Some things in life that we see reflected on TV are way over-dramaticized. And some things are not.

Maybe it was the thumping of my heart or that my emotions were vascillating at an impressive speed between anger, pain, and sorrow. But the intricate dance of legalities and formal interactions between lawyer, judge, client, and witness are just as they have appeared on TV to me. The long run-on sentences full of legalese that skidded over my head without making much impact, the dramatic silence that preceeded the defendent being sworn in, and the quiet cursing as the victims family sat and listened to a defense case built on lies.

It was an odd sensation, being numb yet raw at the same time. I made it through my moms statement with a steady voice but my voice started to quiver as I began mine. I was breathing so heavily to keep myself from sobbing that I started to hyperventilate and my hands started to fall asleep. For the last little bit of my statement, I had to sit with my head on the desk, so as to be able to see straight. While my Uncle and Aunts statements focused on their anger towards this man and what they would like to see happen to him ("rot in a jail cell by yourself, just like you did to my mother you son of a bitch") my mother and I sought out answers to questions that never cease to surface in dealing with this. As this man took the stand and responded directly to our statements it became abundantly clear that we will never really get these answers from him. Outright lying about what we have and have not done, the defense's case was built solely on the absense of my grandmothers children. Not on his innocence. Luckily for my family's sanity and the mounting guilt we already feel, the judge would not entertain this line of questioning and they were left asking about the food he used to cook my grandmother because they had prepared nothing else. I will admit to a descending sense of hopelessness as they called witness after witness that said he was such a wonderful man, never did anything wrong. This kind of surprised me as I am not sure I really blame him for much.

When he took the stand he called us all his kids and I nearly vomited. He is not my family. He never was and he never acted like he really wanted to be deep down.

We were told that his medical condition warrants a light sentence and not to expect much. So we didn't. And because the whole damn town that he lives in pities him and thinks he is just the sweetest man, we also didn't expect him to be held responsible for much.

So when the judge began his closing judgement, I was floored to hear him say "Mr. Ev*****, frankly, I don't care how present the rest of Ms. Nelsons family was, that case would take hours and it is not what we are here for. What it comes down to is that you voluntarily took responsibility to care for this woman. The pictures from the night she went into the ER alone tell me that you are guilty of this crime..."

Within the closing judgement we learned of the horror of her condition like we hadn't known before. It is the first exposure to the medical examiners report and the autopsy report that we were allowed. My grandma's toenails were close to an inch long when she died. The implications of the lack of care in this one detail, as the judge pointed out, are horrendous.

A year in jail. Five years bench probation. 200 hours of community service. Thousands of dollars in restitution. In the end, we heard him being turned over to the sheriff and taken to jail.

I am still in shock. This is bouncing around in my head making me restless and irritable.

I am not sure how to let it all out and find a little peace.