The words landed like stones.
They promised it to us.
He fixed the numbers.
No lawyer could unsay that.
No mother’s tears could soften it.
No father’s outrage could bury it.
Judge Whitman stared at Brittany. “Thank you, Mrs. Price. That will be noted by the court reporter.”
Brittany realized what she had done.
She sat down hard.
Jamal whispered, “Brittany, shut up.”
The judge slammed the gavel. “Mr. Price, you will not address anyone in this courtroom unless I instruct you to.”
Then he looked at the bailiff.
“Lock the doors.”
Part 4
The heavy courtroom doors closed with two metallic clicks.
My mother screamed.
“They’re arresting Cassidy,” Patricia cried, grabbing my father’s sleeve. “Richard, I told you she was dangerous.”
No one answered her.
Because no one was looking at me.
Every eye in the room was on Jamal.
Judge Whitman stood behind the bench, robe falling around him like black thunder.
“Mr. Price,” he said, “remain seated. If you attempt to leave that witness box, you will be restrained.”
Jamal went pale.
Caldwell stepped back from the plaintiff table as if proximity itself could infect him.
“Your Honor,” Caldwell said quickly, “I must state for the record that I had no knowledge of any forged documentation. My clients represented these records as authentic.”
My father turned on him. “You said this would work.”
Caldwell looked horrified.
The judge’s eyes sharpened. “Mr. Vale, did you just say counsel told you this would work?”
My father froze.
Patricia grabbed his arm.
Caldwell raised both hands. “Your Honor, I move to withdraw as counsel immediately.”
“Granted,” Judge Whitman said. “And you will preserve all communications with your former clients. Federal investigators may want them.”
Caldwell packed his briefcase so fast he dropped a pen.
He did not pick it up.
He left the table.
He left my parents.
He left Brittany.
He left them exactly where they had tried to leave me.
Alone.
Exposed.
Unprotected.
The judge looked at Jamal. “The court has reviewed sealed federal records indicating probable evidence of wire fraud, identity theft, forgery, perjury, obstruction, and attempted abuse of judicial process.”
Jamal’s voice cracked. “Your Honor, I need my lawyer.”
“You should have thought of that before using my courtroom as a laundering machine.”
The bailiff moved behind him.
The handcuffs came out.
The sound of steel sliding from leather was soft, but Brittany heard it.
