Not this time." Zuri wiped her face. "They said their parents would fix everything." Major Hale turned to her with a look that was both fierce and reassuring. "Not if I fix it first. "Drama ignited in the room. Major Hale wasn't just a soldier, he was a decorated Air Force officer with decades of service and a reputation for tearing apart corruption wherever it hid. And today, his target wasn't an enemy nation or foreign threat, it was a school system, a principal, two wealthy families, a culture of immunity. Captain Reyes cleared his throat. Sir, there's more.
The case is being assigned to Judge McKinley. Major Hale blinked. Isaac McKinley? Reyes nodded. Yes, sir.
Struck like lightning. Judge Isaac McKinley wasn't just any judge. Years ago, during a severe training accident, Major Hale had pulled him from a burning aircraft, saving his life and ending his flying career. McKinley had sworn he would repay that debt one day. He never expected the debt would be paid through justice for Hale's daughter.
Major Hale exhaled slowly. Then the truth will be heard. Reyes straightened. He's already requested all evidence. He's pushing for an emergency hearing.
How soon? 48 hours. 48 hours until the nation learned the truth. 48 hours until B Squad faced a courtroom they could not intimidate or manipulate. 48 hours until the walls of privilege trembled because attempted murder in the sky wasn't a school incident.
It was a federal-level crime. And the courtroom was about to shake under the weight of what came next. The Sunridge County Superior Court had never seen anything like this. By dawn, the steps were already flooded with reporters, photographers, live streamers, and protesters holding signs demanding justice. By noon, police had erected barricades to control the crowd.
Camera crews lined the sidewalk, broadcasting updates every few minutes as the most anticipated hearing in years prepared to begin. Inside the courtroom, the atmosphere was electric. Every seat was filled victims advocates, military personnel, students from Crestwood High, civil rights groups, and dozens of journalists scribbling furiously. Even the aisles were crowded with people standing shoulder to shoulder. When Judge Isaac McKinley finally walked in, the room fell silent instantly.
He carried a presence that demanded respect, sharp-eyed, uncompromising, and infamous for rulings no amount of money or influence could sway. Everyone in the courtroom knew that whatever happened today, he would not be manipulated. He took his seat. "Bring in the defendants." Chase Walker, Beau Turner, and Miles Carter were escorted in, dressed in suits that did nothing to hide the fear etched into their faces.
The moment Chase saw the packed room, he visibly swallowed. Beau trembled. Miles refused to lift his gaze from the floor. The hearing began. The prosecution dimmed the lights and projected the live stream and body camera footage on a large screen.
Gasps erupted across the room. The dragging, the taunts, the shove, Zuri's fall, every second captured, every cruelty laid bare. Chase shifted in his seat, sweating. Beau covered his face with one hand. Miles looked like he might faint.
Their lawyer scrambled to regain control. Turner family's attorney, a man notorious for bending narratives, stood confidently. "This footage," he argued, "must be reviewed in context. Miss Hale might have lost her balance." The boys panicked. "It was a tragic accident, not a malicious act." Murmurs not murmurs of disbelief spread instantly. Zuri's attorney rose. "Lost her balance? She was pushed. "At that, the prosecutor replayed the shove in slow motion. Loud gasps filled the chamber. Beau flinched. Chase clenched his jaw. But the worst came next.
The audio, the racial slurs, the mocking laughter, the threats hurled at Zuri moments before she was shoved out of the helicopter, the courtroom erupted. Anger, disgust, shouts demanding accountability. Judge McKinley slammed his gavel once, just once, and the entire room snapped back into silence. Then Major Hale stood. He walked to the stand, shoulders broad, uniform crisp, presence commanding.
His voice was steady, deep, resonant. "They didn't just attack my daughter," he said. "They attempted to kill an American citizen at 300 meters above ground, and they laughed while doing it." The words landed like thunder. Drama pulsed through every corner of the courtroom.
The defense attorneys stiffened, realizing the tide was against them. Then Judge McKinley leaned forward. "For transparency, I must disclose something. Years ago, Major Hale saved my life during a flight accident, but let me be perfectly clear." His eyes sharpened. "That fact has no bearing on today's decision. My integrity will not be questioned." The defense paled. No one could accuse the judge of bias because he addressed it before they even tried. The room held its breath as Zuri's lawyer approached the bench. "Your Honor, the victim's legal team has one more piece of evidence to submit." McKinley nodded. "Proceed." A hush fell over the courtroom so complete it seemed the air itself stopped moving. As the new evidence loaded on the screen, every heartbeat in the room synchronized, quiet, tense, anticipating the blow that could change everything.
And this final piece would become the turning point that sent the next hearing into absolute shock. The special evidence review chamber inside the Sunridge State Legal Complex was unlike a courtroom. There were no grand marble columns, no rows of spectators, no cameras waiting to capture drama. This room was quiet, sterile, designed for truth stripped of theatrics. Zuri sat beside two investigators, her hands folded in her lap.
Across the table, a state evidence magistrate prepared the report, adjusting his glasses with a slow, deliberate motion. A device lay in the center of the table. Zuri's body camera, recovered from the helicopter seats, still intact, still recording even after her fall. The magistrate tapped his pen. We found an audio file your live stream did not capture.
Zuri stiffened. What kind of file? Your body camera was voice activated. It began recording earlier than the live stream, before the helicopter doors opened. Miles Carter was escorted into the room, wrists loosely cuffed.
He couldn't look at Zuri. His guilt had weight, and it bent him like gravity. Two officers stood behind him. The magistrate pressed play. A voice filled the room, clear, cocky, unmistakable.