The courtroom went quiet as Judge Frank leaned forward, eyes locked on the young Black woman standing before him.
She had tears in her eyes — not weakness, but a storm of frustration, pain, and pride all bottled up after years of being unheard.
What followed wasn’t just a sentencing. It was a sermon.
“Ms. Johnson… you need to know something. Justice doesn’t always look the way it should. Sometimes it wears a badge. Sometimes it wears a robe. And sometimes… it walks in here in handcuffs.”
The courtroom was still.
“But what I won’t allow — not in my courtroom — is for your story to be reduced to a file number and a headline. You’re a person. You matter. And justice isn’t blind here — it sees you.”
People in the gallery nodded quietly. One woman wiped a tear.
“We can’t fix everything today. But in this room, right now, I will make sure fairness isn’t just a word — it’s something you leave here feeling.”
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