GRACE REGIFTED

GRACE RE-GIFTED - Prologue

Brooke – August, 2023 –Dallas, Texas

As I await the verdict, I’m overwhelmed with a rush of mixed emotions. I truly want mercy and forgiveness for this guy, but I know the law and appreciate the legal system. It’s in place to protect society. Plus, there’s a revolving door of repeat offenders, like this guy.

Yeah, it’s inevitable that the verdict will be guilty. But what will the sentence be? I hold a deep hope that it includes a prison ministry that draws this lost soul to Christ.

I look at my brother-in-law, John, seated to my left. He looks distinguished with his salt-and-peppered hair. He started greying in his thirty’s and I’ve wondered lately whether it had to do with being married to my occasionally intense sister or due to the demands of being an attorney. Maybe a combination.

I know, without a doubt, John shares my convictions about the sentencing part of the trial. When we represent a case together, we always do a thorough job preparing for and executing the trial to hopefully result in a winning outcome. But more importantly, John and I are on the same page with advocating Christian ministry, even if the verdict is life in prison, or worse, death.

John and I are senior partners in our family business, Conrad – Townsend Law Firm. We work together when we both have unique contributions to bring to the table. For this trial, John brings his expertise in criminal law and I bring my personal experience, which, in this case, outweighs my law degree.

I glance back to see my dad seated behind us. He was the founder of our law firm, now retired for five years. I’m his thirty-six-year-old daughter and John, his forty-one-year-old son-in-law, married to my older sister, Abbey. I’ve always thought that parents never stop being parents, no matter how old the offspring. Looking back at my dad’s face, I’m certain of it. Dad is beaming, I’m sure with pride in John and me. He sees this trial as a win.

I see it as rightful closure for the victim’s family. I see it as a warning for future perpetrators and hopefully a means of protection for future victims.

But I also see it as the trial of a human life suspended. It’s suspended between a choice of repentance or repeated rebellion, not just to society, but to Christ. With Christ, it means eternal life and without Christ, it means eternal death.

As the jury files back into the courtroom, my thoughts wander back to a different time. Memories flood in. The events happened almost two decades ago, yet they are still so vivid in my mind, as if they occurred yesterday.