“No, your honor.”
The judge was about to bang her gavel, to seal my fate, when the courtroom doors burst open. A young woman limped in on crutches, her leg in a heavy cast.
The parents’ faces went ghost white. They looked as if they’d seen a ghost.
“Who are you?” the judge asked, her voice sharp with annoyance at the interruption.
The woman pointed a trembling finger at the Petersons. “My name is Ashley Rodriguez. I’m their former foster daughter. And I have evidence of what really happened that day.”
Ashley limped forward and handed the judge her phone. The judge looked at the screen, her expression shifting from annoyed to shocked to furious in the space of seconds.
“Bailiff, lock those doors. Nobody leaves this courtroom,” she commanded, her voice ringing with authority. She connected Ashley’s phone to the courtroom’s large monitor. “I’m going to play this for everyone.”
