Chapter 18 - Tell the Truth
I wanted to object. I wanted to grab Emma and walk out of the building and never let another adult squeeze truth out of her again.
But the judge allowed limited testimony with the therapist present.
So Emma came in.
She wore a blue cardigan and held her rabbit under one arm. Dr. Singh sat nearby. The judge lowered her voice and told Emma nobody was in trouble for telling the truth.
Emma nodded solemnly.
Claire’s lawyer smiled in a way that made me hate him instantly.
“Emma,” he said, “did Claire ever feed you?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ever take you to school?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ever tell you she loved you?”
Emma thought about it. “She said it when Daddy was in the room.”
A ripple moved through the courtroom.
He adjusted his tie. “Did Claire ever apologize after the playhouse?”
Emma’s little face went flat in a way I had never seen before.
“She said if I told too much, Daddy would be alone forever and it would be my fault.”
That landed harder than anything.
The lawyer glanced at his notes and made a terrible choice.
“Emma, do you miss your mother very much?”
I saw Ortiz tense beside me.
Emma looked down at the rabbit, then back up. “Every day.”
“Is it possible,” he said carefully, “that sometimes when you miss your mommy, things feel scarier than they are?”
There was a pause.
Then my daughter answered in a clear little voice that I will remember for the rest of my life.
“No. Scary feels scary all by itself.”
Even the judge leaned back.
The prosecutor stood next and introduced Dr. Keller, Rosa, the bruise photos, the hidden-camera audio, the debt notices, and Claire’s handwritten punishment list.
By the time the list was read aloud, Claire was no longer composed.
She snapped.
“That child ruined everything!” she shouted, half rising from her chair. “He was supposed to choose me!”
Her own lawyer grabbed her arm too late.
The judge slammed her gavel.
Claire kept going, voice cracking. “You all act like I’m a monster because I wanted order! Because I was tired of a dead woman running my life through a little copy of her—”
The bailiff moved in.
I closed my eyes.
When I opened them, the judge was already speaking.
May you like
“No contact,” she said. “Immediate remand.”
And Claire was still screaming as they dragged her out.
