Chapter 281 Garrett
Chapter 281 Garrett
Garrett
The hope Lance had given me didn’t survive long.
For a few minutes, the courtroom had seen Graves for what he was. I’d seen it in the jury’s faces and in the way they looked at Lance instead of the man seated beside his attorneys.
Then Aitor took the stand, and the fight began all over again.
He looked composed as he was sworn in, but I knew him well enough to notice the tension in his jaw. His eyes found mine before he sat down, and the warmth in them nearly broke me.
The prosecutor approached him. “Mr. Castro, how long have you known Garrett Williams?”
“Since we were children. Our families have known each other for years.”
“Would you consider Garrett to be a violent or cruel person?”
“No,” Aitor answered without hesitation. “He can be angry and impulsive, but never cruel. Garrett protects people. Sometimes he does it badly, and sometimes he forgets to protect himself in the process, but I’ve never known anyone who cares as deeply as he does.”
He told them about my nightmares and the nights when he found me shaking, unable to remember where I was. He described the terror that appeared every time Graves or my mother called and how desperately I tried to keep everyone pleased so no one would be punished because of me.
Then he told them about the day I was taken from Crownwell.
“They had restrained his hands and placed something over his mouth,” Aitor said, his control slipping for the first time. “Garrett was fighting them. He kept trying to scream Aslan’s name, but I could barely understand him through the muzzle.”
The word moved through the courtroom like something filthy.
“What did you do?”
“I tried to reach him, but they forced him into the vehicle and drove away. I knew Aslan had been inside, so I ran into the building as fast as I could, but our dorms are far into one of the wings, and it took me a few minutes.” Aitor swallowed. “I found him on the floor. Mrs. Williams was standing nearby, and Dr. Graves was in the room.”
“Had emergency services already been called?”
“No. Dr. Graves was calling for an ambulance just as I arrived.”
I looked at Graves. He never lifted his head. The defense attorney did.
“Mr. Castro, you testified that Mr. Williams is not violent or cruel. Earlier this school year, did you protect Aslan Rivers on several occasions after someone gave him the Silver Star?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly is the Silver Star?”
Aitor’s gaze briefly moved toward me. “It’s a symbol used by an elite student at Crownwell to identify someone as an enemy. It can mean social exclusion, but it also leads to bullying.”
“And did Mr. Rivers experience that bullying?”
“Yes.”
“He was harassed in class?”
“Yes.”
“Punched near the locker rooms?”
“Yes.”
“His assignments were destroyed?”
“Yes.”
“And he was locked inside a closet?”
Aitor’s voice hardened. “Yes.”
The defense attorney paused before asking, “Who ordered the Silver Star placed on Aslan Rivers’s locker?”
Silence expanded around us.
Aitor looked down, afraid to say the words. “Garrett did.”
My stomach dropped.
“Mr. Williams also physically fought Mr. Rivers later that year, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And during that fight, Mr. Rivers suffered a cardiac episode and was taken to the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Who initiated the fight?”
Aitor’s fingers tightened against the edge of the stand. “Garrett.”
The defense attorney returned to his table without another question.
I stared at my hands. Everything Aitor said was true. I had given Aslan the Silver Star. I had created the permission everyone else needed to torment him, and then I had attacked him myself.
Aitor had tried to tell them who I was beneath all that fear. In less than five minutes, the defense had shown them what I’d done instead.
Trisha took the stand next.
She explained that I had asked her to pretend we were together because my parents and Graves treated me differently when they believed I was with someone of their choosing. She told the jury how my shoulders relaxed whenever my mother approved of us and how quickly I panicked if Trisha did anything that might make our relationship appear false.
“Did Dr. Graves ever discuss your relationship with you?” the prosecutor asked.
“Yes. He said Garrett needed stability and that our relationship was proof he was finally making healthy choices.” Trisha rubbed her palms against her skirt. “The way he said it made it clear we were expected to stay together. It gave me chills.”
The defense attorney rose with a stack of papers he barely glanced at. “Miss Miller, weren’t you seen pursuing another student at the beginning of the school year?”
“I’ve dated plenty of people, sir. It’s college.”
“Did you date Aslan Rivers?”
“No. We spent time together, but we never dated.”
“Did you tell your best friend, Miss Lorry Kent, that you had ‘blown it’ with Mr. Rivers because he caught you and Garrett Williams having sex in a barn?”
Trisha’s face drained of color. Her gaze shot toward the back of the courtroom, where Lorry sat staring down at her lap.
“Miss Miller?” the attorney pressed.
“Yes,” Trisha said tightly. “I told her that.”
“So you and Mr. Williams weren’t pretending then?”
“No. Not at that point.”
“Therefore, this relationship wasn’t created solely to deceive his parents. You were genuinely involved with him.”
“Sometimes we were.” Trisha lifted her chin. “That doesn’t change why he later asked me to pretend.”
The attorney picked up another paper. “Did you recently charge a two-hundred-dollar purse to Mr. Williams’s credit card?”
“It was my birthday. He asked what I wanted and told me to get something nice.”
“Right before this hearing?”
“Yes.”
The defense attorney smiled as though he had already gotten the answer he wanted. “Quite a generous gift for five minutes of testimony.”
“Objection!”
“Sustained,” the judge said sharply. “The jury will disregard counsel’s last remark.”
But no one could unhear it.
Trisha left the stand looking furious and humiliated. I wanted to apologize, although I didn’t know whether I was sorry for the purse, the barn, or every time my life had dragged one of my friends into a courtroom and made their love for me look dishonest.
Coach Ryan Halt followed her.
He spoke about my academic record, my discipline as a wrestler, and how I stepped between other students and danger even when doing so placed me at risk. He also testified that he had overheard one of Graves’s video calls to me. Graves had said he didn’t care which school event I was attending because my duty to him came before anything else. “Disappointment, shame, disgrace,” Coach repeated, looking toward the jury. “Humiliating words I wouldn’t have used against an enemy, let alone an impressionable young man who trusted him as his doctor and mentor.”
The defense had photographs waiting.
“Mr. Halt, did you witness Garrett Williams strike a student named Rick Jackson?”
“Yes.”
“More than once?”
“Yes.”
“Did you also witness Mr. Williams shouting at and threatening Crownwell’s director?”
“I witnessed him confronting the director.”
“So that’s another physical attack and another confrontation with authority.”
Halt leaned forward slightly. “Rick Jackson was attacking Aslan Rivers when Garrett intervened. And Garrett confronted the director because the school repeatedly failed to protect a student who was being assaulted. If you want to call that dangerous behavior, you’re welcome to. I call it refusing to stand by while someone gets hurt.”
The defense attorney’s expression tightened. “But Mr. Williams did strike Mr. Jackson.”
“Yes.” Halt didn’t look away. “He stopped him.”
That answer gave me back a fraction of the air Aitor’s cross-examination had taken from me.
James testified after Coach Halt. His voice shook, but his answers didn’t. He told the jury we had been inseparable as children until my mother decided our friendship was a bad influence. Soon afterward, I "disappeared."
“When Garrett came back, he wasn’t the same,” James said. “The happy kid I knew was gone. He was scared of everything, especially getting close to people. It took years before he really let anyone near him again.” His eyes found mine. “I’ve watched Garrett suffer more than most people ever will, and he’s still the bravest, brightest man I know.”
Other friends and teachers followed. They talked about my grades, my work, and the person they believed I was. Each time, the defense found an argument, a mistake, or an angry moment to place beside their words.
By the afternoon, I no longer knew what the jury saw when they looked at me. A frightened boy who had spent years surviving, or a violent liar surrounded by friends willing to say anything for him.
The prosecutor stood and checked the next name on her list. “The State calls Aslan Rivers.”
The doors opened.
My lion walked in alone.