YEARS OF TEARS FLOW AS DIGNITY GIVES WAY TO GRIEF

AS each verdict came, two years of tears finally began to flow. Tracey Lynch was bent over, quietly sobbing. Next to her, Jason’s sister Marilyn began to break, and eventually his brother Michael. One by one their arms reached around each other, clinging tightly as quiet dignity eventually gave way to raw grief.

It had been more than two years since Jason was brutally taken from them. Two years of dignified silence. Two years comforting his orphaned children. Two years waiting for justice.

When it came, they embraced it with open arms.

They hugged each other, they hugged supporters, they hugged the prosecution team.

Over on the other side of the room, the stunned Martens family were reeling from what appeared to come as a shock result.

Sharon Martens, who was sitting a few rows back from the defence bench, was almost huddled into a ball. Her son Connor was beside her, ashen-faced and crying himself, willing her to calm down. Molly’s uncle Mike, who spoke on Tom’s behalf before he was sentenced, was shaking his head in disbelief.

The jurors, three men and nine women were crying too, watching on as the emotion of the day enveloped the loved ones in court.

Soon enough, Sheriff David Grice appeared from the wings with a set of handcuffs that he quickly placed on Molly. As she put her hands behind her back she sobbed and whimpered, looking back towards her mother.

Her father, who was cuffed minutes later, bore a look of disbelief, but still moved with an air of superiority.

He gestured to his lawyer as he was led away, briefly stopping to say something to his daughter.

The defence had requested a recess, one that would last over an hour. The prosecution was having none of it, urging Judge Lee to press ahead.

‘I would insist that both are taken into immediate custody if we recess for that length of time,’ said Assistant District Attorney Alan Martin.

In the end, Molly and Tom only got 15 minutes to gather themselves.

Soon enough, they were back before the court, listening to the heartwrenching words of Jack Corbett.

His dad’s death had been life-changing, he said in a hand-written victim impact statement.

He would never again be there to cheer him on while playing sports, he would never see him or his sister get married, he would never be there to give either of them fatherly advice.

As she listened to her stepson’s words, Molly Martens threw her head into her hands and began to cry out.

‘Molly Martens will always be remembered as the woman who killed her husband for no reason,’ wrote Jack.

‘She will be remembered as a murderer.’

There, in the voice of a ten-year-old, was the truth about Molly Martens.

She would never be a part of the Corbett family, he wrote.

She would never be forgiven for her crimes.

In the end, when Molly was finally taken out of Courtroom C, there were few tears.

SHE had worked her way through mountains of tissues and the theatrics were drawing to a close. She had opted not to take the stand in her defence, but now she had found a voice.

‘I did not murder my husband,’ she said when she was addressed by Judge Lee.

‘My father did not murder my husband… the incidents that happened on that night happened on a somewhat regular basis only this time my father was there… maybe I shouldn’t have screamed… now my children will lose both parents.’

Hushing her to be quiet, her lawyer Walter Holton described her as being in an ‘emotional state’.

‘I hope the court understands,’ he pleaded.

In the end, her empty words no longer mattered. Her fate was sealed and there was no way anyone could protect her from what lay ahead.

As Molly disappeared through a door that led to a nearby courthouse jail, Tracey Lynch took a step out of the bench where she had been sitting to watch her go.

Soon enough, the pretty blonde with the killer instinct was gone.

She would reappear a few hours later, after processing, in shackles and handcuffs, like she had always been – stony-faced and ice cold.