obvious he had preempted their final statements. It was more like a case between an animal and a human in the court of law. They didn’t try to hide their impression that he was irrelevant, likewise his dead daughter. He frowned at their blatant display of spitefulness. Rather than getting angry or feeling dejected, he felt nothing. Nothing!

What made his heart cold was what they termed ‘triumph’… Like seriously?

Triumph! After killing an innocent and unarmed young lady, this judge had the effrontery to be pleased after passing such a verdict. His gesture suggested victory as he stood up, banged his hammer on the gavel for all to rise as the case had been summarily dismissed. His shoulders were high with arrogance, or would he call it authority?

Either way, his poise suggested that he was confident he could pass any judgment and get away with it, even if some of his verdicts make some people sad. From all indications, it was habitual of him and he had been doing so for a very long time. Damien’s hand unconsciously curled into a fist and blood was almost bursting out through his veins.

He had to look away.

His head turned towards the direction of the juries at the extreme left-hand corner of the courtroom. His eyes zoomed in on each juror’s face, and he wasn’t surprised to see each person gathering his or her belongings. Indifference was boldly written all over their faces. They all looked like they just finished a pleasant board meeting. One of the jurors cast a glance in Damien’s direction and she had a mischievous look on her face. They had their eyes fixated on each other for almost ten seconds. Damien tried to read the expression on her face, but it was a bit hard for him to comprehend. However, her expression was torn between payback and satisfaction at the same time for some strange reason. Her mouth was tightened in an unpleasant way. Eventually, she turned her gaze away. Damien couldn’t understand why she seemed angry despite what she and her team had done.

It was business as usual, more like any other unfortunate situation. They were done and ready to go back to their respective homes, spouses, and children. Damien wondered how some of them would sleep that night. Some people have replaced their hearts with stones. He kept staring at them and noticed a few of them even shaking each other’s hands warmly, probably congratulating each other for a job well done.

He thought he would get some feelings welling up in his stomach like some sort of anger, extreme bitterness, or even self-pity. Rather, he felt nothing; rather, he felt coldness closing on in his heart which scared him.

He wondered why the court was set up in the first place. It seemed to be a charade. The verdict was nothing but a crooked judgment, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. The press could scream, another riot may likely break out, and arson recorded but none of these would bring back his daughter. Furthermore, these actions won’t stop the police from killing yet another victim. Sadly, it won’t stop the verdict from being the same.

It was like a circle that had finally turned vicious in a full swing.

It seemed he might have the answer to the lingering issue at hand, and nothing may be strong enough to stop him.

A shiver went up his spine.

He was bothered as he stood up in honor of the judge. Despite the unjust verdict, his stomach felt normal and his heart was cold. He stood up and watched the judge walked majestically away into the inner chamber and the jurors dispersed, too. He felt no emotions whatsoever and that bothered him even more. For a brief moment, he felt he may have gone motionless with shock. If he had gone numb, it wasn’t physically but emotionally. The way he felt was entirely strange to him that he wondered if he could recover from his great loss.

One after the other, he scanned the faces of all the members of the panel and examined them from head to toe. None of them seemed to know that he existed. He wished they knew that being a part of this biased judgment spelled trouble for them. He took mental notes of their faces with great attention to detail and relied on his memory to store away what he remembered.

His eyes finally came in contact with the police officer who pulled the trigger.

Their eyes were fixated on each other for what seemed like an eternity. Damien anticipated remorse from him, or at least to behave civil, but what he saw or sensed from him was different. He noticed the same kind of insouciance displayed by the judge plainly on the officer’s face. His expression was as blank and distant as possible. Damien saw that the officer wasn’t even remorseful at all.

The officer went further to smile briefly with self-assurance. He knew the judgment would be in his favor and that the victim’s family would lose out. Damien’s anger refused to be kindled. The coldness that clutched his heart almost made him feel like he was dead already.

The officer condescendingly walked out of the courtroom with the confidence of someone who just won a trophy after a very hard competition. He walked majestically with journalists holding their cameras, rushing after him as the large doors of the courtroom were flung open. Damien watched a villain become a hero.

He stood there for a long time but was detached from his environment. It felt like he was watching a movie, but he consciously kept telling himself that it was real. The realness of the situation hadn’t touched him one bit. It felt as if he was detached from reality even though he stood in the courtroom and all these happenings were about him. He tried his best to disregard what was boiling inside of him as much as he could, but the stage was set. A momentum had begun which he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

Damien’s team of lawyers led by Chris Woods; his longtime buddy from their days in the military, were seen packing their files, too. They stole a few glances in his direction but none dared to utter a word of condolence. They knew that he was a man of few words. He already briefed them before the court session not to feel