“Caleb,” she said, her voice calm but firm, “if you come, you stay in the gallery and you don’t make a scene. The evidence we’re introducing has to land cleanly. No distractions.”
I had agreed.
I meant it when I said yes.
The hearing began with the usual rhythm of legal procedure—motions, objections, carefully structured questions designed to guide testimony through narrow channels where the law could examine it without drowning in emotion. Lawyers spoke in polite, restrained tones, using words that sounded neat and harmless despite the ugliness hiding behind them.
Terms like conduct, incident, and inappropriate behavior floated through the room like sanitized ghosts.
Nobody said the words that actually belonged there.
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