Ryan’s mask cracked. His smirk faded into a scowl, his eyes darting nervously. “Mom, you can’t just—”
“Yes, I can,” she snapped. “Because if I don’t, you’ll end up in prison before you’re twenty. Or worse—you’ll end up in a coffin. And I refuse to bury my son because he thought he was above the law.”
Karen wiped a tear from her cheek. “Your Honor, I can’t keep saving him. If detention will help, send him. If harsher punishment is needed, do it. But please—don’t let him walk out of here believing he can keep living like this. He needs to know that not even his mother will stand by his lies anymore.”
The Sentence
The prosecutor, moved by the moment, suggested a year at Franklin Juvenile Rehabilitation Center, a place known for structure, counseling, and job training. The defense attorney, realizing the tide had turned, reluctantly agreed.
Judge Whitmore raised his gavel. “Ryan Cooper, I hereby sentence you to twelve months at Franklin Juvenile Rehabilitation Center. You will undergo mandatory counseling, complete your education program, and perform community service for the very neighborhoods you’ve stolen from. If you fail to comply, you will be transferred to adult court upon your eighteenth birthday.”
The gavel struck. The sound was sharp, final.
Ryan slumped in his seat. The cocky boy who had walked into the courtroom now looked like a child stripped of his armor.
A Mother’s Love, Redefined
As the officers approached to take Ryan into custody, Karen stepped forward. She placed a trembling hand on her son’s shoulder. He didn’t meet her eyes.
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