Simone remained seated.
She had not won because she possessed some secret authority.
She had testified because she had evidence.
And she had answered questions under oath.
The jury deliberated for nearly two days.
On the first afternoon, Simone sat with her mother in a quiet room near the courthouse.
Neither watched the news.
They talked about Daniel's children.
His oldest daughter had recently received a college acceptance letter.
His younger son had joined a school robotics team.
Simone's mother smiled while describing a small machine he had built to sort colored blocks.
"He says he's going to make one that folds laundry."
Simone laughed.
"Please tell him to hurry."
Her mother smiled.
Then her expression softened.
"Daniel would've loved that."
Simone looked at her.
"Yes."
They sat quietly.
Her mother reached for her hand.
"Whatever happens in there, I'm proud of you."
Simone shook her head.
"I didn't do anything extraordinary."
Her mother squeezed her fingers.
"You kept going."
Simone looked toward the window.
"I had people helping me."
"I know."
"And people who didn't have that help..."
Her mother waited.
Simone swallowed.
"That's what I keep thinking about."
The verdict could address a specific set of charges.
It could punish certain defendants.
It could establish facts.
But it could not automatically repair every injustice produced by the department's practices.
That work would continue long after the courtroom emptied.
The jury returned the next morning.
Matthews stood as the verdicts were read.
He was convicted on several counts involving the Riverside Park detention, unlawful force, and evidence-related misconduct.
He was acquitted on one charge for which the jury found the proof insufficient.
The mixed verdict reflected the jury's duty to evaluate each allegation separately.
Simone listened without moving.
Her mother began to cry.
Across the aisle, Ethan closed his eyes.
Officer Price stared at the floor.
Matthews looked forward.
His face seemed empty.
When the judge thanked the jury, Simone finally exhaled.
For months, she had imagined the moment.
She thought she would feel relief.
Instead, she felt exhausted.
The conviction mattered.
But it did not bring back the afternoon.
It did not erase the slap.