Chapter 4 - Trial by Media
The next morning, the Harrington PR machine roared to life. I turned on the local news to see Melissa standing on the steps of the hospital, looking immaculate and appropriately somber. Brooklyn stood beside her, dabbing at dry eyes with a tissue.
"My son is fighting for his life, undergoing excruciating skin grafts," Melissa told the cluster of microphones. "He welcomed this woman into our family with open arms. We gave her everything. And in return, she tried to murder him in a fit of psychotic rage over a spilled bowl of soup. She is a monster, and we will not rest until she is behind bars."
Within hours, the clip went viral. The internet dragged my name through the mud. Social media commentators called me a "feral gold-digger" and a "psycho bride." Reporters camped on my parents' lawn. Someone spray-painted MURDERER across the front window of my family's hardware store.
My mother wept in the kitchen while my father tried to scrub the paint off the glass.
"Annie, we should take the video to the police," my father pleaded, stepping inside and wiping sweat from his brow.
"No," I said, my voice hardening into something unrecognizable. "Detective Reynolds already proved he's on their payroll. If I hand this over to the local precinct, the file will mysteriously 'corrupt' again, or they'll claim it's doctored. The Harringtons own the system here."
"Then what do we do?"
"We don't take it to the law," I said, closing my laptop and sliding it into my backpack. "We take it to the public. They want a trial by media? I'm going to give them one."
I needed someone outside the Harringtons' sphere of influence. Someone hungry, ruthless, and possessing a platform large enough that it couldn't be silenced. I began searching for names of journalists who had previously tried—and failed—to expose the Harringtons' shady construction deals.
One name kept popping up: Elias Thorne. He ran an independent investigative outlet based in Phoenix. He had been sued by Melissa twice for defamation and won both times, but he had never managed to land a fatal blow against their empire.
May you like
Until now.
I found his office address, slipped out the back door to avoid the reporters, and drove straight to Phoenix. I had a loaded gun in my backpack in the form of a flash drive, and I was ready to pull the trigger.
