SHE found him one week later after her funeral, at the Magistrate’s Court, knowing he would be there after hearing mourners speak with disgust at the charges he had gotten. She stood there and watched in disbelief as he walked free of the charges that had nothing to do with death by dangerous driving.
“So much for justice,” she expressed, deeply disappointed.

He had a carefree smile on his face as he chatted with two detectives who had exited the court with him.
“Possibly his friends,” she said, dejected, feeling as though everything was lost, “If only he can see me, see my bloody and torn skin and clothes.”
An image she wanted to haunt his thoughts so he would not have peace of mind.

“A sort of revenge,” she said, anger rising within her, “But how can I make that happen?”
The man turned and walked with confident strides to his car, right where she was standing and suddenly he froze, a flash of fear on his face. He stepped back a little, turned around and asked his detective friends,
“You see that?”
“See what?” they asked, puzzled.

“Is he seeing me?” Sandhya asked with a surge of hope.
She stepped away from his car to see if his eyes would follow her and he did.
“Yes!” she exulted, “It happened, now the drama starts.”
The man walked cautiously to his car and his friends asked, concerned,
“Are you okay, man?”
He made to say something, then decided against it and drove away.

She followed him in his car in her spiritual form, knowing she could allow her haunting image to be seen at the right time.
He stopped by a beer garden and was joined a short while later by his two detective friends. He pushed two sealed envelopes across the table to them and ordered a round of beers.
She watched them as they celebrated with another few rounds then made her appearance, sitting at a table nearby.

He wasn’t facing that table but when he turned, he shouted,
“Damn!” jumping up and knocking over some beers.
His friends, startled by his action, asked confused: “What is wrong with you, man?”

The man inhaled deeply, hitting the table angrily with his fist, “This is not happening!”
Other patrons turned to look and his friends got up and said, “I think you should go home and relax.”
He left abruptly and Sandhya felt satisfied she was unnerving him with fear.

His house, an outstanding modern design in an upscale area and the cars in his garage underlined his rich status.
“Money does talk,” she said, “And the poor have no voice, but I will find a voice to ensure you pay because I was too young to die, I had a future.”
At home, things weren’t looking good for her family. Her mother had to be taken to the hospital because her blood pressure had risen to a dangerous level. Her young brother and sister looked so lost with their big sister gone and the mother ill.

Sandhya stayed close with them for a period, though just a spiritual being, seen only by Princess whom she had to caution, “Don’t bark and wag your tail in excitement when you see me. I don’t want anybody to know I’m here.”
Princess had sat down with one paw over her eyes and peeping from under. Sandhya had to laugh to herself, “Gosh, you’re so smart and cute. I’ll really miss you.”

The day her mother came out of the hospital, Sandhya went back to find her killer. She knew she would have to leave Earth soon for a heavenly abode, so she had to make things happen.
Life went on for the rich man, of course, but she followed him everywhere, at fancy restaurants, bars and drag-racing events. Her haunting disturbed him so much that people in his close circle thought he was showing signs of a mental breakdown.

Then one morning whilst he was having breakfast, he broke down and shouted at her,
“What do you want?!”
His wife looked at him startled, “Who are you talking to?”
“The girl,” he said, suppressed anger on his face.

“What girl?”
There was worry on his wife’s face, given his recent strange behaviour.
The man got up, frustrated and angry at the same time at not having admitted his wrong, but forced now to do so.
“The accident I had made on the road and the young girl that died.”

He paused and inhaled deeply, then continued in a lower tone, “She has been haunting me.”
There was a long moment of silence as his wife looked at him, shocked, then she asked quietly,
“Why do you think she’s doing that?”

“I was not charged for her death and her family was not compensated.”
“And I guess she’s from a poor family?”
“Yes,” he answered.

His wife looking deeply upset, said: “There’s your answer. You literally killed a child on the road and walked free. Her soul is still here because she wants justice.”
“What can I do?”
“You need to visit the family and have a talk with them about the loss of their child and what you can do for them.”

He took his wife’s advice, wanting the problem to go away.
He did better than Sandhya expected, expressing his deep regrets to her mother for what had happened and giving her an envelope with a large amount of cash. She was reluctant to take the money, inconsolable in her grief because no money could pay for her child’s life.

He pleaded with her, “Please take this, I know it cannot compensate for your loss, and I will give you monthly cash support for two years to help you build your lives.”
Her mother couldn’t stop crying and asked somewhat puzzled,
“You were not charged for her death, so why are you doing this?”

He looked at Sandhya standing there and said,
“Let’s just say my conscience was haunting me and I figured this was the right thing to do.”
Soberly, her mother accepted his offer and said unmoved, “It’s good to know you have a conscience.”
The man smiled wryly and nodded.

Princess barked and wagged her tail and her mother looking at the dog, realised her daughter’s soul was still there.
“Sandhya,” she whispered, “You didn’t leave me, you made sure we were taken care of before you left.”
Sandhya smiled, “Yes, Ma, I have to go now, the angels have been waiting.”

She hugged Princess and said, “Now you’ll take care of the family and I’ll see you in heaven someday.”
The little dog whimpered sadly as the young girl slowly walked away.