The Hero Next Time: A Novel of the Terribly Acronymed Detective Club (Book 4)

Chapter Forty-Two: Sunny, Summer-Fall, 2005

Sunny looked into the eyes of his sister's killer as he recited the victim impact statement on behalf of the family. He used no index cards or other written prompts to do it either. He had it memorized. He didn't go to trial often as a family lawyer, but when he did, his preparation was complete and exact, practicing his opening and closing statements over and over again until he didn't even need to look at anything to keep him on track. He wanted that same preparation today. This day had been a long time coming, and he wanted to make sure Balwinder felt his laser stare, so he didn't want to dilute it by breaking eye contact for glances at notes.

"Not only did you steal a beloved sister and daughter from her family," he said, "but you tried to deceive everybody by pretending you were just as worried about her as we were. You led everyone on a merry chase with that pointless neighbourhood search. You took advantage of the good will of friends, neighbours, and even your extended family, who wanted to believe you were a loving husband worried about the well being of his wife.

"And all the while, you knew exactly where she was. Alone, laid out in a place she'd never been before, away from the loving arms of her family; you even tried to burn her body so no one would recognize her. You didn't do a very good job, though, because enough of her was left to identify her and damn you." 

Anyone else might have broken down in tears at this point and been forgiven for it, but he didn't. He'd been drained of those tears a long time ago, and they would have only evaporated on his cheeks now, hot as they were with rage. He owed it to Bishan to speak for her, now that she couldn't speak for herself. It was the least he could do for her, after he'd failed her so miserably. The weight of his promise to protect her until the day he died sat heavily on his shoulders, and he wouldn't have been surprised if, were a camera in the courtroom and he saw footage of himself later, he saw himself bent forward as he pointed his finger at Balwinder, a hunchbacked angel of vengeance.

"You thought you were so smart, fooling all of us. You didn't fool the police though, and I thank them from the bottom of my heart that they didn't take your words at face value, that they checked your story against the evidence they found in your home and in your truck, and even under her fingernails; it didn't even occur to you that, as she was clawing at you while you choked the life out of her, she was clever enough to get enough of you on her to identify her killer."

He stepped away from the podium for a moment to compose himself, not because he was crying, but to stop himself from flying at his former brother-in-law. His hand reached for the leather sheath that rested under his shirt, but stopped when he remembered his kirpan, and his father's, was securely stored away by the courthouse guards. Metal detectors had been installed in the courthouse since the Air India trial, and weapons were not allowed in the courtroom.

"You killed her!" he shouted. "You killed her because you suspected she was cheating on you. If you felt you were wronged, you could have filed for a divorce. I know in our culture it's uncommon, but this is the twenty-first century, and there's no shame in it anymore, not for the spouses, and definitely not for their families. It might have hurt for a while, but you would have gotten through it. But that never crossed your mind, did it. In your mind, she was your property, and when she cheated, you felt you had the right to dispose of her however you wished, and your parents must have felt the same way because they helped you cover it up."

He cleared his throat and cast a glance at his parents at the front of the prosecution side, who were weeping openly and clutching at each other. He'd been afraid the two of them would literally die of a broken heart ever since they'd heard the terrible news. They'd been denied even the dignity of receiving their daughter and performing the funeral rite, known in their religion as Antam Sanskaar, within three days of her death. Because the body had been burned, there was no way they could have a proper display of her body, no final dressing, no celebration of her life with their friends and family in the gurdwara. They'd even had to endure the farce of her husband's feigned grief while the police continued to investigate her murder. He knew his words only reminded them of all of that, not that they would ever forget, but in a way he wished they hadn't come, that they'd stayed home with Tej and the kids. They'd been through enough. He also wished Tej was here to cheer him on as he raked Balwinder over the coals, but he knew she couldn't be here for every court date; the kids needed to be kept safe from any unpleasantness around their Auntie Bishan's death, and Tej had been a rock in that regard.