Chapter 12 - Lena Takes the Stand
Lena was ten when trial began.
The prosecution built the case in layers.
Claire first.
Then doctors.
Then Tara.
Then company records.
Then Rebecca Miles.
Then Thomas Mercer.
Then me.
Then Lena.
She walked to the witness stand in navy pants that covered most of her prosthetic.
No dramatic yellow dress.
No visual performance.
Just a child.
The prosecutor started simply.
“Who is Wade?”
“My uncle.”
“Did you love him?”
Lena looked down.
“Yes.”
“Do you still?”
“I don’t know.”
Then café.
Snow.
Tables.
My chair.
Then bruises.
“What happened three days before you ran?”
“I went in his office.”
“Why?”
“Looking for my charger.”
“What did he do?”
“Grabbed me.”
“Where?”
She pointed at forearms.
Then final night.
“Did you see Wade touch your mother?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“He pushed her.”
Then:
“Did your mother tell you to leave?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“Go to the café. Find Mark. If he’s not there, find police.”
Then:
“Why not stay in house?”
“Because Uncle Wade was angry.”
Then the guardianship photographs.
“Have you seen these before?”
“Yes.”
“Who took them?”
“Uncle Wade.”
“Who gave you those bruises?”
“He did.”
Then defense.
“Lena, Wade bought things for you?”
“Yes.”
“Helped at appointments?”
“Yes.”
“Carried you after surgeries?”
“Yes.”
“Made you laugh?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you he loved you?”
“Yes.”
Then:
“Could he have grabbed you because you were doing something unsafe?”
Lena thought.
“I was opening a door.”
Then:
“Could you have misunderstood?”
“Maybe some things.”
Good.
A child allowed uncertainty.
Then:
“But not my arms.”
Silence.
Defense shifted.
“Your mother talked to you about money?”
“After police.”
“About company?”
“A little.”
“Do you know how much you own?”
“Not exactly.”
“Do you want Wade to lose company?”
Lena frowned.
“I want him not to touch us.”
There.
The jury did not need a ten year old to understand corporate law.
Then:
“Do you hate your uncle?”
Lena looked at Wade.
“No.”
Wade began crying.
“I’m scared of him.”
Different.
Then she stepped down.
Outside, she shook so hard Claire wrapped both arms around her.
“How do you feel?”
“Tired.”
Not powerful.
Not triumphant.
Tired.
Then she asked:
“Did I do okay?”
Claire said:
“You told truth.”
That was better than performance review.
Then I brought Rex over.
Lena dropped to floor beside him.
He leaned against her.
No applause.
No speech.
May you like
Just one old dog doing what he had done in the café.
Giving a child somewhere safe to put her weight.
