Even with a confession in hand, I was summoned as a witness for the prosecution. That was an ordeal I didn’t want to face. When Dana and I entered the courtroom, it was terrifying. Baylee’s family threatened to put me six feet under if I testified. There was a gang of ’em, at least eight. Their voices echoed no matter where we sat. The threats sounded loud—that’s how bold they were. They moved from the third row of seats to sit directly behind us, making sure we heard their threats.
“Let her open her mouth. She’ll be dead,” they said in harmony. Maybe they wouldn’t kill me. But I feared they’d actually go through with their threat. Wasn’t nothing nice about his kinfolks; they meant business. It was fate that spared my life, ’cause Baylee was still getting psychiatric treatments. Since he was undergoing treatment, the trial was rescheduled. Of course, Baylee had pleaded insanity. So if there wasn’t a trial, I didn’t have to worry about getting killed—at least, not then. And to think, I’d get protection from the police as a safety measure—huh, not a chance!
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