He didn’t make excuses.
He didn’t pretend his past had never happened.
He simply told the truth.
But as I looked around the courtroom, I could tell that the truth alone might not be enough.
Then Denise Ortiz stood up.
“Your Honor, Kayla Mercer recorded a statement in my office on the afternoon she signed her guardianship documents. I would respectfully ask the court to hear it.”
The judge agreed.
The lights dimmed.
My sister appeared on the screen.
She was sitting in a chair, wearing a yellow sundress, one hand resting on her pregnant belly.
Her left wrist was still in a cast.
My stupid little motorcycle drawing was visible near the edge.
She looked exhausted.
She looked frightened.
But she was alive.
Mom made a small, broken sound beside me.
“Hi, Your Honor,” Kayla began with a nervous laugh. “If you’re watching this, something probably went wrong. My doctor says my blood pressure isn’t where it should be, and I don’t want to take any chances with my baby.”
