Medal in Hand: A Stand for Justice

The next day, I walked up to the courthouse with the legal papers I had drafted overnight. At this point, I had no other choice. This lawsuit was the last hope I had left.

But as soon as I stepped inside, I came face-to-face with Harold. He was chatting and laughing with a court official.

His expression darkened the instant he saw me. Without missing a beat, he ordered the security guards at the entrance to stop me. "This old man is crazy! Don't let him through!" he yelled.

The guards immediately pinned me to the ground. No matter how much I resisted, I was powerless against them.

Harold stood over me, smug. Then, he flung the shredded remains of my papers into my face. "I told you, didn't I? The ones in charge of this courthouse are all my relatives.

"This isn't a place where you'll ever find justice. You could sue me all you like, and it still wouldn't matter. If you know what's good for you, you'd sign the statement. Otherwise, don't blame me for what happens next."

Their laughter cut straight into me, sharp and merciless. All I felt was utter humiliation and pain.

I sat alone outside the courthouse, consumed by a despair I had never known before.

Weren't courts meant to stand for fairness and justice? Why had they become a sanctuary for the powerful?

Tears streamed down my cheeks, blurring my vision.

All I wanted was justice. Why was it so impossibly hard?

As I bent forward, the medals slipped from my pocket. They clattered against the stone steps before tumbling all the way down.

I gathered them up and blankly stared at the military compound across the street.

Six years ago, the general had told me that Giselle's parents, Moses Tanner and Clara Kirk, were heroes who had fallen in the line of duty. He'd promised their child would be protected and that if trouble ever came, I should seek him out.

He even swore that no soldier's family would ever have to suffer again after their loved ones had given their lives for the country.

With that in mind, I took a deep breath before limping my way toward the military compound.

…

Under the watchful gaze of the guards, I dropped to my knees at the gates. My hands trembled as I raised the two medals high above my head.

"Sir, can you tell me if these are really Medals of Honor? Were my son and daughter-in-law truly recognized as fallen heroes of this nation?" I asked. "If they were, then why is it that no one is willing to step in when their daughter is being bullied?"

The gold medals gleamed under the sunlight, and the red enamel at their centers shone with striking brilliance.

When the guards saw the words "Medal of Honor", their expressions shifted at once. No one knew better than they did what those words meant. And now, I wasn't holding just one, but two.