The evidence against Jeremy was already flimsy and then everyone found out his grandpa was a wealthy bank owner in New York who hired a dream team of LA attorneys who quickly had him headed to freedom unless someone came forward with some new evidence. Jameson and I were pretty much the only people who had a ball in their court to play. It appeared to pretty much be either we step forward or Jeremy went free for killing an innocent girl.
Jameson cracked. We went to the police. We didn’t say anything about snorkeling, we simply said we were on a late night walk, we saw the two arguing and we followed them around the house where we saw Jeremy strike the fatal blow through Sarah’s bedroom window. We could back our own stories and the prosecutor didn’t ask many questions. She stopped us from saying anymore once we said Jeremy threw Sarah down and she hit her head. She wanted to nail him and his legal team and we were her silver bullet. We said we had been afraid to come forward because we knew Jeremy had connections to money and expensive lawyers who would probably end up pinning us back as the suspects, but we couldn’t take it anymore.
It all broke down perfectly. The prosecutor found a way to where we could give our story directly to the jury without Jeremy, his legal team or the public finding out exactly who we were. We did it one afternoon after school and felt the weight of the world lift off of our shoulders.
Immediately after, we thought there would be nothing better than a good snorkel to take a deep breath and forget about what we had just done.
Around 11, we decided to go to the candlelit vigil which took place out in front of Sarah’s house each night since the crime went down. An initial group of at least 100 family and friends promised to stay there every night until Jeremy was brought to justice, but the group had dwindled down to about five at this point. Most left when the news vans packed up and went back down to LA.
The sight of five people, two of whom were Sarah’s parents, standing in front of the old Victorian-style house around 11 on a weekday relighting the candles which had been snuffed out by the wind and staring somberly at framed pictures of Sarah and soaked stuffed animals was a gutting sight. Jameson and I stood in the midst of them and listened to their conversations. They knew our secret testimony would do Jeremy in, but they weren’t going to rest until it officially happened.
I hate to say that I kind of felt like a hero. I felt like everything had worked out perfectly as it could. I was with Sarah, Jeremy was going to come to justice and we were going to be able to get on with our lives.
Then I heard Jameson scream my name in fright.
I hadn’t been paying attention to Jameson, laser-focused on the memorial scene. I whipped around and followed Jameson’s cries to the middle of the street where I saw her wrapped up in the arms of a familiar attacker. Jeremy.
“You think you’re the only one who snorkels dumbass. I saw your fucking paperwork in the courthouse,” Jeremy called out to me while he walked backwards with Jameson in his grasp.
Jameson let out a few more hideous screams.
“You can scream all you want bitch. You know only this pussy can hear you and he’s not going to do anything.”
Jeremy was right. I was weak. I was scared. I was a “pussy.” Every fiber in my body told me not to engage him, but I knew I had to. I didn’t know the dynamics of what happened if you got hurt, specifically hurt enough to die when you were snorkeling. But I had to do something. It was Jameson. I took off into the street after Jeremy.