The judge leaned back in his chair, eyes moving slowly between the two tables.
"I have reviewed the footage, the physical evidence, and the arguments presented," the judge said evenly. "The prosecution has failed to establish probable cause sufficient to sustain these charges."
He glanced down at the file once more.
"The video does not identify the defendant," he continued. "The clothing recovered is circumstantial and unsupported by forensic evidence. No fingerprints, no DNA, no biological material connects Mr. Corvin to the crime."
A pause.
"Under the law, suspicion is not proof."
The judge looked directly at Ethan.
"This court finds that the evidence is insufficient to proceed. The charges against the defendant are dismissed, effective immediately."
The gavel came down once.
"Mr. Corvin is free to go."
The judge paused, then continued, his tone firm.
"This court further orders the sheriff's department to continue its investigation and identify the individual truly responsible for this crime," he said. "Justice is not served by convenient arrests."
He glanced briefly toward the prosecution's table.
"I also expect that future actions taken by law enforcement will be conducted responsibly," the judge added, "without unnecessarily aggravating tensions between the outcast community and the public."
The gavel struck once more.
"Court is adjourned."
Ethan smiled at the judgment, the expression small but unmistakable.
The handcuffs were removed, metal clicking softly as they fell away. He flexed his wrists once, casual, while Sheriff Galpin stood nearby, his posture rigid, discomfort written plainly across his face.
"You may have escaped today," Galpin said, voice low and tight, "but I will find the evidence. And when I do, I'll put you back behind bars."
"Ummm, no," Henry said calmly, stepping in before Ethan could respond.
Galpin turned toward him, irritation flashing.
Henry didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"Anyone with a functioning brain can see this was a framing," he said evenly. "And if you continue pursuing my client without evidence, you won't just lose another case—you'll invite scrutiny into your department."
Ethan glanced between them, mildly amused.
"I'll be around, Sheriff," he said casually. "Try not to disappoint the court again."
Galpin's stare followed him as Ethan turned and walked away.
As they walked out of the courthouse, the tension finally easing, Henry shook his head.
"Ethan, I don't understand you," he said. "You spent two days in a cell. Why didn't you call me the moment you were arrested? I could've challenged that warrant immediately."
"Nah," Ethan replied casually. "I was enjoying myself. Didn't feel the need."
Henry stopped walking and stared at him.
"…Enjoying yourself."
"Yes."
Henry sighed, rubbing his temples. "I will never understand what you find entertaining about incarceration."
He straightened his jacket and exhaled. "Alright. My job here is done."
He extended a hand briefly. "If you need me again, call. Preferably before you decide jail time is a vacation."
Ethan shook his hand once. "I'll keep that in mind."
Henry walked off toward his car, still muttering under his breath.
As Henry walked off toward the parking lot, Ethan watched him go—then paused.
He checked his prison uniform pockets.
Empty.
No wallet. No cash. Nothing he could use to get back to Jericho.
"…Huh," he muttered.
Across the lot, Sheriff Galpin was climbing into his car. Ethan sighed and headed over, timing it just right. He rapped his knuckles lightly against the driver's window.
Galpin stopped, clearly irritated, and lowered the window just enough to glare at him.
"What?" the sheriff asked.
"Nothing dramatic," Ethan said easily. "My clothes should still be in your office. And I don't exactly have a ride back to Jericho."
He tilted his head slightly. "You wouldn't mind giving me a lift, would you?"
Galpin stared at him, disbelief flashing across his face.
"You've got nerve," he said.
"I've been told," Ethan replied. "But I'm also unarmed, recently acquitted, and currently stranded."
A long, uncomfortable silence followed.
Galpin exhaled sharply through his nose. "Get in."
Ethan smiled faintly. "Knew you were reasonable."
As he opened the passenger door and slid inside, Galpin muttered, "This doesn't mean I trust you."
Ethan leaned back in the seat. "Good," he said. "I'd be offended if you did."
The car pulled out of the lot, heading back toward Jericho—two people inside it, neither convinced the story was over.
The car rolled forward in tense silence for a few minutes.
Ethan broke it casually.
"So, Sheriff," he said, looking out the window, "any updates on the serial killings? The ones done by the monster."
"Isn't that one of your fellow students?" he replied, eyes fixed on the road.
"No," Ethan said calmly. "But I do know what it is. A monster called Hyde."
The sheriff's grip on the steering wheel stiffened.
"Do you know anything about Hydes, Sheriff Galpin?" Ethan asked.
The car screeched to a sudden stop.
Tires shrieked against asphalt as Galpin slammed the brakes, the force jerking Ethan forward slightly in his seat. The engine idled loudly in the silence that followed.
Galpin turned slowly, his face hard, eyes sharp with something that wasn't just anger.
*****
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