The tall building in front of me stood proudly, nearly thirty meters tall. I sighed and approached its entrance. The guard on duty gave me an odd look until I showed him my ID. He nodded once he verified it, and I smirked in response.
Passing by him, I entered the depths of the regional trial court building. Robert waited outside as instructed; I didn’t want him getting involved in court business without an ID. The grandeur of the high walls, glass doors, and the echo of my footsteps in the long hallway sent a shiver down my spine. It was my first time in such a prestigious court, even if it wasn’t the Cebu Hall of Justice but one of its regional branches.
I gulped as a glass door opened and a woman in her forties emerged, carrying a stack of folders. She strode ahead of me down the hallway, a blast of cold air sweeping out with her. I hadn’t anticipated the chilling temperatures these people endured.
Silently, I followed her. I wasn’t sure where she was headed, but I assumed we were going to the same room. It was my first time in a regional court, and I didn’t know which room was designated for Dad’s trial. I had assumed the guard let me in because we shared the same surname, but I forgot to ask him for specifics. Ugh, I should have clarified with him.
She turned right at the end of the hallway, and I followed, feeling another draft of cold air from the far end-a kind of terrace. There seemed to be another floor below, and I wasn’t entirely sure if there was a ground floor in this building.
“Are you following me?”
I startled at the voice and saw the same woman staring at me, a frown on her face. She narrowed her eyes and clutched the folders closer. “Who are you?”
Instead of answering, I got straight to the point. “I’m looking for Judge Alibata Briones.”
Her eyebrows raised at my casual mention of Dad’s name. Oops, was it rude to refer to a judge so informally?
“Why are you looking for the judge?”
I sighed. Why did people always ask for reasons? I couldn’t very well say I wanted him to confess to his crime. I cleared my throat. “I’m his daughter. I wanted to… uh… take him out for lunch.”
The woman smirked at me. “He’s busy. And it doesn’t seem like a good idea to ‘treat’ him.” With that, she walked away without another word.
I took a deep breath at her response. That woman! I squinted at her retreating figure but followed because I was sure she was heading somewhere important-either to Dad or to his court, given the high-profile nature of the ongoing trial. I was surprised not to see any local media outside; maybe they’d been kept away to protect the trial’s confidentiality.
She entered through a large glass door, and I looked up at the sign above it: Trial Court Room 56.
I squinted again. I wasn’t sure if it was Dad’s courtroom, but I didn’t want to barge in and risk interrupting a trial. Who knew if it was confidential? I might get into serious trouble.
So I decided to wait outside. Thankfully, there was a bench not far from the glass door. I made my way over and sat down, letting out a sigh.
Though my anger had lessened, I was resolute in my decision. I needed to confront Dad about his crime. Despite being my father, he needed to admit he killed Anthony.
I realized the longer I kept silent, the heavier the burden became. I had thought I could move on and forget about his crime, but after learning about Skylar’s connection to Anthony and how he had disclosed our relationship to the Clasisos, I knew I couldn’t stay silent. I wasn’t the murderer, but I carried the weight of the truth on my shoulders. The Clasisos wouldn’t let me go; they wanted to exploit my relationship with Anthony and make me speak about what I knew regarding the crime.
But they didn’t know that Anthony had kept personal details and private matters from me. I only knew about the crime, nothing more.
Before long, I heard the big glass door open again. I looked up and saw a familiar man stepping out. His face looked grim.
With the door open, I could hear the noise from inside the trial: words exchanged and then three decisive knocks. It seemed the judge had delivered the verdict.
The glass door closed behind him as he walked in the opposite direction, heading out of the building. But I recognized him. He was the same man I’d met at the university-the one who had talked to me in the admin building and shared a table with me in the cafeteria.