1.8 Lost and Found: Part 4 The Origin of Marshal Weaver Part 2

A/N: WOAH, guys! Look at this! It’s an actual chapter..! Can it be? Why yes! I finally buckled down and took the pictures that were needed for this chapter (I had it written for AGES). I had wanted to post this before I left to get married, and go on my honeymoon, but it was not so. But anyway, here is the final chapter to Conrad’s backstory. I have about 2 more chapters left for this whole “lost and found” arc. I hope you enjoy! As per usual, likes & comments are always appreciated! Enjoy! 🙂



Turning myself in was one of the scariest things I had ever done. I was put in a jail cell for only one night, as they posted bail the next morning, but I had never felt more alone in my life. I spent most of my time there laying on the bed in my cell, crying my eyes out.


Evalynn, Constance, and Mary Ann came together the next morning, and were allowed to take me home. Evalynn refused to tell me where they had gotten the money to pay for bail, but I found out later from Constance that she had taken the money out of the account that she was putting money in for repairs for their old church building. I told Evalynn that I would try my hardest to pay her back if I was found innocent.


She told me to hush, and that she just wanted me to focus on giving my testimony for now, and worry about my trial.



The day of my trial, I was a big ball of nerves. I only took a few bites of my food, pushing the plate away from me as I tried to fight the nausea that was in my stomach. I moved over to the couch so that I could be by myself, and tried to take a couple thousand deep breaths.


Unfortunately I couldn’t calm my nerves. I felt as if someone had their hand around my heart, and that they were squeezing it with all of their might. I wiped the sweat from my brow, as I began to hyperventilate. At my wits end, I did something I normally would not do. I began to pray.

The Lee sisters had taken me to their church services in the past, I just usually ended up sitting in the back not paying attention. I had trouble believing there was a God. Especially with all that I went through. But I had reached the end of my rope.

I began to practically beg, pleading that if I really was innocent, a thing that even I wasn’t sure of, that the judge would find me innocent. I prayed that the truth would be revealed, and if I was indeed guilty, that I’d be able to accept my punishment.



When we got to the courtroom, I was directed to the defendant’s seat. Which was right next to Lorraine. As the judge came in, I looked over at the prosecutor. He was an older gentleman, with scruffy looking dirty blonde hair, and a permanent frown.


Lorraine had warned me that he was a tough man to beat, and seeing the determined look in his eye, I felt the nerves spread from my stomach, to every section of my body.


After the judge was seated. They called the first witness. Officer Miraj Alvi. He was my next door neighbor, and apparently on the day of my parent’s murder, he was the one who heard the gunshot, and saw me running away. He was a good guy, so I knew that he would only tell the truth of what he saw. But what he did see, really didn’t look good on my part.


He told the prosecutor of how he would constantly hear yelling coming from inside my house. He also mentioned on few occasions, he would see my mom outside of our house. He would see cuts and bruises on her body that she would try, in vain, to hide. The prosecutor asked him a couple more questions, and then Lorraine stood up. She walked over to Miraj.

"I just have one question." she stated. "If you knew all of this, the fact that Mr. Weaver was both verbally, and physical abusive, why didn’t you do anything about it?" At that, Miraj’s eyes fell, and guilt crossed his features.


He fidgeted with his collar. "That’s actually something that has been on my mind for a long time. As an officer of the law, it was my job to protect the citizens of Sunset Valley. Yet, I didn’t do anything to stop whatever was happening in the house that was right next to mine. I… I was afraid that if I did something, that it would cause more harm than good. So I told myself that it was just better for everyone if I turned a blind eye. Whether or not it could have prevented all of this, I’ll never know. But the ‘what if’s are something that still swirl around in my mind." He looked at me with guilt written all over his face, and the small amount of anger that I had toward him dissolved. I felt like I should be mad at him, but I wasn’t.


Lorraine told the judge that she had no further questions, and Miraj was allowed to step down from the witness stand.


The prosecution then called up a whole bunch of people to prove his point that I was a troubled child. Anyone from old teachers who could testify of my troubled behavior, to even having Evalynn come and tell what happened from the time she found me in the park, until now. But no matter what they may have said, he spun their testimony in such a way, that it appeared as if I brutally killed both of my parents in cold blood.  He was so persuasive, that had I not been the defendant, even I probably would have believed him.


Finally I was called to the stand. I nervously took a seat, and began answering the prosecutor’s questions. I tried my hardest to tell them all of the details that I could remember, but the prosecutor’s questions slowly became more and more accusatory. Tears started to form in my eyes, and my glasses started to smudge. I tried taking a couple of deep breaths, but I felt as if my throat was starting to close up. I only barely heard Lorraine shout out an objection, and then the prosecutor said that he had no more questions.


The judge called for a five minute recess, mainly so that I could catch my breath and relax again.

When we went back, I took the stand again, this time to answer Lorraine’s questions. I was worried that I would get choked up again, and I wouldn’t be able to give a proper testimony.


As opposed to hounding me with questions, as she had when I first met her, Lorraine walked over to me slowly and placed her hand on the stand in front of me.

"Now Marshal, would you please tell the court the events that happened on the day of your parents murder?"

I started slowly, trying to make sure that I wouldn’t start panicking. Every time that the feeling would rise inside of me, I would look over at Evalynn, Constance, and Mary Ann, and they would silently help me to calm back down so that I could continue. Lorraine also helped me get the important details out by asking a question every so often.


Telling my story took longer than expected, but when I finally finished, I felt like the worst was over.  I answered a couple more of her questions, and then I was able to go back to my seat.

The judge asked if either the prosecutor or Lorraine had anyone else that they would like to bring to the stand. At that, Lorraine called for one more witness, named Luke McDermott. I looked back, and I saw an older gentleman begin to walk to the stand. He appeared to be a businessman, but his cowboy hat and boots threw off the businesslike image.


"Mr. McDermott, would you please state your occupation?"


"’Course." He said in a slow, southern drawl. "I’m the owner of ‘McDermott Gun Emporium’, ‘n I own the dairy farm across town."

"So would you say that you would have a vast amount of knowledge about guns?"

"If I din’t, then I shouldn’t be ownin’ a gun shop, eh?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Mr. McDermott, the reason I ask, is because I believe we need a professional opinion. Just to make sure, does your shop sell this model?" She asked him, handing him a photo of the gun that was considered the murder weapon.

"We haven’t sold a model like this ‘n a couple years, but I know ‘nuff ‘bout it."


"Excellent." Lorraine said with a confident smile. "Now, what was the reason behind the discontinuation of this type of pistol?" At that question, Mr. McDermott became really serious, and there was a sad look in his eyes.


"There were… multiple r’ports of accidents where the gun would… accident’lly go off. The trigger is veeery sensitive. The manufacturin’ company did that ‘cuz they figured it would make it easier to fire, ‘n not put so much strain of the finger. Bunch of hogwash, iffen you ask me."

"I have, with me, a list of about 15 victims that died due to the faulty trigger." Lorraine said, as she handed the list to the judge. "Including 3 children. One of whose name was Travis McDermott." At this, Luke McDermott’s face twisted in anger. I felt really guilty that Lorraine was bringing such a sensitive subject up, but I didn’t know what to say to get her to stop.

"Mr. McDermott, could you please tell us what happened?"


"I…" He said, sounding utterly defeated. "Someone was stealin’ from us, we din’t know who don’ it, or how. But we’d wake up in the mornin’ and find some of our livestock missin’, then we began losin’ tools. So I did what I thought I should do, and I armed my boys. Not so that they could actually shoot or kill someone, just so that they could scare ’em off. I gave Maximus, my older son, the pistol. I figured he was ‘sponsible ‘nuff. Well, one night, both of my boys thought they heard somethin’. They grabbed their guns, and ran outside together. Maximus told me that they din’t see anyone, until they got to the barn. When they opened the door, someone ran out, and bumped into Max, shoving him hard. He barely pulled the trigger as he was falling, but the gun fired, and hit Travis. We tried gettin’ him to the hospital. But… He din’t make it." Lorraine thanked him, and allowed him to step down. But before he rushed out, I saw him quickly wipe tears from his eyes. My heart went out to him, and I wished that there was something that I could do. I sadly turned my attention back to the front as the judge ushered both Lorraine and the prosecutor to say their closing statements.


The prosecutor went first. He spoke directly to the jury, occasionally giving me backwards glances. I had felt shaky enough, and the looks he would give me made me feel like dirt.


He portrayed me as a troubled teen, stating the testimony of my teachers, and Officer Alvi proved that I was an unstable young man. He brought to light the fact that my fingerprints had been on the grip, and trigger, of the gun. Which meant that I had to have held it at some point. He stated that with the angle that my father was shot, and based on the testimonies of his personality, it wouldn’t make sense for him to commit suicide. Finally, he practically begged, or in his words "implored", the jury not to let a guilty man get away with cold blooded murder. I was about to stand up and tell him off, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Lorraine, and she was gently ushering me to remain seated. She shook her head slightly, and then she stood up to give her final statement.


"If you look closely at Ms. Kelly’s autopsy report, you will notice that when the bullet entered her head, it entered at an angle that you would have to be tall enough that your arm would be horizontal. Now, Ms Kelly was about average height. So the person who shot her would have to be tall enough that she would only be about shoulder height to them."


She had been walking towards where the jury sat, then she turned around and continued talking as she walked back toward me. "Included in the stack of papers is the doctor’s report of Marshal’s last checkup before the time of the murder, and you will see that it says that he was about the same height as his mother at that time."


By this time she had reached the desk, and had turned to face the judge again. "In order for him to be able to fire the gun, and hit her at that angle, he would either have to jump while he pulled the trigger, or he would need to stand on top of something that would make up for the height difference. Both instances are highly unlikely." She put her hands on her hips. "Which leaves us to wonder, ‘If Marshal wasn’t able to shoot his mother at that angle, then who was?’" With a confident smirk, she continued.


"The obvious answer for that is the only other person there. Mr. Archer Weaver. If you would kindly look at his autopsy report, you will see that Mr. Weaver was well past the height required to be able to shoot Ms. Kelly straight on." She then called the bailiff over. "If your honor would give me permission, I’d like to show a bit of a demonstration." When the judge nodded, she held out her hand. The bailiff handed her a paper bag.

"Now, let’s say that we continue with my scenario. Seeing as Mr. Weaver is the only one tall enough to shoot Ms. Kelly from that angle, He would be the one holding the gun. It would be pointless for him to turn the gun on himself, and if he was attempting to commit suicide, there is a higher chance that he would point it at his head, as opposed to his chest. Also, the pistol had been dusted for fingerprints, and it was proven that Marshal’s prints had been found on the grip of the gun. However, it was also proven that Archer’s fingerprints were also found on the grip, and that fingerprints, belonging to Marshal, were found on the barrel of the pistol." She reached into the bag, and pulled out what looked exactly like the gun that I had used. Before anyone could react to the fact that there was a gun in the courtroom, Lorraine continued with her story.


"This, your honor, is an exact replica of the gun used to kill Mr. Weaver and Ms. Kelly. It is not an actual gun, and doesn’t contain any bullets. It does, however, react in the same way that the actual gun would." She pulled the trigger to show proof that the gun wouldn’t harm anyone. The pistol produced loud clicks when she pulled the trigger, as if she had the actual gun, just without any bullets. She then casually approached the bailiff. "If you would be so kind as to hold this?" She asked. He quickly grabbed the gun, and held it at his side. Lorraine ushered him forward, until he was standing in front of the judge, and then turned to face the jury.


"Based on Mr. Weaver’s testimony, he attempted to wrestle the gun from his father, and after a bit of a struggle, the trigger was accidentally pulled, and his father was shot in the chest. Under normal circumstances, that would be very unlikely. But if you remember the testimony of Mr. McDermott, the gun was recalled because the trigger was deemed too sensitive." She turned back to face the bailiff. Apparently the bailiff had been told already what was going to happen, because he wasn’t caught off guard when Lorraine tried to take the gun away from him. They wrestled back and forth for possession of the gun for a couple of minutes, until a soft click sounded in the courtroom. The bailiff looked down in surprise when he noticed that the barrel of the gun was pointed at him. Upon closer inspection, he, along with everyone else in the courtroom, noticed that it was his finger on the trigger, and it had only moved a fraction of an inch before it fired. Lorraine let go of the gun, and extended her hand to give the bailiff a handshake. Thanking him, she turned back to face the judge.


"As you can see, all the gun needed was for the trigger to be pulled ever so slightly before it fired. If we went off of the testimony, and blatant evidence, we can see that it was practically impossible for the defendant Marshal Weaver, to have killed his parents. I ask the jury to take this blatant evidence into account when they deliberate." She moved back over to her seat, and sat down next to me.


She placed her hand over mine, and gave me a small nod; as if to signify that everything was going to be fine. We both looked forward again as the judge began to speak.


"Well, that was… rather interesting. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a demonstration executed quite like that." He said with a chuckle. "We will have a ten minute recess while the jury decides the outcome." With that, he banged his gavel.


My stomach really began to feel uneasy. This was it, there was no more arguing. No more stating, or trying to persuade anyone, that I was innocent. My fate was left in the hands of a bunch of random strangers.

While other people decided to get up and move around, I stayed in my seat with my head on the desk. I know that Lorraine spoke a few words of comfort to me, but I was too busy fight the nausea in my stomach, and the bile that had risen in my throat. I lifted my head as I heard people begin to shuffle back inside of the courtroom.


"Has a verdict been decided?" The judge asked as he took his seat. An older woman stood up from her seat. She dusted off her skirt, and made a show of clearing her throat. I clenched my fist in frustration. Didn’t she know that my entire future would be determined by her words? Yet she stood there, biding her time, before deciding to speak.


"We find the defendant, Marshal Weaver, not guilty of first degree murder." She said. I felt my heart soar. "However, we do charge him with constructive manslaughter, and possession of a gun without a license." At that point, my heart plummeted. The woman sat back down on her seat, crossing her legs.

"In that case." The judge piped up, drawing our attention back to him. "I find no reason to declare a death sentence. Mr. Weaver, you are hereby ordered to complete six hundred hours of community service, within the time span of 5 months. If you fail to complete the allotted amount of hours, you will be charged. Case dismissed."


The bang of the gavel rang in my ears as I sat there in shock. I wasn’t going to prison? Granted, I wasn’t let off completely scot free, but compared to what could have happened, being sentenced to 600 hours of community service was practically nothing. But maybe, just maybe, it would make up for all of the wrong I had done.


We barely got through the front door of that house, that Evalynn, Constance, Mary Ann, and Lorraine scurried off into the kitchen. They began to talk in whispers, and kicked me out when I finally let my curiosity get the better of me. I sat down on the couch, deciding to wait and see if they would tell me what they were talking about.


About fifteen minutes later, they came out of the kitchen. They each sat down close to me, and tried to look as if nothing had happened. They weren’t doing a good job though, and their face looked like they wanted to blurt out a big secret.

"What is it?" I asked. Evalynn cleared her throat and began to speak.


"Actually," I interrupted, "could you just call me Conrad? I’ve gotten so used to it that being called Marshal just feels wrong."


"Of course." She said with a smile. "Conrad, you’ve been living with us for a while now, and since you don’t have any parents, and your not in hiding or anything, we were wondering if you would be okay with us adopting you."

I couldn’t fight the smile that wanted to appear on my face, nor could I fight the tears that began to form in my eyes.


"I’d really like that." The final word had barely left my lips, when all three of the sisters came over, and gathered me into a big hug. I let the tears fall down my face. I officially would have a family again.

PicMonkey Collage

My life became really busy after that day. From helping research what they would need to do to adopt me and change my name from Marshal to Conrad, to studying to get my GED. I had tried to convince them that it was a waste of time. In my mind, it wasn’t as if I was going to get a good paying job that would require having my GED, nor was I really planning on going to college. However, they told me that they weren’t going to let me limit myself in that way. I really didn’t care, but they seemed to believe in me even though I didn’t really believe in myself, and I didn’t want to disappoint them.


The community service was another thing that took up a lot of my time. I was charged with the job of helping a nonprofit organization called Open Rivers that would feed, and give clothes to the homeless. I tried helping out in the kitchen, but once they realized that the only thing I was good at was making toast, they quickly banned me from the kitchen. Instead, I helped gather donations, and would give clothes to people who needed it.


I probably took it a bit too far though. As opposed to just handing out clothes, I found myself purposely putting together outfits, or mixing and matching different clothes that I though looked nice together. I figured that the homeless didn’t care, but I couldn’t help myself.


It wasn’t until an older, homeless lady told me that I should get into fashion that I even thought about the possibility of making it a career.


The very thought that it was possible that I could end up doing something that I loved excited me. I would end up staying up late, just making sketches of possible clothing pairs, and even creating some clothes of my own. I realized that in order to get into fashion, you’d probably have to get into a good college. In order to get to college, you’d at least have to have a high school diploma, or a GED. So, I threw myself into my studies even more than before.

I didn’t tell anyone why I was studying harder, or even that I wanted to be a stylist. Not even the Lees. I guess knowing that I was never lived up to my father’s ideals of manliness affected me more than I had thought. I had been judged and criticized for sixteen years of my life, that I didn’t want to receive any more criticism. Especially from the women who cared about me so much, and who I cared for just as much.


The day that I finally did wrack up the courage to tell them, was the day that they finalized the adoption, and my name change. They were so excited as they came crashing through the door to tell me the news.

I tried being excited, because I really was happy about that, but I was too nervous about telling them, and how they might react.

It didn’t take too long for them to notice, and they ushered me to the living room to talk. I took a couple of deep breaths, and then just plunged ahead.


"So I’ve decided what I want to do with my life." I stuttered. "I… I want to… I want to be a stylist." I looked at their faces, expecting the smiles to disappear, and them be angry with me. Liking art is one thing, but being a stylist is a completely different concept. A lot of people would probably see it as a job for women, but it was something that I loved to do.


"Oh, Conrad. That’s great!" Constance said. They began bombarding me with questions about what exactly my plans were, and what school I was planning on going to. I was a bit confused, and asked why they weren’t mad at me.

"Why would we be mad at you?" Mary Ann asked me, as a confused look crossed all of their faces.

"Be-Because… Don’t most people think that job is mainly for women? Aren’t you going to tell me that I should get a job that is better suited for… a man?" They still appeared confused for a couple of seconds, until realization struck. It was almost as if a light bulb went off in their minds.


"Absolutely not!" Evalynn stated. Her sisters nodded in agreement. "You found something, actually found something that you are passionate about. I don’t care what society says. Being a stylist is not a woman’s job, in the same way that being a construction worker is not a man’s job! You do what you want, and as long as it isn’t selling your body, then hell would have to freeze over before I let somebody try to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do with your life." She said the last part a bit harshly, which kind of scared me a bit. I knew that she wasn’t angry, or yelling at me. I just had never seen her get so passionate about something. Not even in church. Mary Ann came up behind her, and put her hand on her shoulder, which brought her back down to earth. Her features softened before she continued talking.


"Conrad, I know what society says, but do they really matter? At the end of the day, they aren’t the ones who have to live with the decision you’ve made, you are. Do you really want to live your life doing something that you can’t stand? Or do you want to wake up every morning loving what you are doing? The choice is yours. Just know, that whatever you decide to do with your life, we are always gonna be here to love and support you."


She then pulled me into a tight hug. "Oh I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far from the scared, and angry young man that I met at the park." I chuckled at that, as Constance and Mary Ann surrounded me.


I worked as hard as I possibly could to get my diploma. I asked anybody that I could for help, including the people at Open Rivers. By that time, I had already fulfilled the hours that I had been sentenced, but I continued coming back as much as I could. I grew really close with some of the people, both volunteers, and the homeless people who came often.


So when I finally passed all of the tests for my GED, they celebrated with me just as much as the Lees did.

I then began to search for the best college in the country that would be affordable, and grants and scholarships that I could apply for. With the help of the Lee sisters, and the extra help of the community hours I had completed, slowly but surely, everything began to fall into place.


I received an acceptance letter for a college over in Starlight Shores shortly before my eighteenth birthday. With the grants and scholarships I had managed to get, I was able to attend a college with a two year fashion program without really owing anything. I was overjoyed that I was given the opportunity. But I was also completely terrified. I didn’t want to let anyone down, and I worried that it would all be for nothing.


As sat in the car on my way to college, I looked back at the only place that felt like home. I reflected on my time at the Lee house, when I first came to them as Marshal Weaver. As the name passed through my mind, I chuckled. That wasn’t who I was anymore. Marshal Weaver died two years ago, along with his parents. I was a new person. Someone who had a family that he could be proud of. I was Conrad Lee now, and I was ready for my adult life to begin.



"So that’s my past." I chuckled, nervously scratching the back of my neck. "That’s the big secret that I had trouble telling you." I looked at Odine’s face, her jaw slack, eyes opened slightly wider than normal, and I felt my stomach tighten. Maybe this wasn’t the right time.


"Over five years." She said. "We’ve known each other for more than five years! How come you never told me?" Despite the shock that was clearly on her face, I could see an emotion buried underneath it. She was hurt.

"I didn’t know how to tell you. This is one of the hardest things that I had ever had to do, and I wanted to do it at the right time. Granted, the hospital wasn’t exactly the perfect setting, but I had trouble working up the courage to tell you. I mean, I couldn’t bear the possibility of you not wanting to be near me after hearing this. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t entirely blame you." I paused for a second. "Plus, you were gone for months!"


"I was open with you about my past." She argued. She then winced, and placed her hand on her stomach. I reached over and placed my hand on her shoulder. She tensed up, and I let my hand drop. I looked her right in the eyes, and took a deep breath, silently begging her to do the same, so that she could calm down.

"Your past wasn’t your fault. There was no way you could have known that your boss would be a manipulative rapist."

"There was no way you could have chosen your life, nor the events that happened." she told me. "I’m sure if you could, you would choose differently." She looked down, and began to fiddle with her hands. I sighed. She was right. I should have been open with her about my life.

"I… I’m sorry. You’re right, I should have told you from the beginning. I was just worried, and I should have trusted you. Can you forgive me for not being honest with you?" Still looking at her hands, she nodded slowly. She then tried to give me a smile.

"I do forgive you. I just… I need time to process all of this. This… This is so much to take in, I need some alone time to think about everything." With those words, my heart dropped even lower, and my stomach twisted. I knew that was what she was going to need, but I had hoped that everything would be okay. With a silent nod, I stood up, kissed her on the forehead, and walked out.


I slumped down on the seat that I had been sitting on before. Resting my head in my hands again, I couldn’t help all of the questions that swirled around in my head.

Should I have waited until a better time to tell her later? Would that have even changed anything? Are we ever going to have a time of peace? Every time that we think that things are looking up, something happens that tries to crush us again.

With a sigh of defeat, I stood up and walked to the window. I looked out at the bustling city, and sighed one more time.

"What am I gonna do?"



Odine watched Conrad leave the room with his eyes downcast, and his shoulders slumped. She felt horrible for how she reacted to his story. None of what happened was his fault. It wasn’t like he was a cold-blooded killer. He wasn’t a fugitive either, his name having been cleared years ago. He was an excellent husband and father, and she couldn’t have possibly imagined a more perfect person for her and her kids. She really did love him as well.

Then why did her stomach turn when he touched her? Why did she have trouble looking him in the eye when she reassured him that everything was okay. She felt like a hypocrite, treating him like a different person, though he was the most trustworthy, and dependable person that she knew, especially with how he had reacted to the story of her past. He actually reminded her a lot of her father, who was one of the most amazing men she had ever known. She knew that she was being unfair. But she couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling that had decided to surround her. She really wanted to get over it, to be the best wife that she possibly could. She owed Conrad that much. She just wasn’t sure how long it would take for her to move on.



A/N: Thanks for reading, guys! I hope you liked it! 🙂

Leave a comment


  1. D’awww…. Conrad and Odine are adorable! I really like this chapter. Condine, is that their ship name? If not, IT IS NOW!!!

    I really liked the courtroom scene, and how much it reminded me of Pheonix Wright. Are you sure C- I mean Marshal heard Lorainne say ‘Objection!’ faintly? Lol jk jk.

    I also liked how to kinda inserted the fact of Odine’s dad’s existence. It was cute, and lets hope Condine can… you know…. I have no idea where I’m going with this… so, Ye. Lol

    • I think they are pretty adorable too. Haha, I never really had a ship name for them, but that works.
      Heh. Thanks! I wasn’t technically thinking of Phoenix Wright when I wrote that part, but it’s pretty nice to be compared to a pretty cool game.
      Oh yes, I’ve been dropping little hints here and there of different things from the beginning, like how I talked about Conrad’s aunts even from the first chapter, or how Odine’s dad being in the hospital was the reason she was in Bridgeport in the first place. I has plans!
      Thanks for reading Reyreyet! 😀

  2. I read this today and really enjoyed it. I had to keep going to the next chapter to find out what happened next. So glad that Conrad found Dee and the babies; although that was bittersweet when she didn’t exactly accept him after he opened up and told her his life story. I hope they work it out. Conrad is a good guy and she really couldn’t ask for anyone better. Waiting patiently for the next chapter to see if they work things out.

    • Heh, I was “following along” with your progress, since I would get emails and notifications of you liking posts. Aw, thanks! I’m glad that you enjoyed it.
      It was relatively bittersweet. She knows his whole ordeal isn’t his fault, she just feels betrayed because she was always open with him, and they’ve known each other for years. She’s trying to get past it… it just might take a bit. It’s kinda like one of those things where your mind knows that you should do something, but your emotions/body doesn’t want to let you. Idk if I’m explaining it right…

      Thanks for reading! Glad you’re all caught up now. 🙂

  3. I hope Odine will forgive Conrad for not opening up about his past. Sometimes talking about the past is easier for some people than others. We will never know what it is like to live in someone else’s mind so there is no way to know how they view themselves and the things they have done. I’m sure she is just hurt because she feels her confession was worse than his and he feels the other way. I know she will start to feel better soon.

    This was such an awesome chapter. I’m so glad that he didn’t have to go to jail. Such a brave Sim!

    • That is very true, despite the fact that his past wasn’t even close to being his fault, there was still a part of Conrad that blamed himself for the death of his parents.
      She mainly feels betrayed because she trusted him with everything, even when they were only friends, but he couldn’t trust her with his life story until it was sort of forced out of him.

      Thanks Tam! I’m pretty happy that I was able to figure out a way for him to not have to go to jail without coming up with something outlandish, because his generation was supposed to be WAAAAAAY different then how it turned out. But I’m definitely glad that it did.

      Thanks for reading! 🙂

  4. Okay. I liked it at the end of reading it so that you wouldn’t be waiting around for my comment. It was really weird to like it after I was done, considering I never do that XD But anyways, here is the comment that I promised you, my love. By the way, you did an amazing job!

    So, let’s see… where do I begin? First off I want to say that I still think you did an awesome job building that court room. I remember trying a couple years ago, trying to build one, and I sucked majorly at it. So that’s why I just kind of gave up and made it into an office setting instead, heh.

    Conrad obviously wasn’t at fault here. It was all an accident that everything happened. He really didn’t even deserve the community service, but, that actually lead him to the path he is on right now. See, in life, you look at the bad things and wonder why it’s happening. Why you have to go through the horrible, terrifying truths. The thing is though, if you didn’t live through your past, you’d never make it into your future. Every little thing that happens in life, is to build up for the better that is to come. So yes, his younger teen years sucked, but… he started a new, better life after that. Instead of having to live on the streets, he lived with three amazing women of God. Instead of having to deal with his father anymore, he got to meet the girl of his dreams.

    Even though his mom died too, she’s actually free from the evil that was his father. So in reality, when you think about it, she’s at peace too. Cause who says she would have ever left him? Women or men in abusive relationships tend to stay there for good or close to it. Never underestimate the things that happen to you.

    I don’t fault Odine for feeling the way that she does. First of all, she’s in the hospital recovering from what happened. Second of all, that is a LOT to take in. You’re with someone for years and you think you have them figured out to a tee, and then you get thrown with this crazy curve ball of him killing his dad on accident. How do you accept that? It’s hard to not want to look at him as a murderer. But, at the same time, it wasn’t on purpose and it wasn’t him who started it. His father was sick and twisted – he brought it onto himself. I know with time she’ll come around and feel better about everything that happened. Conrad just has to give her some time. I know everything is going to be okay.

    But yeah! So here is my beefy comment for you 😉 I told you I would give it to you. Very wonderful, although a little sad, chapter, baby! I really enjoyed reading it while eating my yogurt! 😀 Hehe.

    Love you!

    ~ Your Wife

  5. The following comment is a disjointed hodgepodge of crazy because I wrote it as I was reading and after having taken a three hour long final that I did some mega-insane 24 hour cramming for…ENJOY:

    “I felt like I should be mad at him, but I wasn’t.”

    Pfft, dang man I am! What a crappy cop. His job is to protect and he couldn’t even do anything about the obviously abusive situation RIGHT NEXT TO HIS HOUSE. If he had seen it out on the street would he have also “turned a blind eye?” Boy oh boy have I got some words for this guy, but out of respect for your request to not curse on your blog, suffice it to say that I have less than positive feelings for this so-called “man.”

    I feel for Mr. McDermott—that’s a loss that no one can truly get over. I could wax on about how that’s why common citizens shouldn’t be waving guns at people who steal livestock, but that would overlook the obviously profound pain he has regarding the loss of his son. Then again, perhaps the decision to wield guns was appropriate since apparently in this town the cops wouldn’t have done anything about it anyway!!! HAHAHA….Yeah, I should mention that I generally like cops, LOL, I just didn’t like that one XD

    That Lorraine though—her I like! She’s a smart cookie and it’s a dang good thing that Conrad had her on his side!

    On that note, you did a really great job with that court scene. It felt fairly realistic, to the point where I felt like I was in the courtroom oohing and ahhing along with everyone else as the various arguments were made. Nice!

    LOL six hundred hours of community service—well, golly. Still, better than lethal injection of course. Go Lorraine! *fist pump*

    Oh my goodness the Lee sisters are sooooo full of kindness that I have nothing but the utmost love for them. When they asked Conrad if he would be okay with them adopting him—AWWWWW. Wonderful!

    Oh Conrad, as someone who actually volunteers with the homeless, I can say that they definitely care, and that they probably also totally appreciated your efforts in helping them to look fabulous! ^_^ You rock.

    GAH the Lee sisters are again reminding me why I love them. I especially love Evalynn—YOU GO GIRL!

    Oh Odine—she certainly does seem at odds with herself. On the one hand, she trusts Conrad, and on the other she…doesn’t. I have to imagine this is because of her “manipulative rapist” boss—either he damaged her ability to be able to trust, or he made her feel somehow unworthy and undeserving of Conrad’s love and kindness. Maybe it’s even a little of both. Or MAYBE it’s the whole ‘killed someone’ thing in general…heh. Regardless, I hope she’s able to find the strength to both heal and forgive!

    Excellent chapter, man. Well worth the wait 🙂 *thumbs up*

  6. Hey glad to see you back! I thought you discontinued this legacy so I took it off my blog roll but I’d be happy to add it again. 🙂 Congrats on your wedding! This chapter was great!

  7. Well done! It’s funny that no matter how much Odine and Conrad love each other, they keep letting their own aloofness and inner-dialogues get in the way of healthy communication and building trust. It’s also nice to see the murder trial resolved, even if it was in Conrad’s past. Though I am still very curious about Nova and where she fits into the picture, not to mention Archer’s parents.


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