Richard stood. “Thank you, Your Honor. We are here today because two small children have been subjected to a pattern of neglect and mistreatment by their stepmother, Mrs. Veronica Johnson, while their father was away on business.”
Richard laid out the case, presenting the phone to be entered as evidence. He showed the photos of the marks on James, the picture of Mary’s bruised knees, the image of the locked door. With each one, Judge Davis’s expression grew more serious.
“We will also hear testimony from Mrs. Deborah Williams, the family’s long-time housekeeper, who witnessed this pattern of behavior firsthand.”
Mrs. Deborah was called to the stand. Her voice was shaky at first, but she bravely recounted what she had seen.
“Your Honor,” she said, “I’ve worked for the Johnson family for ten years. I knew Mrs. Sarah. That home was full of love. When Mrs. Veronica came… it changed.”
Mrs. Deborah’s voice, though quiet, detailed the locked doors, the withheld meals, and the constant, looming threats. Judge Davis listened with focused attention, occasionally asking a clarifying question and scribbling notes. “Did you ever attempt to intervene directly?” the judge asked.
“I tried, ma’am. But she… she threatened my job. She said she’d tell Mr. Johnson I was stealing and that no one would believe an old housekeeper over her.”
“So you took the photographs instead?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I had to. Someone had to be a voice for those babies.”
When she was done, Judge Davis turned to the other table. “Ms. Williams, your opening statement.”
Michelle Williams stood, all polish and confidence. “Thank you, Your Honor. What you have just heard is a work of fiction, crafted by a disgruntled employee and a guilty father. The real victim here is my client, Mrs. Veronica Johnson.”
Michelle painted a picture of a loving stepmother, struggling to care for two grieving, difficult children, while their father, Marcus, abandoned them to chase money around the world.
Michelle moved to an easel displaying a chart she had prepared. “Mr. Johnson was absent, on average, twenty days out of every single month,” she announced. “He was not present for school functions, for doctor’s checkups, or for simple bedtime stories. He abdicated all the challenging, day-to-day work of raising children, leaving it entirely to my client.”
Marcus felt his face burn with shame, because he knew that part, at least, was true.
“And the photographs?” Judge Davis asked.
“Children play, Your Honor,” Michelle said with a dismissive wave. “They fall. They get bruises. A six-year-old spills juice, she is asked to clean it up. That is not mistreatment, Your Honor. That is called parenting. Something Mr. Johnson knows very little about.”
Michelle then called her one and only witness: Veronica.
Veronica glided to the stand, dabbing her eyes. “Mrs. Johnson,” Michelle said gently, “please tell the court what it was like, trying to care for Mary and James.”
“Oh, it was…” Veronica’s voice broke. “It was so hard. I loved them like they were my own. But Mary was so angry all the time, and the baby… he just cried and cried. And Marcus… Marcus was never there. I was all alone.”
“Did you ever, ever hurt those children?”
“No!” Veronica said, looking horrified. “Never. I may have been firm, but I was always fair. Everything I did, I did out of love, to give them the structure their father never did.”
Marcus felt sick. She was so good. She was so believable.
“And the food? Did you starve them?”
“Of course not! I put them on a healthy eating schedule. No junk food between meals. Mary was used to eating snacks all day. Of course she complained when I enforced a healthy routine.”
“Thank you, Mrs.Johnson. No further questions.”
Judge Davis looked at Veronica, then at Marcus, then at the file in front of her. “I have heard from the adults. However, in a case this serious, I feel it is necessary to hear from the child. Bailiff, please bring Mary Johnson forward.”
Marcus’s heart stopped. This was it.
Mary, looking impossibly small, was led by the bailiff to a chair next to the judge’s bench. Her feet dangled, not reaching the floor.
“Hello, Mary,” Judge Davis said, her voice much softer now. “My name is Angela. Thank you for coming to talk to me.”
Mary just nodded, her eyes wide.
“I know this is a big, scary room. But you are safe here. Your daddy is right there. All I want you to do is tell me the truth. Can you do that?”
Mary nodded again….
