Chapter 8: Statements
My formal statement took most of a morning and left me emptied of the need to perform composure.
Ruiz’s team walked me through the evening in sequence: the decision to hide, the sound of the lock, Nathan’s weight on the mattress, the phone call word for word as I remembered it, the crawl out, the call to police, the text to Alex, the knock, the glass, the sirens, the empty corridor where Nathan had been. Defense counsel for Nathan—already retained and already working a theory of exaggeration—pressed on details that might fray. How much dust. How clear the voice. Why I had not filmed the conversation from below. I said I had been trying not to die of discovery under a bed while a man planned a murder. Recording strategy had not been the priority. The camera Nathan himself had planted had recorded enough.
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Alex’s statement followed. He described the text, the disbelief, the decision to wait rather than confront in a hallway, the glass he did not take, the moment Nathan’s face changed when the sirens became audible. When he spoke about the later message—*Ask her how she knew exactly where to hide and listen*—his voice roughened. He admitted the hours of doubt. He admitted they were exactly what Nathan had purchased with a single sentence. Ruiz noted the admission without judgment. Human damage was also evidence of intent.
Afterward, in a hallway that smelled of floor cleaner and old coffee, Alex said he was sorry for the specific crime of letting Nathan’s blade find room in his expression when he looked at me. I told him I had room for that apology. I did not have room for a permanent trial between us. He understood the difference. We drove back to the temporary house in silence that was, for once, not loaded with unfinished accusations.
