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According to the report, the photograph was still smoking in his hands when the bailiffs reached him. Connor Ashford had ripped it from the evidence table mid-sentence, while the prosecutor was still describing how he had executed his father with three shots to the chest, and before anyone could process what was happening, he had produced a lighter—smuggled in where, hidden how, nobody would ever determine and set the photograph ablaze.
The report also said that it was his father's official portrait. Chief Daniel Ashford, in full dress uniform, twenty-three years of service represented in medals and ribbons, the man who had commanded the respect of an entire department, was reduced to ash in his son's hands.
The criminal son shouted to the juror: "THIS IS WHAT I THINK OF HIM!" Connor screamed, holding the burning photograph above his head like a torch, like a trophy, like proof of something only he understood. "THIS IS WHAT HE DESERVES!"The flames licked at his fingers. He didn't flinch. His mother was screaming from the gallery. The jury was frozen in horror. And Connor Ashford, sixteen years old, was laughing, laughing with the pure, unhinged joy of someone who had finally shown the world exactly who he was.
That criminal son might have been taking an illegal drug. What a pitiful father killed by his ruthless son. He should be executed on the spot.
The report also said that it was his father's official portrait. Chief Daniel Ashford, in full dress uniform, twenty-three years of service represented in medals and ribbons, the man who had commanded the respect of an entire department, was reduced to ash in his son's hands.
The criminal son shouted to the juror: "THIS IS WHAT I THINK OF HIM!" Connor screamed, holding the burning photograph above his head like a torch, like a trophy, like proof of something only he understood. "THIS IS WHAT HE DESERVES!"The flames licked at his fingers. He didn't flinch. His mother was screaming from the gallery. The jury was frozen in horror. And Connor Ashford, sixteen years old, was laughing, laughing with the pure, unhinged joy of someone who had finally shown the world exactly who he was.
That criminal son might have been taking an illegal drug. What a pitiful father killed by his ruthless son. He should be executed on the spot.
