Chapter 9 - Justice for Emily
The final trial of the Whitmore corporate conspirators took place in the spring. Nathan stood in the federal courtroom, holding Jonah’s hand as the judge read out the sentences. Carl Dempsey and four senior board members were sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole.
When the trial ended, Nathan didn't give a speech to the reporters waiting on the courthouse steps. He walked past the microphones, his arm around Jonah’s shoulders, and led the boy to a waiting vehicle.
They drove out to the cemetery in Evanston, where Emily was buried beneath a simple granite stone surrounded by old oak trees.
Nathan hadn't visited the grave since the funeral. The grief had been too heavy, a mountain of iron that pinned him to his desk in the tower. But today, with Jonah standing beside him, the mountain felt like it had turned to dust.
Jonah walked up to the stone and placed a small, square canvas at its base.
It was a painting—not a chalk drawing—of Emily. She wasn't standing on the beach from Nathan’s old photo, and she wasn't handing out soup under the bridge. She was sitting in a garden filled with white pines and sunflowers, her left eyebrow showing the tiny, beautiful scar, her face turned toward the light with a smile that looked like it would last forever.
"I used the good paint you bought me," Jonah whispered to the stone. "The kind that doesn't wash away when it rains."
May you like
Nathan knelt beside the boy, his hand resting on the grass. He looked at the painting, then at Jonah, seeing the living legacy of his daughter’s kindness standing right next to him.
"Thank you, Jonah," Nathan said, his voice steady and full. "Thank you for remembering her."
