A lot of people were in the courtroom. There were rows of reporters, curious onlookers, and those who just wanted to watch Ethan Brixley’s collapse. He was a young tech billionaire accused of a heinous crime. Ethan was only 26 when he built an app that helped thousands of people find safe jobs during the pandemic. Forbes called him a “billionaire for the people.” But now he was in handcuffs and facing charges of attempted murder, conspiracy, and aggravated assault.
When defense attorney Monroe Green stepped up, closed his briefcase, and remarked in a cold voice, “I am withdrawing from representation, Your Honor,” the room was very tense. From now on. People in the courtroom were shocked. Ethan’s chair was suddenly empty. The judge banged the gavel because the noise made him mad.
Amara Johnson, an 8-year-old girl, was there, which was a surprise. She wore clothes that someone else had lent her and had beads in her hair. No one had seen her before, but now she was sitting there and starring at Ethan. A small, clear voice from the gallery said, “I can defend him,” when the courtroom was quiet.
The room stopped moving. Judge Reiner leaned forward, unsure of what to think. He said, “Excuse me?”
Amara stood up, her voice shaky but firm. “I said I could keep him safe.”
Some people laughed, but the judge commanded them to stop. “What’s your name, young lady?”
She said, “Amara Johnson.”
“And how old are you?”
“Eight,” she said right away. Then she said, “I know I’m not a real lawyer, but I’ve read about this case and I know he didn’t do it.”
The judge looked at her with both interest and regret. “And how do you know that?”
Amara said in a quiet voice, “Because he saved my brother’s life two years ago.”
Ethan turned his chair cautiously and looked her in the eye. He remembered Amara, but not saving anyone. The court’s attention turned all of a sudden. The reporters straightened up and put their phones away. Amara gripped on to the bench tightly and spoke with confidence.
“I saw the videos.” I read everything. People say he was in that warehouse, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t have been.
The prosecutor remarked, “Your Honor, your client is a minor.”
The judge said, “Let her talk.”
Amara stood up from her chair and walked to the front. Even though the air was heavy, her voice was serene. “My brother Malik admired Ethan. Ethan paid for the mentorship program that he was in. We didn’t have a lot of extras, like Wi-Fi or extra resources, but Ethan gave every child in our building an iPad and internet access. He was going to college because of Malik. But he died last year.
A huge curtain of quiet fell.
“I want to speak for Ethan because no one else will,” Amara said. “And if that isn’t allowed, maybe this court doesn’t care about the truth.”
The judge leaned back, and it was hard to tell what he was thinking. Ethan stopped and looked at the girl who had just stood up for him. The bailiff didn’t know what to do, and the cameras kept rolling. In barely three minutes, the trial that everyone thought they knew what would happen altered completely.
Amara was allowed to stay in the courtroom and sit at the front. The live feed of the moment—a tiny kid going to court to defend a billionaire—went viral online. It was a great way to get them to click.
Ethan was tied and sat still, looking at Amara as if she were a light in the dark. He wanted to thank her, but he didn’t know how. She didn’t know him well.
The judge called off the hearing. He said, “Get this child’s parent or guardian before I break a dozen laws,” half-joking but serious.
Outside the courthouse, things got out of hand. Reporters rushed around anyone who might know the girl. An officer of the court took Amara to a waiting area, and she kept her head down.
“My grandma” was her answer when asked who her guardian was. The cops called, but no one answered. Grandma Joyce was tired and ready for bed.
Two hours previously, Amara’s day had started out like any other. Her grandma was laying on the couch with oxygen tubes, and the smell of fried chicken filled her small apartment. Amara had to go to school, but she didn’t want to. It was a momentous day today.
She pulled on her old denim jacket, picked up her old backpack, and carried a spiral notebook full of articles about Ethan Brixley. She had been reading about him in the library for weeks, not because she had to, but because she wanted to.
Others saw a rich man in trouble, but Amara saw the guy who had changed her brother Malik’s life. Malik was 17 when he signed up for Ethan’s coding program as a mentor. It gave him hope, a laptop, and a way to leave their bad neighborhood in East St. Louis. Malik was dead, though; he was shot and killed before he could finish the program.
Ethan didn’t think Amara was to fault for Malik’s death. She thought he was the only person who cared about kids like her brother. Everyone wanted Ethan to go to jail for a crime she knew he didn’t commit.
Amara never told anyone how she knew. But she actually believed in Ethan more than anyone else did.
But she didn’t go to school. Instead, she went to the courthouse and sat in the gallery for hours. When Ethan’s lawyer left him, Amara’s heart sank. If no one else would, she would fight for him.
Reporters tried to talk to the little child in the hallway of the courtroom, but Grandma Joyce stepped in to protect Amara from the noise.
That night, Amara sat quietly while her grandmother strolled around. The news played her speech in court over and over again. Joyce wanted to know why it was so crucial.
“Because he loved us and Malik.” “Nobody else did,” Amara said softly.
Joyce sighed. “You think that helping this man will bring Malik back?”
“No,” Amara answered in a hushed voice. “But maybe that means he didn’t die for no reason.”
Ethan was in a detention cell on the other side of town, thinking about what Amara had said. He believed a lie that someone told him. But who?
A guard suddenly said that someone was coming. When Ethan saw Trevor Maddox, his old best friend and business partner who had lied to him, his heart sank.
Trevor admitted to setting up Ethan by using cloned SIM cards and rental cars to make it look like he was near to the crime scene. He intended to get back at Ethan for firing him from their business.
Ethan was sad, but he was also determined. Trevor’s betrayal was the most essential item that showed he was innocent.
The court was filled again the next day. People on both sides were yelling. Ethan didn’t even notice the cameras anymore because he was too busy looking at Amara, who gave him a little nod of encouragement.
The prosecutor wanted to end the case, but Amara stood up again. She asked for one more chance to converse.
The judge advised her to wait 30 seconds.
Amara displayed an email from Linkbridge’s public folder that included Trevor Maddox’s name as a co-founder and talked about recent talks with the victim’s lawyers. She added that Trevor had gotten a plane ticket to St. Louis on the day of the attack.
The people in the courtroom gasped.
The judge called a recess to look at the new proof.
The judge stated he was worried about the case’s integrity when court started up again and directed Ethan to be freed on bond straight now. He also wanted an official probe against Trevor Maddox.
People in the courtroom cheered. They took the cuffs off of Ethan. He walked over to Amara, crouched down, and whispered, “You saved me.”
Amara grinned. “No, you saved Malik.” I just finished the job.
Their laughing was filled with optimism and relief.
Trevor Maddox was arrested the next week. There was proof that linked him to both the planning and the attack. Linkbridge’s stock price shot up overnight, and the news altered.
But Ethan wasn’t worried about money or fame anymore. The important thing was sitting at a small kitchen table in East St. Louis and eating fried chicken with Amara and her grandma.
Ethan said, “One day, you’d make a great lawyer.”
Amara grinned. “Really?”
“I know that.”
“Then you better not get into trouble, Mr. Brixley, or I’ll charge you again.”
They laughed again, the kind of laugh that makes you feel like you just came up for air after being underwater.
This narrative was about more than simply a rich person and a young person. It was about being loyal, speaking out when no one else will, and having faith in someone when everyone else tells you not to.
This is what you need to take away from this story:
Never think that your voice isn’t strong enough. A voice, no matter how small, can be loud enough to change someone’s life.
Would you ever respond, “I can help him,” if you saw someone about to lose everything because no one believes them?
Sometimes, that’s all it takes to tell the truth.
