A few days later, Ririko walked through the courthouse doors in a dark dress.
The entrance was packed with reporters, police officers, lawyers, and spectators, all desperate to be the first to learn the final outcome of Oswald Cobblepot's first-degree murder trial.
She made her way through the crowd as people stepped aside, entered the courtroom, and took a seat beside Sofia in the front row of the public gallery.
Sofia wore a navy suit, her long hair pinned up. She glanced sideways and gestured expressionlessly for Ririko to settle into her seat.
The judge entered through a side door and sat down. The clerk called the court to order.
Two bailiffs brought Oswald in through a side door.
As always, he wore a dark gray suit with a black satin tie. There was nothing to fault in his appearance.
But his pale face was noticeably thinner than it had been a month ago. His eyes were slightly sunken, with grayish-blue circles beneath them, as though he had barely slept for several nights.
He took his place in the dock, resting both hands on the railing in front of him.
He swept his gaze over the gallery before fixing it on where Ririko sat.
The corner of his mouth twitched as he tried to preserve a semblance of a dignified smile for her.
The hearing lasted more than two hours.
Oswald vehemently denied every charge against him.
He repeatedly insisted that he had not been at the scene that day, pointed out gaps in the timeline, and highlighted contradictions between the witnesses' testimonies.
But the prosecution's fabricated evidence shut down every argument he made.
The jurors' expressions shifted from attentive to weary. After the final charge was read, they retired to deliberate for less than an hour, then returned with