Chapter 7
Trial day dawned gray and rainy.
I stood outside the courthouse, holding Mia’s hand on one side and Grandma’s on the other, and took a deep breath.
Mr. Bennett walked up beside me, his briefcase in hand.
“Ready?” he said.
I nodded.
“Let’s end this.”
Inside, the courtroom was packed.
Reporters. Curious onlookers. A few of Dad’s old construction workers, who’d come to show their support.
Mom and Hannah sat at the other table, their faces tight. Their flashy lawyer looked nervous, like he already knew he was going to lose.
The first two days were our turn.
Mr. Bennett called the nurses first.
They told the jury about the yelling. About how Dad had asked for me, over and over, and Mom and Hannah had told him I was too busy to come. About how confused he’d been, how he’d cried when they made him sign the fake will.
Then he played Dad’s video again.
I watched the jury this time.
Every single one of them was crying by the end.
Then Grandma took the stand.
She walked slowly to the witness box, her hands folded in her lap. She told the jury about the hospital waiting room, about the yelling, about the slap at dinner.
“I should have spoken up sooner,” she said, her voice clear and steady. “I was a coward. But I’m here now. And I will not let my son’s name be dragged through the mud by the very people who were supposed to love him most.”
Mom’s lawyer tried to attack her.
“Aren’t you just saying this because Olivia promised you a place to live?” he sneered. “Aren’t you just a bitter old woman who’s angry at her own daughter?”
Grandma looked him dead in the eye.
“I am 82 years old,” she said. “I have lived in the same house for 58 years. I have my own savings, my own friends, my own life. I don’t need anything from Olivia. I’m here because my son asked me to take care of his little girl. And I failed him for a while. But I’m not failing him today.”
The jury nodded.
The next day, Hannah took the stand.
She put on a show.
She cried. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. She talked about what a good daughter she’d been, how she’d stayed by Dad’s side, how I’d abandoned the family to chase a silly job in Austin.
“Olivia was always jealous of me,” she sobbed. “She always hated that Dad loved me more. She made up that whole fake will just to hurt me. She even attacked me when I tried to stop her.”
Mr. Bennett stood up, calm as ever.
“Ms. Carter,” he said. “Where were you on the afternoon of October 12th? The day the fake will was signed?”
“I was at the hospital,” Hannah said, without hesitation. “With my dad.”
“Interesting,” Mr. Bennett said. “Because we have time-stamped photos from your own Instagram account, posted at 2:17 that afternoon, showing you at a spa in Fort Worth—two hours away from the hospital. With a glass of champagne in your hand. The caption reads: ‘Treating myself after a long week.’”
He held up the photo, enlarged, for the whole court to see.
Hannah’s face went bright red.
“I… I deleted that,” she stammered.
“Nothing is ever really deleted from the internet, Ms. Carter,” Mr. Bennett said. “You lied under oath. You lied about being at the hospital. You lied about your sister attacking you. You lied about almost everything you’ve said in this courtroom.”
He turned to the jury.
“This is who you’re being asked to believe,” he said. “A woman who will lie, cheat, and manipulate anyone—even her own dying father—to get what she thinks she deserves.”
Hannah ran out of the courtroom in tears.
May you like
I didn’t feel bad for her.
Not anymore.
