I had wondered if there would be cheering. With my lawyer’s attitude from the beginning of the trial, I knew there was no chance of any other verdict. And from what I could separate as fact from hallucination from my terrible detox in the holding cell, everyone wanted to see me burn. But there wasn’t any sort of applause. There weren’t any sounds at all. It was as if all of the people in the courtroom had already anticipated this outcome, just as I had. There was an air of acceptance, of resignation, even. Yes, of course she’s guilty. We knew it all along. There were a litany of charges against me, all of them having to do with promoting prostitution and compelling prostitution. The real feather in the prosecution’s hat was the sex trafficking conviction. That meant real time. Time. It was a funny thing. At night, it dragged by, the darkness absolute in my holding cell. I was left alone and it gave me so many long hours to think about my life. What I’d done. What I hadn’t.
