The day of the court case was finally here. I walked into the courtroom feeling uneasy. The courthouse doors felt heavy. Maybe it was because of what I was about to face. Or maybe it was my father's memory, pushing on my shoulders, telling me, "Don't let them win."
I straightened my blazer, which was one of the few nice outfits I had, and stepped inside. The hallway was quiet except for the sound of footsteps. My lawyer, Gabriel, walked next to me. He looked calm and sure of himself. I really wished I could feel that way too.
I had avoided this place for years because of the pain it brought. But now, it was time to confront it. This time, I wouldn't run away.
As we entered the courtroom, my eyes took in the scene. There were polished wooden benches, a big judge's bench, and a few reporters waiting with their notebooks. And then I saw him.
Richardson.
He sat at the defendant's table, his face blank. He wore an expensive suit, a sign of the wealth he had built at my father's expense. He looked older, but not nearly enough. His lawyer, Johnson, whispered to him, but he didn't stir. He just sat there, as if he thought he had already won.
Not today.
Gabriel leaned in and asked, "You ready?"
I breathed out slowly. "As ready as I can be."
The bailiff's voice rang out, calling the court to order.
It was time.
"All rise."
Everyone stood when the judge walked in. She was a serious-looking woman with sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing. She sat down, adjusted her glasses, and looked around the room.
"This is the case of Emily Smithson vs. Richardson Bank regarding claims of bad lending practices and illegal foreclosure. Are both sides ready to start?"
Gabriel stood up. "The plaintiff is ready, Your Honor."
Johnson stood too. His voice was cool. "The defense is ready."
I clenched my fists under the table.
The judge nodded. "So, let's begin. Plaintiff, your opening statement, please."
Gabriel stood tall, his presence filled the room. He walked to the center, his voice steady but filled with feeling.
"Your Honor, ladies and gentlemen, we are here due to greed and the terrible results of unchecked power." He paused, letting that sink in.
"For years, John Smithson ran a reputable newspaper, Smithson News. It was small but had a strong voice. It wasn't afraid to call out the powerful. But that voice became a threat to one man, Richardson, the owner of a rival newspaper and the man behind Richardson Bank."
I watched Richardson closely. No reaction. But I could tell the words hit hard.
Gabriel kept going, calm as ever. "Richardson Bank gave loans to John Smithson. Bad loans meant to fail. When they did, instead of helping, they pushed him further down. They made payments due early and changed the terms unfairly. They used money as a weapon to silence a competitor."
I felt sick. My father had trusted Richardson. That trust had cost him everything.
"When my father struggled, they didn't offer to talk it out. They took everything from him. His business. His home. His dignity. And in the end, his life." Gabriel turned to the jury. "John Smithson was a real person, not just a number. He was a father, a husband, and he gave everything to his community, only to be crushed by a bank that saw him as just a problem."
He paused and looked at me. "His daughter, Emily Smithson, is here today, seeking the justice her father never got."
I sat up straighter.
Gabriel moved closer. "We will show you evidence, financial papers, letters, and witnesses, that prove Richardson Bank wanted to harm John Smithson. This wasn't just bad business. It was personal and wrong."
He turned to the judge. "And by the end, we will ask for justice. Not just for Emily, but to show that powerful people can't ruin lives and get away with it."
Gabriel returned to his seat. I could feel the shift in the room. The tension was thick. My father's story was sinking in.
Then, Johnson stood up for his opening statement.
"Your Honor, members of the jury," he started, smoothing his tie, "let's stick to the facts."
I instantly disliked his voice. It was calm but felt distant. Like this was just another case.
"My opponent tells a sad story, but let's be clear. This is about money, not feelings. John Smithson was a businessman. He took out loans and agreed to terms. When his business failed, like many others, he faced the results."
My nails dug into my palm.
"There's no proof at all that Richardson Bank did anything wrong. Businesses can succeed or fail. Loans must be paid back. Mr. Smithson made choices that led to his downfall."
Gabriel shifted beside me, unimpressed.
Johnson turned slightly toward me. "Emily Smithson wants justice, but she needs to accept that her father wasn't a victim. He made risky choices, and like many, he faced the fallout."
I bit my cheek to keep from reacting.
"The defense will show that Richardson Bank followed the law every step of the way. We'll provide contracts and repayment records showing Mr. Smithson was treated the same as any other borrower." Johnson faced the jury again. "This is not about fixing the past. It is about the law. And at the end of this trial, the law will show that Richardson Bank is not responsible for Mr. Smithson's unfortunate ending."
He sat down with a sense of satisfaction.
I wanted to scream.
The judge looked around and then focused on me.
"Ms. Smithson, please rise."
I swallowed hard and stood up.
"You will be our first witness."
I breathed out slowly.
Gabriel gave me a nod, but I felt Richardson's stare on me.
I was about to tell my father's story to the world. And I wouldn't let them twist it or let him down.
I've never liked public speaking. Not ever. As a kid, I avoided the spotlight. But today, all eyes were on me in the courtroom. Some looked curious. Some looked skeptical. And then there were Richardson's eyes, totally indifferent.
I sat on the witness stand, hands in my lap, trying to keep them from shaking.
The bailiff asked, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?"
I swallowed hard. "I do."
Gabriel, my lawyer, stood up and walked toward me. He gave off a calming vibe, but my heart was still racing.
"Ms. Smithson," he started, "can you tell the court about your father, John Smithson?"
I took a breath. This was my moment.
"My dad was a good man. He built Smithson News from the ground up. It wasn't just a job for him. It was everything. He valued the truth, even when it was tough. He fought against corruption."
Gabriel nodded. "Did that make him enemies?"
I looked at Richardson. He seemed unbothered.
"Yeah," I said. "Especially him." I pointed to Richardson. "He owned a competing newspaper that struggled while Smithson News did well. But Richardson had one thing my dad didn't, a bank."
The jury was now fully engaged.
Gabriel moved around a bit. "Can you explain what happened with Richardson Bank?"
I tightened my grip on my lap.
"My dad was careful with money. Not reckless at all. But when he needed a loan to grow the paper, he went to the bank. They approved it, but the loan terms were set to trap him. The interest was sky-high. The payment dates kept changing. My dad thought he had more time, but they kept pushing him. It was impossible for him to keep up."
I paused as tears filled my eyes.
"He tried so hard. But it got to be too much. When he fell behind, they took everything from him."
The room was silent. Even the reporters stopped writing.
Gabriel turned to the judge. "Your Honor, I'd like to show Exhibit A. These are the loan agreements and emails between John Smithson and Richardson Bank."
The bailiff handed the papers to the judge and the jury.
Gabriel held up a letter. "This is a notice from the bank, dated three months before my client's repayment deadline. It demanded immediate payment. Look closely and you'll see the original terms in his contract were ignored."
He put another paper on display. "Here's an email confirming a verbal promise to extend the loan terms, but the bank denied that on record."
Gasps filled the courtroom.
Gabriel turned back to me. "Emily, what happened when your father got this notice?"
I exhaled shakily.
"He panicked. He thought they made a mistake. He went to the bank to explain, but they wouldn't listen. They said if he didn't pay right away, they'd take everything."
I clenched my jaw. "They knew he couldn't pay. That was the plan all along."
Gabriel nodded, letting that sink in.
For a moment, the courtroom faded away. I was taken back to when I was fifteen. I stood outside my dad's office, peeking in. He was sitting at his desk, looking defeated.
"Dad?" I asked, stepping inside.
He jumped up, trying to smile. "Hey, sweetheart. You hungry? Spaghetti?"
I didn't buy it. His eyes were red and his desk was a mess of unpaid bills. Then I saw it, a foreclosure notice.
I picked it up. "Dad, what is this?"
He tried to take it back, but I wouldn't let go.
"Emily, it's nothing. I'll take care of it."
"How?" My voice shook. "We're losing everything, aren't we?"
He hesitated before finally saying, "I'm sorry."
That night, I didn't sleep. I spent hours looking for ways to help. That's when I realized I wasn't a kid anymore.
Back in the present, my hands gripped the witness stand.
Gabriel's voice softened. "Emily, what did your father's situation do to you?"
I took another deep breath. "I gave up so much to help. I worked odd jobs. I missed school events. I just wanted to keep food on the table. I watched my dad, a proud man, shrink under all that debt."
My voice shook, but I pressed on. "When they finally took everything, he stopped fighting. He stopped being my dad."
I glanced at Richardson. I hoped for a hint of guilt. Nothing.
His face showed no emotion at all.
I felt anger build inside. He took everything from us. He couldn't even look sorry.
I clenched my fists.
Gabriel turned to the judge. "Your Honor, I have one more piece of evidence."
The judge nodded. "Go ahead."
Gabriel took a deep breath. "I'd like to introduce Exhibit B, a financial report from Richardson Bank's records."
The bailiff passed it to the judge and jury.
Gabriel looked at everyone. "This shows that Richardson Bank targeted John Smithson on purpose. They marked him as a 'high-risk' borrower, not for financial reasons, but because of his business."
The crowd gasped. Even the judge leaned in.
Gabriel's voice turned serious. "This was never just about money. They wanted to eliminate the competition. Richardson Bank used these loans to destroy my client's newspaper. And now we have the proof."
I turned to Richardson, looking for any sort of reaction.
For the first time, I saw his jaw tighten.
The day was over, but my mind was still stuck in that courtroom.
I sat with Gabriel in his dark office, looking at the case files spread out between us. The weight of today's testimonies hung in the air. My words, my dad's old letters, the bank's rejection notices. Each piece of evidence brought back painful memories.
Gabriel rubbed his temples. "You did great today, Emily."
I sighed, "Did I?"
He nodded. "You made the jury feel something. That's half the battle."
I ran my fingers over my dad's letter. The ink was faded, but the desperation in his words was still strong.
"Please, I just need more time. I've been a loyal client for years."
Richardson had ignored him. Thrown him away like he meant nothing.
Tomorrow, Richardson would take the stand. And Gabriel would tear him apart.
I leaned back. "What if he's ready for this? What if he has a plan to twist the story?"
Gabriel smirked. "Oh, he'll try. He'll act all calm, like he was just running a business. But everyone cracks under pressure, Emily." He tapped the file in front of him. "And we have something he won't see coming."
I frowned. "You keep saying that. What are you holding back?"
Gabriel paused and slid a document across the desk. It was crisp and new, not one of my dad's old papers.
I picked it up. My eyes darted over the first few lines… and I gasped.
"This is from Richardson's bank?"
Gabriel nodded. "It's internal emails between board members about your dad." He pointed to a highlighted part. "Read this."
I read it, and everything suddenly made sense.
Smithson's business is a problem. If we keep the pressure on, he won't last. When he folds, we take his property and erase his debts.
I froze.
This wasn't just bad business. This was a planned attack.
I gripped the paper, my hands shaking. "This… this proves they wanted him to fail."
Gabriel leaned back, looking satisfied. "And tomorrow, when Richardson is under oath, we'll watch him squirm."
A chill ran down my spine. For once, Richardson would have nowhere to hide.
That night, I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Gabriel's words echoed in my mind.
Tomorrow, I wouldn't just be watching the trial. I would see Richardson fall apart.
I thought about my dad. The nights he stayed up worried about bills. The look in his eyes when he realized he was losing everything.
Tomorrow, he would finally get justice.
I closed my eyes, clutching the memo in my hands.
Richardson thought he had won.
Tomorrow, he'd see just how wrong he was.