Chapter 7 - THE TRIAL
The trial was a national spectacle. The courtroom was packed to maximum capacity every single day.
I took the stand on the third morning. The room was dead silent as I recounted the events of that freezing night. I spoke about the terror. The cold. The realization that the people who were supposed to protect me were actively trying to kill me and my child.
The public defender tried to cross-examine me, asking if my memory of the night was clouded by panic.
“My memory is perfectly clear, sir,” I said, projecting my voice so the jury could hear every word. “I remember the temperature. I remember the exact mile marker. But most of all, I remember the smile on my mother’s face when she drove away.”
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The jury visibly recoiled. Several of them glared at my parents with unconcealed disgust.
My parents refused to look at me. They sat at separate tables, refusing to even look at each other. They were broken, pathetic, and entirely alone.
