It was raining the day the trial opened.
I sat at the plaintiff's table. Lydia was beside me.
Ethan sat at the defendant's table in a blue detention vest. He had lost a lot of weight. He kept his head down.
The public gallery was packed.
My parents were in the second row, holding each other's hands.
The judge struck the gavel.
The proceedings began.
Lydia touched my hand and passed me a tissue.
I hadn't realized I was crying.
The evidence phase came. Lydia stood and walked to the center of the courtroom.
"Your Honor, the plaintiff submits the following evidence."
Item by item. Page by page.
The chain of evidence was airtight — textbook-perfect.
A hush fell over the courtroom.
Ethan's defense attorney declined to argue.
During the final statements, Ethan asked to speak.
He s
