It was about 6 p.m. on March 19, the eve of the U.S. Supreme Court oral arguments for Jackson v. Hobbs and Miller v. Alabama, when I set up my camp on the steps of U.S. Supreme Court. I wanted to be first in line for the 50 spectator spots dedicated for the public. It was an inhumane hour to begin my vigil, but I was prepared for the wait. I have spent countless hours, months and years holding a vigil and waiting for the relief I pray the Supreme Court decision in these cases affords my imprisoned son.

I was joined before the bewitching hour by a mom who lost her 3-year-old son in a drive-by shooting. I had met Sharletta Evans before, but we became twin sisters from different mothers that night. We shared a single chair, a single umbrella and a single purpose; redemption. I will always cherish Sharletta for her loving presence. Even though her son was gone, she was holding a vigil with me that my son might get a second chance. And I was holding a candle for her in memory of the son she lost. We were of one beating heart for restorative justice that night.

In the wee hours of the morning, other hopeful spectators began to gather in the line. By dawn it would stretch out of my sight. I had secured the prized number one spot and the rest of our dedicated troops were dispersed mostly among the first 50. It was a sight to behold as we huddled together under a canopy of umbrellas, determined to hold our space even in the rain. The CFSY staff continued to fortify the front lines with much needed food, drink and support for every usual and unusual need. Videographers could be seen scurrying about gathering stories of hope and conviction. Advocates were memorializing the occasion with photos of our vigilant journey to send to those holding space in the prisons and on the home fronts. Then, as the storm broke, the first 50 of us were issued tickets for seats. The timing reminded me that relief is possible. And so together we entered the Court in solidarity.

We were ushered to our seats and asked to maintain complete silence with our attention focused on the proceedings at all times. The Justices emerged and took their seats from behind long, red drapes. Attorney Bryan Stevenson was asked to argue for the defendant Miller first. I was amazed at how he crafted his opening remarks as if to summarize his whole case in one breath before the Justices began firing questions at him. He was extraordinarily prepared for the interruptions.

Throughout the proceedings, Bryan’s presence was commanding and his words filled the chambers with the truth about our forgotten children. As the arguments for both sides came to a close I found myself deeply moved that finally our cause had been adequately told. It is clear to me that no matter what the Justices determine in their written opinion, our work now must be taken into the states with the conviction of an army. We must gather those who are looking for us. We must seek out and educate those who don’t understand. We must have compassion for all who have suffered.

Sharletta and I are two moms whose paths normally wouldn’t have crossed in an everyday world. It is because of our great suffering, our endless loss and our desire for healing that we have created one heart, one mind and one voice in this crusade for justice. It’s what we wish for all people.

Cat Lambert is co-coordinator of the National Family Network, a community of support for loved ones of people impacted by violence and focused on healing and restorative practices in place of extreme sentences for youth.