I Defended My Best Friend, Who Killed My Wife

My wife was raped and murdered by my best friend in our new home.

And yet, I stood in court and defended him, securing his acquittal.

My father-in-law had a massive stroke right there in the courtroom and was rushed to the hospital.

Now, my brother-in-law was standing in front of me, pressing a knife to my throat.

"Jared, that was your wife! When she was killed, she was hanging up framed pictures of your wedding in your new house!"

"Why are you protecting that animal Wes? Are you even human?!"

His eyes were bloodshot, his voice a primal scream as the blade bit into my skin.

I didn't even blink. Feeling the sharp sting of the metal, I smiled, completely empty.

"Go ahead. Do it."

"Send me down there to be with her."

"Let her ask me herself why I did it."

Tyler's hand shook violently, the blade trembling against my neck. He was on the verge of a total breakdown.

"Jared! You think I won't?"

The hospital hallway was packed with onlookers, cell phone cameras flashing in our faces.

"Is that the lawyer? Jared?"

"Yeah, I heard he defended the guy who killed his own wife just for a massive payout."

"Disgusting. Eating off his wife's grave like that."

"What a parasite. He should rot."

I listened to the whispers, my expression flat. I even let a faint, mocking smirk slip onto my face.

The ward door banged open.

My mother-in-law rushed out, her hair disheveled and frantic. Her eyes locked onto the blood dripping down my neck.

She didn't call for a doctor. She didn't try to pull the knife away from Tyler.

Instead, her hand flew across my face.

Slap!

My cheek burned hot. My head jerked to the side, and I tasted the metallic tang of blood in my mouth.

"Get out! Get the hell out of here!"

She pointed a shaking finger at my nose, her voice shrill and breaking.

"You killed Hannah! Now you want to kill her father too? Why couldn't it have been you?"

Tyler's grip loosened, the knife clattering onto the linoleum floor. He collapsed against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably.

Holding my bleeding neck and feeling the fresh welt on my cheek, I wiped the blood away with the back of my hand.

No explanations. No apologies.

I didn't even look back at them.

I turned and walked toward the elevators.

Behind me, my mother-in-law's curses and Tyler's gut-wrenching sobs echoed down the hall. I kept my back perfectly straight.

The moment I stepped out of the hospital, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

The screen read: Wes's Mother.

I picked up, my voice instantly shifting into a calm, professional tone.

"Hello, Mrs. Finch."

"Jared! Oh, thank God," her voice crackled with tears of relief. "The police just called. They said there isn't enough evidence, and they're releasing Wes..."

I stopped and looked back up at the towering hospital building.

"Don't worry. I have everything under control. Just follow my instructions, and he'll be fine."

Heavy, frantic footsteps echoed behind me.

Tyler had run out after me. He was staring at the phone in my hand, his eyes wild.

He heard me.

And I wanted him to hear me.

"Jared!"

He lunged, grabbing my collar and slamming my head hard against the brick wall.

"You took their money, didn't you? You sold your wife's life to a murderer! How do you sleep at night?"

Passersby stopped, pointing and whispering.

"Is that the corrupt lawyer?"

"Looks decent on the outside, but he's rotten to the core."

Staring into Tyler's burning eyes, I didn't say a word.

My right hand was buried deep in my trench coat pocket, my fingers desperately clutching a ball of unfinished, thick gray yarn.

It was a scarf Hannah had been knitting for me before she died.

"Say something! Are you deaf?"

Tyler threw a heavy punch, catching me square in the cheekbone.

I stumbled back, leaning against the wall to keep from falling.

I kept my head down, letting my messy hair cover my eyes. My throat tightened, but I forced the emotion down.

"Are you done?"

I spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the pavement.

"If you're done, go back inside and take care of your father."

Pushing past him, I hailed a cab and got in.

When I got home, the house was dead silent.

I didn't turn on the lights.

I pulled a bottle of cheap whiskey from the cabinet, cracked the cap, and took a long, burning swig.

The alcohol scorched my throat, and the tears finally broke free.

I pulled out my phone. The faint blue light illuminated my twisted face.

On the screen was a photo from the police files. Hannah lay in a pool of blood, her eyes still half-open, staring blankly as if looking right at me.

I reached out, my trembling finger gently tracing her pale face on the glass.

"Hannah..."

A ragged, animalistic sob escaped my throat.

I stared at her picture and smiled through the tears streaming down my face.

"Soon, baby. Very soon."

The next morning, I was jolted awake by the sound of smashing wood and shattering glass.

The living room was a war zone.

Tyler and a few of his cousins were tearing the place apart with baseball bats, smashing the small memorial I had set up for Hannah.

The candles were crushed underfoot, the incense burner kicked over.

"Wreck it! Destroy everything this monster owns!"

Tyler stomped his heavy boot right onto Hannah's framed portrait. The sound of the glass shattering was incredibly sharp.

I stood at the bedroom door, watching the carnage.

My fists clenched so hard my knuckles turned white.

But I didn't move.

I just watched, cold and detached, like a ghost in my own home.

The sky was a heavy, suffocating gray, and the rain fell in relentless sheets.

At the entrance of the cemetery, a makeshift wooden sign blocked the path.

JARED AND DOGS NOT ALLOWED.

The words were sloppily painted in dripping red paint, looking like fresh blood.

Dressed in a black suit, I kept my arms wrapped tightly around a bouquet of wet white lilies.

They were Hannah's favorite.

Ignoring the sign, I walked straight past the gate.

"Stop him!"

Tyler's roar echoed through the rain, and five or six burly men rushed me.

Without a word, their fists came down like a hailstorm on my back and head.

I curled into a ball on the wet grass, doing everything I could to shield the flowers.

"Get him out of here! Don't let his filthy feet step near Hannah's grave!"

Tyler kicked me hard in the ribs.

An agonizing pain shot through my chest, forcing a gasp from my throat, but I refused to let go of the bouquet.

Finally, someone violently pried my fingers back and snatched the lilies away.

"You think you deserve to give her flowers?"

Tyler threw them into the mud, stomping them repeatedly until the pristine white petals were ground into black filth.

"You belong in hell!"

I lay in the mud, staring at the ruined flowers, my eyes burning.

I tried to crawl toward them, but a heavy boot slammed down onto the back of my hand, pinning it to the gravel.

Tyler looked down at me, pulling a photograph from his pocket and throwing it in my face.

"Take a look, everyone!"

He pointed at the photo, his voice piercing through the downpour.

"This is who he really is! Six months before Hannah died, he was already cozying up to the killer, Wes, at a bar!"

The photo was real.

But it was taken when Wes had come to my office to ask for legal advice.

The gathering crowd of relatives and friends erupted.

"Oh my God, so it was premeditated?"

"How is this sick bastard not in jail?"

Someone spat on my face.

Then came plastic bottles, clods of dirt, and small stones.

"Scumbag!"

"Rot in hell, you freak!"

I was treated like a rabid dog, surrounded by a mob of angry people.

I didn't fight back. I didn't utter a single word of defense.

I just let the filth wash over me.

The squeak of wheelchair wheels cut through the noise.

The crowd parted.

My father-in-law sat in the chair, his face a sickly yellow, his lips trembling violently.

With the last of his strength, he threw a heavy shoe at me.

It struck me right on the forehead, leaving a muddy smudge.

"You... monster... get out..."

His voice sounded like a broken bellows, his entire body shaking with rage.

"Dad..."

The moment I opened my mouth, two men grabbed my shoulders.

"On your knees!"

Tyler kicked me hard behind the knees.

"Bow to Dad! Apologize to Hannah!"

My knees slammed brutally against the rough concrete.

Before I could even process the pain, a heavy hand pressed down on the back of my head, slamming it forward.

Crack!

My forehead hit the stone steps with a sickening thud.

Warm blood immediately flowed down my brow, blurring my vision in a crimson haze.

All around me were screams of curse, rain beating down, and absolute humiliation. It gnawed at my heart like venom.

I forced my head up, my face completely smeared with blood.

Through the red mist, I looked toward Hannah's cold headstone.

And then, I smiled.

A twisted, eerie grin.

"Dad. Tyler."

I stared at them, my voice quiet but laced with a bone-chilling coldness.

"You will regret this."

"I am the only one who actually wants her to rest in peace."

Tyler flinched, taking a step back from my gaze.

But he quickly recovered, his embarrassment turning into fury.

"Still acting tough? Throw this trash out!"

They dragged me out of the cemetery like a dead dog, dumping me unceremoniously into the muddy ditch by the roadside.

The dirty water stung my fresh cuts.

The torrential rain washed over me, mixing with the blood and grime.

I lay there in the mud, staring up at the dark sky.

My body was in absolute agony, but my mind had never been clearer.

Hannah.

Just wait a little longer.

The show isn't over yet.

Two strips of yellow police tape hung across the front door of our new home, bright and mocking.

Dragging my limping left leg, I ignored the warning and tore them down.

I pushed the door open.

The air inside was thick with the smell of copper and decay.

On the hardwood floor, a large, dried patch of dark brown stain remained.

This was where Hannah took her last breath.

I grabbed a rag from the bathroom and dropped to my knees.

Over and over, I scrubbed at the dried blood.

"Hannah loves a clean house. I can't let it stay dirty..."

I muttered to myself, my eyes vacant as I worked.

A mocking voice drifted in from the hallway.

"Oh look, the creep is back."

Mrs. Gable, the neighbor from down the hall, shouted loudly enough for the whole building to hear.

"Sold his own wife's life and still has the nerve to live here. Who would ever buy this place now? It's cursed."

"Exactly. I heard he defended the killer. He's lucky her ghost doesn't drag him to hell in his sleep."

My hands paused for a second. I didn't look up.

I just kept scrubbing.

I rubbed until the floorboards began to fade, and my fingertips wore raw and bleeding.

Frantic footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Tyler burst through the door with a couple of guys, waving a stack of papers in his hand.

"Jared! You explain this to me right now!"

He threw the papers, and they scattered across the wet floor in front of me.

It was a copy of a life insurance policy.

Payout: Ten million dollars.

Beneficiary: Jared.

Tyler's eyes were wild, like a rabid beast ready to tear me apart.

"No wonder you got Wes off! No wonder you didn't care!"

He lunged, grabbing my collar and shoving the paper into my face.

"Because you were in on it! You planned the whole thing for the payout!"

I stared at the policy, completely frozen.

When did Hannah buy this?

I remembered right before my birthday, she had mysteriously promised me a huge surprise.

So this was it.

That foolish, loving girl... was she so worried about me that she wanted to make sure I'd be taken care of if anything happened to her?

My heart felt like it was being crushed by a giant fist. I couldn't breathe.

But my silence only confirmed Tyler's suspicions.

"Nothing to say? Guilty as charged, huh?"

Tyler grabbed a baseball bat from near the door and swung it with all his might.

Thwack!

The bat slammed into my ribs.

My stomach cramped instantly, and I doubled over like a wounded animal.

Cold sweat drenched my back.

But I clenched my teeth and didn't make a sound.

"Tell me! Did you set it up?!"

Tyler brought the bat down again.

"Stop it!"

A man's voice called out from the doorway.

Owen, our next-door neighbor, stepped inside, wearing a mask of self-righteous concern.

"Tyler, I'll testify for you."

Owen pointed a finger at me, his eyes shifting nervously.

"A few days before the murder, I heard him and Wes arguing in the stairwell. They were talking about 'how to split the cash' and 'making sure it looks clean.'"

The onlookers in the hallway gasped.

"My God, there's a witness?"

"He's done for!"

I lay on the floor, forcing my head up to look at Owen's smug, hypocritical face.

He had pursued Hannah before we got married, and he had harbored a bitter grudge ever since she rejected him.

Excellent.

The rats were finally coming out of the woodwork.

A wheezing laugh escaped my throat, tasting of copper.

I dragged myself up, grabbing a half-empty bottle of whiskey from the wreckage on the counter.

In front of everyone, I tilted my head back and took a massive gulp.

The liquor spilled down my chin, mixing with the blood at the corner of my mouth.

"Yeah," I spat, looking at Tyler with a mocking, arrogant sneer. "The money's cleared. Ten million. I'm practically throwing a party."

"With that kind of cash, do you really think I'll have trouble finding another woman?"

Silence.

Dead silence.

The next second, Tyler completely lost his mind.

He grabbed a heavy metal shovel leaning against the wall from our remodeling work and raised it high.

"Then you can take that money to your grave!"

The shovel sliced through the air, aiming straight for my skull.

I closed my eyes.

I didn't move.

Clang!

A dull thud.

But the expected pain never came.

I opened my eyes to see a small, frail figure sprawled over me.

Warm, thick liquid dripped onto my cheek.

It was Wes's mother, Helen.

The edge of the shovel had grazed her temple, and blood was pouring down her face.

"Don't hurt Jared... he's a good man..."

The elderly woman shielded me with her body, her voice trembling.

The crowd erupted into chaotic murmurs.

Tyler froze, but his anger only flared hotter. He pointed at Helen, the veins in his neck bulging like writhing worms.

"Look at this, everyone! The killer's mother is protecting this piece of garbage!"

"You really are in this together! You disgusting freeloaders!"

The mob of neighbors was completely whipped into a frenzy.

"Beat them both!"

"Shameless bastards!"

"Selling his own wife's life for cash!"

Someone threw a brick, others hurled garbage and rotten vegetables.

Tyler pulled out his phone, aiming the camera right at me to start a live stream.

"Look at this, guys! This is Jared! The monster who had his wife killed for insurance money!"

The comment section exploded instantly.

Put him in the electric chair!

Dox him! Find out where he lives!

Why is this waste of space still breathing?

I had become public enemy number one.

The wail of police sirens grew louder down the street.

Two police cruisers pulled up, and several officers pushed their way up the stairs.

"Stand back! Everyone stand back!"

They quickly set up a perimeter, barely holding back the rioting crowd.

But Tyler wouldn't stop. He shoved his phone camera right into my face.

"Jared, in front of the police, in front of the whole world, tell them! Admit you paid Wes to kill her!"

"Swear it! Swear that if you're lying, you'll rot in hell!"

The shoving crowd pushed forward, knocking me back to the floor.

Someone grabbed a bowl of cold rice left as an offering for the deceased.

Splush!

The cold, soggy rice mixed with incense ash was thrown directly over my head.

Some of it got in my mouth.

"Eat up! Consider it a gift from us!"

"Beg your wife for forgiveness!"

I lay there in the dirt, completely stripped of my dignity.

I stuck out my tongue and tasted the bitter, ash-covered rice on my lips.

Slowly, I pushed myself up.

I brushed off the officer trying to help me up.

Using my sleeve, I slowly, meticulously wiped the rice and blood from my face.

My movements were so deliberate it made the room grow quiet.

I looked up, my eyes passing over Tyler, passing over the cops.

My gaze locked onto a figure hiding in the back corner of the crowd.

I let out a raw, guttural roar that echoed through the entire hallway.

"Wes didn't do it!"

I pointed a finger directly at the trembling man in the back, pronouncing every syllable with icy precision.

"The real killer is standing right here in this room!"