Chapter One

Five years have passed since Jacob was acquitted of the murder of Izza Miller, who was fifteen years old at the time of her death. Her parents are still grieving. I am sure they will never completely recover. Jacob is now studying at Princeton University. He is married to Rebecca Morgan, formerly known as Rebecca Donaldson.

In a couple months, I'll be turning thirty-one. I am still working as a prosecutor for Cass County, North Dakota. I am married to my wife, Mandy, who is also a prosecutor, but works in another county. I am finally at home after a long day at work. My son, Joseph, now one years old, is sitting on my lap, playing with his hands while constantly babbling.

"Can you repeat the word "dada?" I spoke to Joseph.

Joseph chatters aimlessly. "No? Are you still not ready to call me dada?" I reiterated to my son once more. Joseph Babbles. He continues to clap his hands. Joseph and I synchronized our hand claps. I showed my son a smile. I planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. At last, Mandy comes home and walks into our house, shutting the door.

"Hey, sorry for being late." I informed Mandy that Joseph and I were engaged in a heartfelt discussion about when he will begin calling me "dada."

After Mandy puts down her purse on the coffee table, Mandy walks over to the couch and sits down next to me. I grabbed Joseph and handed him over to Mandy. Mandy grabbed Joseph and placed him gently on her lap. Joseph received a cheek kiss from Mandy, causing her to sigh. Mandy is pondering the logic behind saying "dada" first, rather than "mama."

"Oh, so he's supposed to call you mamma first," I answered Mandy.

"He'll call me mamma and then he will call you dada," says Mandy, chuckling.

"No, he should say 'dada' first," I told Mandy.

"Hey. You realize I'm the one who carried him for nine months and gave birth to him, so I think I deserve the credit first," says Mandy.

I chuckled. I chuckled and admitted, "Alright, you win."

"Good," Mandy reacts with positivity, responding, "That's exactly what I want to hear."

Afterwards, I went to the kitchen. I told Mandy that I would take charge of making dinner. Joseph babbles again.

"Yay!" Mandy claps her hands along with Joseph.

Mandy gave a kiss on Joseph's forehead. Eventually, it was time for Joseph to go to sleep. Mandy and I went to bed once we were done eating dinner. Mandy and I were asleep together in our bedroom. Joseph's crib is in our bedroom, where he sleeps.

"Ah!" I breathlessly uttered, as I woke up and propped myself up in bed."

I closed my eyes as I was trying to catch my breath. Mandy turned around since she was lying on her side, and she leaned herself up on the bed and comfortingly said, "Shhh, everything's fine," as she rubbed my back.

I covered my eyes with my hands and I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled my breath. I released my hands from my eyes and felt a sense of calm. "Another dream?" says Mandy. I showed agreement by nodding.

"Don't forget to mention your nightmares to your therapist again. Heather's death has been causing you nightmares," Mandy says to me.

"I will. I can't see him for another two weeks," I said to Mandy. Mandy kept rubbing my back.

I returned to lying on my bed and released a sigh. Mandy turned to her side and faced me.

"I can't even imagine how it must feel to be the one who witnesses a suicide. I'm so sorry," Mandy says.

"Yeah," I answered back, in a soft tone. Mandy gently stroked my hair and let out a sigh.

"You're okay, sweetheart. It's just another nightmare," says Mandy, once again.

I closed my eyes and nodded, then opened them and turned to face Mandy. With a smile, I told Mandy, "You always make me feel better. I love you."

Mandy smiles at me.

"Yeah. It's just a job for me to do as a wife," says Mandy, chuckling.

I softly chuckled and smiled at Mandy. We both kissed on the lips.  "Try to go back to sleep. We gotta get up early in like six hours," says Mandy, after we kissed.

"Yeah. I'll try," I answered back. Mandy stroked my hair and she went back to sleep shortly afterwards. I remained lying on my bed, contemplating the nightmare I had just gone through, while gazing at the fan that was attached to the ceiling above me. I decided to get out of bed, before heading to my kitchen and getting a drink of water.  After leaving my bedroom, I entered the kitchen and I went to the cabinet, where I opened it and took out a glass. I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and then shut it. I turned on the spigot and cold water flowed from the kitchen spigot as I filled my glass.

After I shut the spigot off, I took a sip of my water, the taste of tears mingling with the liquid, as I stood behind the sink, my sigh heavy with the weight of Heather's absence.

Slowly, I turned around, while holding the glass of water in my hand. I had a flashback of Heather. She was crying while pointing the gun at me. Then she shot herself after pointing the gun to herself. The flashback ended. I opened my eyes once again, and I continued standing where I was, and my memory of Heather was still fresh in my mind. I get panicky when I see Heather in my mind. I took another sip of my water.

The flashbacks, the nightmares, the anxiety, it makes me feel like her death was my own fault. I felt like I was responsible for her death and for me to feel like it is my fault. I started seeing a therapist named Dr. Hordon, who's been seeing me every week twice a week. He's a really nice guy. It was my first time seeing him last week. I haven't seen my recent therapist since they'd decided to work at a different behavioral health center.

When I went back into my office that morning, I was getting ready for another trial to attend. The day in the life of me as a prosecutor, I am reading, writing, and the occasional court appearance are all involved. Readings include: court orders pertaining to their cases; police reports and witness testimonies addressing offenses that have been or may be charged; defense attorney correspondence and pleadings; statutory changes and court decisions that may impact their cases.. Writing includes filing motions and replies to them, offering plea deals to defendants and defense attorneys, contacting law enforcement, corresponding with witnesses and victims, and submitting reports to the supervisor. Court: Pretrial conferences, which are meetings with the defendant and/or their counsel to try to resolve issues, and status hearings, which are sessions to inform the judge about the status of a case, are typically attended by a misdemeanor prosecutor.

I sighed as I was gathering my paperwork together, plus files and documents for the court case against the defendant who murders a fifteen-year-old girl by shooting her in a parking lot.

As I stood in the courtroom, facing the defendant, Simon Hedgexmoc, I thought that knowing that the outcome of this trial could haunt him for the rest of his life.

His trial began today and after gathering my paperwork and documents, I grabbed my briefcase before I walked to the door and away from my desk. After opening the door and stepping out of my office, I shut the door. Meanwhile, I walked away from my office and headed straight to the courtroom. After walking into the courtroom, I walked to the prosecutor's desk, and I laid down my briefcase next to my desk on the floor. I laid my papers and documents on the desk and I sat down on the chair behind the prosecutor's desk.

"All rise," says the bailiff in the courtroom.

I rose from my chair, a heavy sigh escaping my lips, as the defense attorney Lauren Jenny stood up too. The people of the court rose from their seats. The defendant's legs quivered, threatening to give way beneath him, as he reluctantly rose from his seat, his palms clammy and his breath catching in his throat. Judge Handle walked towards his desk in the courtroom. He sat down into his chair.

"Please be seated," says Judge Handle.

I sat back down in my chair and everyone else sat back down in their seats as well. "Good morning. This is case number 243572, Hedgexmoc versus the state of North Dakota. Mr. Morgan, are you ready to begin your opening statements?" wondered Judge Handle, looking at me.

"Yes, Your Honor," I answered back after standing up from my chair.

"You may begin," says Judge Handle. After the trial was over, I walked out of the courtroom, a heavy sigh escaped my lips, my lead attorney Charlie, walked beside me. He handed me over the file. I opened the file. I sighed.

"Is this Yovanni versus the Veronica where Mrs. Yovanni had murdered the twenty-three year old running over her with her car," I wondered.

"Yeah. She will be held at arraignment tomorrow at nine in the morning. Judge Handle will also be a part of the case," says Charlie.

I slammed the file shut, my voice quivering as I whispered, "I desperately need a break," before cautiously opening my office door and stepping inside.

After walking up to my desk, I put down my briefcase next to my desk on the floor. I sat in my chair and put down the file onto my desk. I softly moaned as I closed my eyes and tilted my head back in my chair.

"Are you okay?" wondered Charlie.

I nodded my head no. "No," I answered back.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asked Charlie.

I tilted my head forward and I opened my eyes. "What's going on?" wondered Charlie.

"I had another nightmare last night. About my brother's nanny who killed herself," I explained, furiously.

"Oh," answered Charlie.

"Ever since she passed away, my nights have been filled with heart-wrenching nightmares. I wake up every night, just panting and trying to wrap my head around it. Therefore, I shared with my wife about the constant nightmares," I answered Charlie.

"I can't imagine. I am really sorry you went through that," says Charlie.

"Yeah. I don't know if I will ever be able to recover," I answered Charlie.

"You will. It just takes time," says Charlie. I continued sitting in my chair behind my desk, and I nodded my head in agreement. Charlie sighs. He turned around and left my office. I continued sitting in my chair and staring at the door for a few seconds before I turned my head toward the picture frame that was standing on my desk.

It was a photo of Jacob, Heather, and me all together. We were smiling at each other's faces and I sighed before I tilted my head back in my chair once more.