The Helford Trials (Helford #3)

Chapter Three

It was daunting to consider the list of Shawn Masterson’s crimes.

I had seen them before, written down painstakingly and sequentially on files kept on my father’s desk, accessible only when he allowed them to be. My father had poured over the words, wanting to memorize every single last thing. I would have called it nothing less than an obsession if I didn’t understand, because maybe I was holding on a little too tightly as well. Maybe it was from my father that I inherited the ability to never let things lie.

He glanced over at me now, concern etched onto his brow in a way I will never believe he would look at me without. I was always a bit of a weak link for him, always the baby bird that went crashing to the ground when I was told to fly the nest. I looked away from him, keeping my eyes on the front of the courtroom in grim determination. From next to me, Valerie's hands tightened in her lap.

Marlisse Parsons, the lawyer on our side of the fence, was a stern brunette with sharp eyes and thin lips, an international lawyer that my father had known back when he was still in the political arena. I had only met her once before, before this entire mess at a dinner event, and she had intimidated me even then. Standing in her home court, sitting in the audience and watching the wicked smirk curl at the corners of her lips, a shark in the middle of a tank of prey, the intimidation increased tenfold. She was the first up to bat, sitting behind her desk with a microphone positioned in front of her, her papers in ordered stacks. She looked like the kind of woman that could have commanded an execution with just the casual blink of one of her black-rimmed eyes.

Marlisse got to her feet slowly before turning to face the judges in entirety. She didn’t try to smile, didn’t try to act like this was going to be a pleasant day of happiness and sunshine. She didn’t show emotion, an iron woman, as she glanced one last time at the desk with her notes, and began.

“I could list off every single thing Shawn Masterson is ultimately accused of, and we would be here for the longest of times as I tried to convince you of his guilt for each,” she confessed to them, reaching her hand up and counting on her fingers, “International espionage, national and international terrorism, one hundred and eight-six counts of first degree murder, twenty-seven counts of kidnapping, twenty-two counts of computer infiltration crimes, and so many more. Abuse. Fraud. Arson. Assault. Thousands upon thousands of charges mar the pages of Mr. Masterson’s reputation. In his final moments, on film, it shows him about to murder a young woman who he alone had attempted once to brainwash into being his model student. Shawn Masterson was a sick man, and no amount of psychology could ever begin to properly explain him. And I’m not here to even try. You’ve all read the list of crimes. I’m not here to prove every single thing, because we do not have years. We have hours. And, I believe, you will not even need that.

“Helford Academy is an ugly little secret, that is the truth. The CIA’s operation with the facilities and the events they allowed to grow out of control there will be one of the darkest marks on American history for the rest of its existence. What we are doing in damage control now will not be able to repay all of the victims of its misdeeds, though we shall try. There are many people that will be watching these trials, these Helford Trials, from all over the world, just to get an answer. Just in a search of justice of whatever or whomever they have lost because the CIA overstepped their bounds and lost control of their majorly classified program. There is no more damage control to be done. There is only justice to be served.

“Thousands of lives are blood on the hands of this man that you have chosen to have a trial for today, despite the fact that he has been dead several weeks. All of the papers can show the truth of the character of Shawn Masterson. He was manipulative and abusive. He was cruel and unkind. He followed orders until he found himself too good for them, so he took matters into his own hands and slaughtered as many people as he wanted to in order to get himself to the top. The fact that we are even standing here trying to offer even a little bit of remorse and forgiveness for this sociopath practically blows my mind, Your Honors. There is no need to save Shawn Masterson. He is already dead, and he is already guilty. If any of you do not believe this, then you are part of the problem that had plagued this globe, and you should not be sitting where you sit. Shawn Masterson was nothing less than a monster, and he does not deserve even the benefit of the doubt. If you choose to give him even that little victory, then I will have no more hope for this justice system, or this society.