The heavy air inside the courthouse seemed to stop moving when the gavel came down. “Guilty. Life imprisonment,” the judge said, his voice measured, his eyes weary. Around him, people shuffled papers and gathered coats, the way strangers do when they want to move past something painful.
Then came a voice—quiet but steady. “Your Honor,” the man in the orange uniform said, “I have one request before I go. My son was born last week. I’ve never held him. Just once—may I see him?”
The judge studied the prisoner’s face—a man both younger than his sentence and older than his mistakes. Finally, he nodded. “Bring them in.”
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