Chapter 17 - MY TURN
I testified from a smaller chair placed near the witness stand.
By then I was nine.
The judge allowed breaks.
Dr. Kim waited outside.
The prosecutor asked about the glass.
“I knocked it over on purpose.”
“Why?”
“The medicine was inside.”
“Did Grant know why?”
“I tried to tell him.”
“What happened?”
“He used the cord.”
I described each step.
Mother in the doorway.
The towel.
The crawl.
The bottle.
Grant’s hand on my shirt.
The address.
I did not feel brave.
My mouth went dry.
The courtroom lights made everyone’s faces look distant.
Grant’s attorney approached gently.
That frightened me more than anger.
“You loved your sister very much.”
“Yes.”
“You sometimes took blame for her.”
“Yes.”
“You lied about breaking a vase.”
“Yes.”
“So you have admitted making false statements to protect Sophie.”
“Yes.”
“Is it possible you broke Grant’s glass in anger, then created the medicine explanation to protect yourself?”
“No.”
“You hated Grant.”
“Yes.”
A murmur moved through the room.
The attorney paused.
“You wanted him gone.”
“Yes.”
“Did you write that you would make people believe he hurt you?”
“He made me write parts.”
“But some words were yours.”
“Yes.”
“How can this jury know which words belong to you?”
I looked toward Grant.
He watched calmly.
I remembered what Mrs. Ellis said under the desk.
Wait until your body knows where it is.
I felt the witness chair.
My shoes against the floor.
Richard behind the prosecutor.
Nora near the aisle.
Sophie not present because she would testify by recorded interview.
“The words I’m saying now belong to me.”
The attorney asked about the cord again.
“Did Grant strike you because he knew medicine was hidden?”
“He struck me because I broke the glass.”
“So the medicine was not why he punished you.”
“No.”
“Then this was discipline for destruction.”
“It was beating me because his glass mattered more than why I broke it.”
He objected to my answer as argumentative.
The judge instructed the jury to consider facts.
I continued.
The defense showed the residential-school brochure.
“Did your mother tell you the school might help?”
“No.”
“Did you have behavior problems?”
“I tore a worksheet.”
“Did you disobey Grant?”
“Yes.”
“Frequently?”
“Yes.”
“Could your defiance create danger for Sophie by escalating him?”
The prosecutor objected.
The judge sustained.
The question remained inside me anyway.
After testimony, I vomited in the courthouse bathroom.
Nora held my hair.
“I said I hated him.”
“You did.”
“Was that bad?”
“No.”
“What if the jury thinks it is?”
“They are allowed to know the truth includes anger.”
Grant had trained me to believe only calm victims deserved rescue.
My anger did not cancel the marks on my back.
The jury would decide days later.
May you like
My body had already learned the harder decision.
I did not need to apologize for wanting the person hurting us to be gone.
