“You lied,” Darius says quietly. It isn’t an accusation. It’s a realization. “All this time… you lied.”
The judge finally seems to remember himself. He lowers back into the wheelchair with stiff, mechanical movements, as if sitting down might somehow rewind the last few seconds. But the room does not forget. No one forgets.
The prosecutor clears his throat. “Your Honor,” he says cautiously, “perhaps we should take a recess—”
“No!” Callaghan snaps. Sweat beads on his forehead. “This court will proceed.”
But the clerk is already standing. Her voice trembles as she speaks into the microphone. “Your Honor… the record reflects that you stood without assistance.”
The words hang in the air like a verdict.
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