Chapter 4: Echoes of a Fallen Star: Shinichi's Sentence

Thompson's unexpected visit to Shinichi's cell filled the confined space with tension. Their eyes met in a silent standoff.

"What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be allowed in," Shinichi questioned, puzzled.

Thompson smirked. "Relax, Jimmy. I have friends in high places."

"Friends?" Shinichi echoed, incredulous.

"Yeah, sorry, I forgot to mention I was a lawyer before becoming a principal. I've got connections in the courts, the prison, even with judges and officers," Thompson explained casually.

A cold fury ignited within Shinichi. "Your curiosity got you into this mess," Thompson sneered. "You had a perfect life, wealthy parents, yet you had to dig for trouble."

"You and Lee should be in my place," Shinichi retorted. "You're the drug dealers!"

Thompson feigned surprise. "Is that so? Evidence, please."

Shinichi's rage intensified. "My phone has everything. You have it!"

A smug grin spread across Thompson's face. "Your phone? Oh, that. It was found in the lost and found. The janitor accidentally broke it into pieces. I had him dispose of it."

A chilling coldness crept into Thompson's voice as he continued, "Remember I told you I was a lawyer? Well, if what I've read is accurate, you're looking at twenty to thirty years. I hope you learn your lesson."

With a cruel laugh, Thompson turned and left, leaving Shinichi shattered. His last hope, the phone, was gone. The realization of a potential thirty-year sentence sent a shockwave through him.

Yusaku Kudo sat at the head of the conference table, his demeanor a mask of strained composure. Surrounding him were Japan's top legal experts, each face etched with concern as they prepared to dissect the case against his son, Shinichi.

One of the senior lawyers cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Mr. Kudo, we need to address the most significant piece of evidence: the two-million-dollar transfer."

He slid a bank statement across the table to Yusaku. The statement detailed a substantial transfer of funds into Shinichi's account, dated two days after the incident that led to his arrest. Yusaku's eyes scanned the document, his heart sinking with each number he read.

"This transfer," the lawyer continued, "was made from an offshore account. The timing is highly suspicious, as it coincides closely with the period when the drug trafficking allegations were gaining traction."

Yusaku looked up, his face a mix of disbelief and anger. "Two days after? That's when Shinichi was already under investigation?"

"Exactly," the lawyer confirmed. "The prosecution argues that this transfer was a bribe or payment for Shinichi's alleged involvement in the drug trade. They claim it ties him directly to the criminal operation."

Yusaku slammed his hand on the table, frustration evident in his voice. "This doesn't make sense! Shinichi was trying to gather evidence against the real culprits. He would never take such a bribe."

Another lawyer nodded sympathetically. "We understand your position, but the prosecution's case hinges on this transfer as a key piece of evidence. They argue it's financial proof of Shinichi's involvement, aligning with other evidence they have presented."

Yusaku's face hardened as he thought through the implications. "Have we traced the origin of this money? Is there any way to uncover who sent it and why?"

"We've tried," the senior lawyer said, his voice filled with resignation. "The account is well shielded. It's a complex network of shell companies and anonymous entities, making it nearly impossible to identify the source. The transaction was designed to leave no trace back to the real orchestrators."

Yusaku's frustration deepened. "And what about the phone? Shinichi claimed he had crucial evidence on it—recordings that could prove his innocence."

The lawyer's expression turned grim. "The phone was destroyed. The principal's office confirmed it was found in the lost and found, shattered beyond repair. Without that evidence, our options are severely limited."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the situation settling over everyone. Yusaku's eyes bore into the lawyers, searching for any glimmer of hope. "What about the witnesses? The students who saw Shinichi at the scene?"

"They've all provided consistent testimonies," another lawyer said, his tone laced with defeat. "Whether they were pressured or manipulated, their statements align perfectly with the prosecution's narrative. It's a strong, unified front against us."

Yusaku slammed his fist on the table, the sound echoing through the room. "So, we're left with nothing but a fabricated story and manipulated evidence?"

The senior lawyer nodded solemnly. "The case is incredibly tight. The prosecution has presented a seemingly irrefutable case. The best we can hope for is to reduce the sentence by demonstrating some mitigating circumstances, but even that will be a considerable challenge."

Yusaku's shoulders slumped, the weight of his son's predicament pressing down on him. The idea of Shinichi spending twenty-five years in prison for a crime he didn't commit felt like a crushing blow. He turned to the lawyers, his voice heavy with defeat. "Is there really no way to turn this around?"

The senior lawyer's gaze was sympathetic yet resigned. "Unless we find a breakthrough—something to disprove the transfer's legitimacy or expose a flaw in the prosecution's case—our options are extremely limited. The evidence against Shinichi is substantial and meticulously arranged."

Yusaku stared at the bank statement, the numbers blurring as his vision grew misty with despair. "So, we're fighting against a nearly flawless setup?"

"Unfortunately, yes," the lawyer confirmed. "The odds are not in our favor, but we will continue to explore every possible avenue. It's a long shot, but we owe it to Shinichi to keep fighting."

Yusaku nodded, a mix of resignation and determination in his eyes. The battle to clear his son's name was far from over, but the road ahead was fraught with formidable challenges. As he looked around the room at the grim faces of his legal team, he knew that this fight would demand every ounce of his strength and resolve.

The day of the verdict arrived, a stark and unforgiving moment in the Kudo family's history. Yukiko and Yusaku, bracing themselves for the outcome, were about to leave their mansion when the doorbell rang. Kogoro Mori and Ran stood at the entrance.

"We won't take long," Kogoro said. "Ran wanted to come by."

Ran added with conviction, "Shinichi couldn't be a drug dealer. I know him."

Kogoro turned to Yusaku. "Mr. Yusaku, we may not be friends, but I believe something is seriously wrong with this case."

Yusaku managed a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mr. Mori. Your support means a lot."

After Kogoro and Ran departed, Yusaku and Yukiko made their way to the courthouse, their hearts heavy with foreboding.

The courtroom was a pressure cooker of anticipation, packed with reporters eager for the final chapter of this sensational case. Shinichi sat at the defendant's table, a shadow of his former self. Beside him, Yusaku gripped the arms of his chair, his knuckles white with tension.

As the judge's voice rang out, clear and final, a hush fell over the courtroom. "Guilty." The word hung in the air, a death knell to hope. The judge's subsequent decree, "Twenty-five years in prison," was a sentence that reverberated through the room, sealing Shinichi's fate. Despair, cold and absolute, washed over Shinichi, extinguishing the vibrant boy he once was and replacing him with a prisoner of fate.

Yukiko, usually the steadfast pillar of strength, now appeared a shattered reflection of her former self. The verdict had pulverized her world, leaving her in a desolate expanse of loss. Yet, amidst her anguish, a stubborn ember of hope refused to die. She vowed to fight relentlessly, promising herself to uncover the truth no matter how deep it was buried.

As Shinichi was led away, his eyes met Yusaku's. The look of disappointment and shame in his father's eyes felt like a dagger to Shinichi's heart. Yusaku remained rooted to his seat, a solitary figure in the now-empty courtroom. His gaze was fixed on the vacant spot where his son had endured the crushing verdict, the weight of the world seeming to press down on him, threatening to crush his spirit.

Yusaku requested a final visit with Shinichi before his transfer to the city prison. The court granted the request, but only Yusaku was allowed in.

Yusaku formally requested a visit with Shinichi before his transfer to the city prison. The request was granted, but only Yusaku was allowed to visit. The prison visiting room was a stark, sterile place, a fitting backdrop for the heartbreak that was about to unfold.

Shinichi sat at the table, his shoulders slumped, his hands cuffed in front of him. The weight of the recent verdict was evident in every aspect of his posture. When Yusaku entered, Shinichi looked up, and for a brief moment, their eyes met—father and son, once inseparable, now divided by a chasm of pain and disappointment.

Yusaku took a seat across from Shinichi, his face a mask of sorrow and anger. The silence between them was suffocating, a void filled with unspoken words and shattered dreams. Finally, Yusaku broke the silence, his voice rough and weary.

"Shinichi," he began, the name heavy on his tongue, "I don't even know what to say." He paused, searching for the right words in a situation where none seemed adequate. "How could this happen? How could you do this to yourself… to us?"

Shinichi's heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to scream, to plead his innocence, but the words caught in his throat. He knew that the evidence had painted him as guilty, and his father's disbelief was an added blow, one he hadn't been prepared for. "Dad, I swear, I didn't do it. Someone framed me."

Yusaku's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "Enough, Shinichi. These words… they're meaningless now. Do you think I haven't tried to believe you? I've spent every waking moment since your arrest trying to find a way to prove your innocence, trying to find that phone you said had evidence. But it's gone, just like every shred of hope I had."

Shinichi's voice trembled as he reached out, desperation clawing at him. "Dad, you have to believe me! I was collecting evidence against Thompson and Lee. I thought I could bring them down, but they set me up."

Yusaku's voice grew colder, each word like a knife cutting into Shinichi's already fragile heart. "And where did that leave us, Shinichi? Where did that leave your mother, who's barely holding it together? Where did that leave me, who had to hear about my son's arrest on the news, thousands of miles away in LA? You didn't tell me anything. You didn't trust me enough to confide in me."

Shinichi flinched at the words, the truth in them undeniable. He had acted on his own, driven by his need to uncover the truth, never considering the consequences or the people he would hurt along the way. "I'm sorry, Dad. I thought I could handle it…"

Yusaku's hands clenched into fists on the table, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow. "Handle it? Shinichi, you're just a boy! You got yourself tangled in something so far beyond your control, and now look where you are! Twenty-five years, Shinichi. That's your future now, all because you couldn't trust anyone else to help you."

Shinichi felt tears sting his eyes, but he blinked them back, trying to maintain some semblance of control. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I just wanted to do the right thing."

"The right thing?" Yusaku's voice cracked, betraying the depth of his emotions. "The right thing would have been to come to me, to come to the police, to anyone who could have helped you before it got this far. But you didn't, and now we're all paying the price."

Yusaku's eyes, once filled with pride for his son, now reflected a deep, unyielding disappointment. "I tried everything, Shinichi. I hired the best lawyers, pulled every string I could, but it wasn't enough. They all said the same thing—that the evidence was airtight, that you were doomed from the start. And now… now I have to live with the fact that I failed you."

Shinichi's heart broke at his father's words, the guilt overwhelming him. He had never seen his father so defeated, so utterly broken. "Dad… please. I know I messed up. But you're all I have left. I can't do this without you."

Yusaku looked at his son, his expression softening slightly, but the pain remained. "I don't know if I can do this, Shinichi. I don't know if I can keep watching you waste away in prison for something I couldn't stop. I trusted you… I believed in you, and you destroyed that trust."

The silence that followed was heavy, both men lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Yusaku spoke again, his voice low and filled with sorrow. "The lawyers have been advising me… to distance myself, to protect what's left of our family's reputation. They say… they say I should consider disowning you."

Shinichi's breath caught in his throat, the very idea of being cast out by his own father more terrifying than the prospect of prison. "Are you going to disown me?" His voice was small, almost childlike, the fear palpable.

Yusaku hesitated, his heart torn. "I don't know, Shinichi. I wish I had an answer. But right now… I'm not thinking clearly. I'm so hurt, so angry, I don't know what to do."

Shinichi's shoulders slumped, the weight of his actions crushing him. "I'm sorry, Dad," he whispered, the words choking in his throat. "I'm so sorry… for everything."

Yusaku stared at his son, the boy he had raised, the boy who had once been his pride and joy. "I wish I could forgive you, Shinichi," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "But I don't know if I can."

With that, Yusaku stood, his movements slow and weary. He looked at Shinichi one last time, his eyes filled with a sorrow that words could never fully capture. "I wish this were all just a nightmare," he said softly. "But it's not. And now… we all have to live with it."

Without another word, Yusaku turned and walked away, leaving Shinichi alone in the cold, sterile room. The door closed behind him with a final, echoing click, and Shinichi was left to face the crushing reality of his situation. The father he had always looked up to, the man who had always believed in him, was now a distant figure, leaving him to navigate the dark path ahead on his own.

As the echoes of his father's footsteps faded, Shinichi bowed his head, tears finally spilling over. He was truly alone—lost in a world of his own making, with no one left to save him.