Chapter 10: The Day I Testified
The courtroom was smaller than I expected.
I sat on the witness stand with my hands folded in my lap. My ribs still ached sometimes, but I sat up straight. I wanted the jury to see me clearly.
Michael sat at the defense table. He looked thinner. His eyes were red. When our gazes met, he quickly looked away.
The prosecutor played several of the videos I had recorded. The courtroom was completely silent as they watched Michael slap me, shove me, and scream at me to sign the papers.
When it was my turn to speak, I told the truth.
I told them how he had moved back in promising to take care of me. I told them how the requests for money turned into threats and violence. I told them about the broken ribs and the nights I cried myself to sleep.
I didn’t cry on the stand.
I had already done all my crying.
When the defense lawyer tried to paint me as a confused old woman, I looked him straight in the eye.
“I may be seventy-three,” I said clearly, “but I know exactly what my son did to me. And I have the videos to prove it.”
After I finished testifying, I walked out of the courtroom and didn’t look back.
That night, I moved out of the shelter and into a small apartment near my daughter’s house. My daughter, Sarah, had flown in from another state after she found out what happened. She held me for a long time when she saw me.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” she whispered. “I should have known. I should have checked on you more.”
I shook my head.
“This isn’t your fault,” I told her. “None of it is.”
For the first time in years, I felt like I could finally breathe.
Michael’s trial wasn’t over yet.
But I had already won something much more important.
May you like
I had won my freedom.
And no one was ever going to take that away from me again.
