"No," he said slowly. "I have waited twenty years for this moment, and you are the one who should be regretting."
The air thickened beneath the old wooden porch. Sheets of evidence lay scattered across the table, while the desert wind lifted a few pages into the air, sending them twirling before they fell to the cracked earth.
Malcolm Whitlock tried to stand, but his legs trembled beneath him. His face flushed red from the heat and from the effects of the herb. "This is a filthy trick!" he shouted, voice hoarse. "All of you, you are nothing but traitors!"
Harrison Jr. also jumped to his feet, but fear quickly strangled whatever confidence he had left. Under the sheriff's razor-sharp gaze, he began to stammer: "We... we were just following the contract! I only wrote what he told me to!"
Ayana stepped forward, placing her strong hand firmly on the last file. Her voice rang out clear, sharp, and unwavering: "Eighteen families lost their land because of you. Eighteen homes erased, and children forced to sleep outside in the middle of winter. You think that is just a number to me? Every name in this file is flesh and blood."
Sheriff Carter spoke next, his voice low and firm: "Malcolm Whitlock, Harrison Jr., you are under arrest for fraud, forgery, and unlawful seizure of property. The evidence is right here, and so are the witnesses."
He raised the arrest warrant. The sound of it cut through the desert silence like dry thunder.
Two deputies stepped forward and quickly bound Whitlock's and Harrison's hands. Malcolm thrashed, eyes wide with panic. "I have money! I have power! No one can lock me up!"
Jonathan took a step forward, his gray eyes cold as stone. "There is one thing you will never buy, and that is the memory of those whose lives you destroyed. Today, justice remembers them."