The Difference Between Justice in Fiction and Real Life

In fiction, justice is often very tidy.

In a book, I have control over the outcome. In a story, I can ensure that the truth is uncovered, the responsible person is identified, and the story wraps up neatly, often within a few hundred pages.

The reader closes the book, maybe with a satisfied nod, and thinks, "Well, that’s that."

Wouldn’t it be nice if real life worked that way?

Unfortunately, real life did not get the memo. In the real world, cases go cold. Evidence is often missing or incomplete. Witnesses can forget things, rearrange what they saw or heard (often through suggestion by others), or may never come forward at all. There may be no solution or clear resolution. This often creates its own quiet hell, with families waiting decades, aching for any news.

Sometimes, even when all the pieces are there, they don’t quite fit together in a way that leads to a clear answer. Sometimes we know who and what, but not why. Sometimes, we only know one of the key elements of the case. Prosecutors and police officers know that they may "know who did it" but be unable to prove it. That is a special kind of torture.

There is also the harder truth: even when justice is served, it doesn’t always feel satisfying.

There’s no dramatic music, no final chapter where everything makes sense. Victims and their families have no guarantee that they will feel any real sense of closure. Life just keeps moving.

That difference between fiction and reality is something I think about a lot when I write. As a writer, I understand the reader’s need for resolution. Stories should go somewhere. There should be answers. There should be a sense that the journey mattered and led to something meaningful. But at the same time, I don’t want to pretend that justice is ever simple.

Because it isn’t.

Justice isn’t just about catching the right person or solving the puzzle. It’s about the process—the long, sometimes frustrating work of asking questions, following leads, and refusing to ignore what doesn’t make sense. It’s about effort, persistence, and more often than not, patience.

Sometimes justice looks like a courtroom victory.

Sometimes it looks like the truth finally coming to light after years of silence.

Sometimes—this is the uncomfortable one—it looks like someone simply refusing to let a story stay buried, even if the ending is incomplete.

That’s the space I try to write in.

Somewhere between the clean endings we want and the essy reality we live with is what I believe to be the truth behind the search for justice. While fiction can give us the satisfaction of answers, it can also remind us of something deeper: the pursuit of justice matters, even when the outcome isn’t perfect. Especially then.

So yes, my stories will give you resolution. (I’m not that cruel.) But they’ll also leave room for the truth that justice isn’t always neat, and it isn’t always complete. And maybe that’s the point.

Because justice isn’t always clean—but it’s always worth pursuing.

📚 Angels Trilogy

Coming Soon:🌿 Savannah Mysteries