My Husband Defended Our Daughter’s Killer

Our daughter was only four when a car crash stole her from us.

On the day of the hearing, I watched in horror as my husband, Nathaniel, a star attorney at one of the countrys top law firms, stood on the other side of the aisle. He was defending her killer.

I sank to my knees and begged him to fight for our daughter, to get justice for Kitty.

He looked down at me, his eyes cold. Shes gone, Brooke. Shes not coming back. Cant you just let the living move on?

I tried to believe he was just being principled, a slave to his profession.

That was until I saw him with my own eyes, holding the woman who killed our child, whispering tenderly, Isabelle lets have another baby.

Just yesterday, she was a whirlwind of giggles and bouncing curls. Now, my daughter lay still on a gurney in the emergency room, a forest of tubes and wires obscuring her tiny body.

My mother was weeping beside me, but my own hands, clutching my phone, were shaking too violently for tears. The call went straight to voicemail, over and over again.

Kittys lips moved, her voice a faint, muffled whisper. Mommy

I choked back a sob, forcing my voice to be steady. Its okay, sweetie. Just hold on. The doctors are going to fix you all up, and then youll see Mommy again.

But her eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, slowly drifted shut, and the only reply from the other end of the line was the same cold, automated voice. The person you are calling is unavailable. Please try again later.

Two hours later, a doctor emerged from the operating room. I launched myself at him, grabbing his shoulders, my world tilting on its axis. Doctor, how is she? How is my daughter?

He didnt resist, his face etched with a weary familiarity for scenes like this. He took a deep breath, his voice laced with a gentle sorrow as he uttered the words that shattered my universe.

Im so sorry, Mrs. Crane. We did everything we could.

The world spun. Images of Kitty flashed through my mindher first steps, her toothy grin, the sound of her laughter echoing in our home. I couldnt accept it. The vibrant, living girl from this morning was now just a body on a cold, steel table.

A dizzying roar filled my ears. Through the fog, I heard my mothers anguished cry. Oh, Brooke, its my fault! I wasnt watching her closely enough! You have to find the driver, Brooke! You have to make them pay for what they did to my grandbaby!

A crisp, white sheet was pulled over my daughters face. I followed the stoic-faced medical staff as they wheeled the gurney down the long, sterile hallway toward the morgue. I was numb, a hollowed-out shell moving on autopilot, my heart a raw, bleeding wound.

The silence was broken only by the squeaking wheels of the gurney, until the shrill ring of my phone cut through the quiet.

It was Nathaniel. Finally.

I told you not to call me when Im working, he said, his voice clipped and annoyed. I had Kittys birthday present sent over yesterday. Im busy, Brooke. Stop bothering me with trivial things. And I wont be home tonight; somethings come up.

He hung up before I could even speak. He didnt even ask why Id been calling him so frantically.

My heart turned to stone. I opened his social media profile. Eight minutes ago, he had posted a new picture. It was taken in a sleek, private lounge. A woman in a tight, white dress was nestled against his shoulder, her head resting on him possessively.

A dark mark, a hickey, was starkly visible on his neck.

The caption was a single word: Finally.

I knew that woman. It was Isabelle, his stepsister, his high school sweetheart, the untouchable, idealized one that got away.

For her, Nathaniel had missed the last moments of his own daughters life.

After making the final, horrible arrangements for Kitty, I stormed out of the hospital. The location tag on his post led me straight to them. I found them in a dimly lit corner of the bar, lost in each other. They were so engrossed that they didnt notice me until I was standing right behind them, my shadow falling over their table.

Brooke? What the hell are you doing here? Nathaniels face twisted in anger. His hand flew up, striking my cheeka familiar, stinging motion.

The pain was sharp, but for the first time, my voice was hard as steel. Do you know what your daughters dying wish was? It was to see you one last time. And where were you? In here, satisfying your own selfish urges.

I expected shock, grief, maybe even guilt.

But what I saw on his face was panic.

Dead? Isabelle blurted out, her eyes wide. No, thats impossible. I had someone check on her; she was only supposed to be injured.

She realized what shed said and tried to shrink away, but it was too late.

What do you know about this? I demanded, my intuition screaming. I lunged toward her, but Nathaniel stepped between us.

Brooke, were in the middle of something important. We can talk about this later.

You knew, I whispered, my voice cracking. You knew something, didnt you? Nathaniel, she was your daughter!

SLAP!

His hand connected with my other cheek. Brooke, for Gods sake, pull yourself together!

He grabbed Isabelles arm and dragged her away, leaving me standing there, stunned and broken.

Pull myself together? My daughter was dead, and he was with her killer, telling me to be calm? He couldnt even be bothered to say goodbye to his own child, and now he wouldnt even help me get justice.

The wait for the trial felt like an eternity. I had to have Kitty cremated first. Swallowing my grief, I clung to one last, desperate hope and called Nathaniel, praying he would at least come to see his daughter one final time.

Before I could even speak, his angry voice cut through the line. How many times do I have to tell you? Im busy during the day. My clients have life-or-death matters, and you keep distracting me!

And what about your daughters life? Isnt that a life-or-death matter? Kitty is being

My words were cut off by a familiar female voice in the background. Zoe, come back here. Dont bother your daddy while hes on the phone.

Zoe. Isabelles daughter. In a twisted way, I had her to thank. If Zoe hadnt been born, Isabelle wouldnt have been forced to go abroad and get married, and Nathaniel would never have settled for me, the girl who had worshiped him for years.

Thats enough! Nathaniel snapped, his attention completely diverted. The line was still open as I heard him rush away from the phone. Zoe, sweetie, dont run off. How about Daddy takes you to the amusement park this afternoon, huh?

Listen to your daddy, I heard Isabelle coo.

Daddy? What a joke.

Your real daughter is dead, Nathaniel. Shes about to be turned to ash in a cold, lonely crematorium, and youre here playing happy families with someone elses child. I could almost picture the scenethe doting father I had always dreamed he would be for our Kitty.

How had he treated our daughter? When Kitty was just learning to walk, hed make her fetch his drinks. If she spilled a drop, he would scream at her, sometimes even hit her. He never once showed her an ounce of tenderness, never took her to the park.

Maybe her death was a relief to him.

Ten minutes before the trial began, my lawyer informed me that the defendant wanted to settle. I refused instantly. This was my child, a human life. There would be no settlement.

As everyone took their seats, my heart pounded with anticipation. Today, the person who killed my daughter would finally face justice.

And then I saw him.

My husband, Nathaniel, walked calmly across the courtroom and took his place at the defense attorneys table.

A moment later, Isabelle strode in, dressed like a supermodel on a runway, a relaxed, almost bored expression on her face. When she saw me, a contemptuous smirk touched her lips.

I shot to my feet, my chair clattering loudly behind me. In that instant, every last shred of my composure vanished. I flew at her like a wild animal, ignoring the shouts and restraining hands, tearing at her expensive clothes, my fists flying. I was going to rip that smug, fake mask off her face.

Brooke, get a hold of yourself! Nathaniel threw himself in front of me, shielding Isabelle from my rage.

Are you insane? I shrieked, my voice raw. She killed your daughter! Shes the murderer, and youre defending her?

The realization hit me like a physical blow. He had known Kitty was dead from the very beginning. He knew everything. And he was still here, using all his skill and intellect to protect her killer. My heart felt like it was being carved out of my chest with a dull knife.

If I dont take this case, someone else will, he said, his voice maddeningly calm. I have to make a living, Brooke. I have to support myself.

He looked me straight in the eye. Im sad that Kitty is gone, but people die. They dont come back to life. Why cant you just let this go?

I stared at him, speechless. How could he stand there, in front of the woman who killed our child, and spout such twisted, self-serving logic? I tore myself from his grasp and slapped him across the face, just as he had done to me so many times.

His eyes widened in disbelief. Brooke you hit me?

The courtroom descended into chaos, and the judge was forced to call a recess.

Can we talk?

Isabelle approached me, a sly, mocking smile on her face.

Theres nothing to talk about, I snarled, my hands clenched into fists. You cant possibly think I would ever agree to a settlement.

She laughed, a light, carefree sound. A settlement? Oh, honey. I dont think Ill be needing your signature for that.