It took only moments for Leah to plead not guilty to the charge of break and enter with intent. “Ms. Roberts, as soon as you are medically discharged from this hospital you will be remanded to a correctional facility to await your bail hearing in two weeks hence,” Judge Fitzgerald ordered. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

Five feet away, her mother and father watched the proceedings, mute, their pain palpable.

The judge closed his file folder, and the clerk turned off the Dictaphone. The proceeding was over. Judge Fitzgerald nodded to Hillcroft and Kate. “Good day, Counsel.”

As soon as he left, Tim Roberts stepped toward the Crown prosecutor. “Mr. Hillcroft, we would like to express our deepest sympathies to Mr. Owen for the loss of his wife. Could you please let him know?”

Hillcroft surveyed Leah’s parents. “I will convey your sympathies. But Mr. Owen may not be receptive to them. He believes your daughter killed his wife.”

Susan Roberts gasped. Tim Roberts turned ashen. “But she didn’t…Leah’s not violent.”

“It was my understanding that Mrs. Owen was in a palliative stage of cancer,” Kate interjected, throwing Hillcroft a glare. “I believe Mr. Owen’s accusation is misplaced. And certainly does not merit criminal charges,” she added.

“I agree that there are no legal grounds for his assertion, but Mr. Owen believes that fear stopped his wife’s heart, Ms. Lange.” Hillcroft’s voice was steady. “She was in a fragile state.”

Susan Roberts turned away and hunched over, her hands to her face.

“We are so sorry.” Tim Roberts’ voice was rough with anguish. “Leah would never have done this intentionally.”

“Mr. Roberts, the facts speak for themselves.” Hillcroft placed the file folder of R. vs. Roberts in his briefcase.

Leah shifted in the bed, trying to push herself up on her elbow. “I’m so sor—” She abruptly cried out in pain.

The machines hooked up to her echoed her cry, erupting in a frantic cascade of alarms. A nurse rushed in. She checked the monitor and frowned. “You all need to leave.”

Leah’s parents rushed over to their broken daughter. She had turned convulsively to her side, her hand curled up into her chest. A baby chick in utero.

A surgical resident hurried to Leah’s side, reaching for her wrist as he checked her pulse. “Let’s get some blood work done,” he said to the nurse. Then he glanced at Kate and the Roberts. “Everyone must leave the room. We need to check her dressing.”

Tim Roberts gently pushed his wife toward the door. Susan Roberts left Leah’s bedside, staring over her shoulder at her daughter’s bedside all the while, tears streaming down her face. “It will be okay, Leah,” she whispered.

It will be okay. Kate realized that the reassurance relied on two key elements: that the doctors save Leah’s life—and that the saved life was defended competently in court.