CHAPTER 9: THE COURT
The courthouse was cold.
Sterile.
Filled with the kind of people who were paid to care.
Detective Webb was there.
So was my mother.
And Preston.
And my father.
They were all there, watching me like I was the enemy.
But I wasn't the enemy.
I was the truth.
The judge walked in.
We all rose.
And then the reading began.
"Order in the court."
I stood up.
"Your Honor. I have evidence that my brother, Preston Whitmore, committed assault against my minor daughter. I also have evidence that he and my mother have been involved in a conspiracy to defraud the family business."
My mother stood up.
"She's lying. She's always been a liar."
The judge banged his gavel.
"Mr. Whitmore. Mrs. Whitmore. I will speak when I'm ready."
I presented my evidence.
The recordings.
The documents.
The footage.
And by the time I was done, my mother looked like she had aged twenty years.
"This is a family matter," she said.
"It's a criminal matter," I replied.
"Judge. I'm requesting that Mr. Preston Whitmore be charged with assault on a minor. And I'm requesting that my mother be investigated for her involvement in the cover-up."
The judge looked at me.
"Mrs. Whitmore, do you understand the consequences of this action?"
May you like
"Yes, Your Honor."
"Then I will honor your request."
