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Clean Verdict, Dirty Truth Novel Cover

Clean Verdict, Dirty Truth

After Monica Porter dies by suicide following brutal abuse, her brother is devastated. Despite clear evidence of Eric Hoyles's cruelty, the protagonist's wife, Judge Sandra Pauley, dismisses the case as consensual art. Driven to madness by this betrayal of justice, the grieving brother captures Eric and hangs him from a school flagpole. During a live broadcast to the world, he uses a claw hammer to demand the original video evidence, forcing a violent reckoning for his sister's shattered life.
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Chapter 2

"Monica threatened me with those brand new prosthetics!" Eric cried. "She said if I didn't agree to be with her, she would kill herself right in front of me!"

Tears streamed down his still handsome face, his expression pitiful enough to break hearts.

"I'm the real victim here! I just wanted her to calm down, but she tried to frame me with her death!

"Now, she's dead, and everyone's attacking me! Bradley, how can you hurt me over a woman who couldn't take rejection and wanted to destroy me?

"Sandra! Tell him the truth! Please save me!"

The mood in the live chat flipped almost instantly.

[I'm actually crying. He's way too tragic. Gets obsessed over by a mentally unstable girl, then hunted down by her psycho brother.]

[She brought it on herself! She couldn't get the guy, so she burned everything down and dragged everyone with her. That's just gross.]

[The brother's unhinged, too. Didn't he know what his sister was really like? The cops should lock him up before he hurts someone else.]

[I feel bad for the guy. He's handsome, decent, and he even stayed silent to protect a dead girl's reputation. And this is what he gets.]

[So that's what really happened. Love turning into hate. Her brother's basically a ticking time bomb.]

He said my sister, Monica Porter, fell?

Did he think I was an idiot?

Those prosthetic legs cost every dollar I saved over ten years. They were custom-built.

The frame was aerospace-grade carbon fiber. The joints were reinforced titanium alloy. Even if a car ran them over, it would leave nothing more than a few scratches.

There was no way they could shatter into cold, broken pieces from a simple fall.

I stared at the rolling wall of venomous comments. I stared at Eric's face as he twisted the truth without blinking. Every word I wanted to say clogged in my throat.

What was the point of reasoning with an animal?

Seeing my silence, Eric thought he had won. A trace of smugness crept into his voice.

He pressed on while the iron was hot.

"Bradley, look, everyone knows what's right and wrong. I get that you loved Monica, but you can't let her fool you forever. And honestly… She told me in private that she hated her legs. She said they were a burden. She even said if she could get rid of them in some dramatic way, and make me remember her forever, it would be worth it…"

I let out a short laugh. I couldn't hold it in anymore.

My tone shifted, and I cut straight to the point.

"Sandra, why does the bullying video you submitted to the court end right when Monica falls?

"What about the part where Eric and his friends surround her, filming on their phones, laughing while they force her to crawl on the floor like a dog to pick up the broken pieces of her legs?

"You cut that part out, didn't you?"

Eric kept fighting back. "Monica was already mentally unstable! What you're doing now is exactly what she wanted. You're helping her complete her twisted final wish!"

I didn't give him another second to speak.

The claw hammer in my hand traced a cold arc through the air and came down hard on Eric's other intact ankle.

Crack!

The sickening sound of bone snapping rang out, layered with his piercing scream.

I looked straight into the camera, my voice flat and icy.

"That's the second one. You've got two hours. If you can't produce the full video, I'll use this hammer to smash every bone in his body, inch by inch. And then I'll pull out every tendon, one by one."

-

Shrill police sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer by the second. Below the building, flashing lights sealed off the entire block.

Special response units in black tactical gear moved into position. On distant rooftops, snipers took aim.

I looked at the scene unfolding beneath me and let out a dismissive smile.

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