Epilogue
For the next several weeks, Murphy worked non-stop on her final essay, various depositions, and the Norwood case. Members of the jury did not seem to be sympathetic of him, and were quite moved by eleven-year-old Victoria’s speech about the man who was her father. She sobbed a little on the stand, while Norwood just sat there without emotion for the mother whom he’d successfully taken away from this child.
Victoria would tuck her golden hair behind her ears periodically, and then shake it out after she got tired of it that way. Her hair resembled spun wheat, and her eyes were an attractive nut brown; her nails on her small, delicate hands had been painted by some kind adult presumably, and were a firey red.
“Now, Victoria, was Mr. Norwood always in your life?” asked Amber.
Vic
