Chapter 10
Diane’s trial began in summer.
By then, I could walk with a brace.
I wore a black dress and flat shoes.
Dad sat beside me.
Laura sat on my other side.
Ryan sat behind his lawyer, pretending to be ashamed.
Diane looked straight ahead.
The prosecutor opened with the kitchen.
The dough.
The insult.
The rolling pin.
The strike.
Then the second strike.
“She did not lose her temper,” the prosecutor said. “She enforced control.”
I testified first.
My voice shook when I described the pain.
It steadied when I described Ryan kneeling beside Diane instead of me.
Diane’s lawyer asked, “Did you speak disrespectfully?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
Then I said, “Disrespect is not a fracture.”
The jury watched me.
They listened.
He tried again.
“Did you ever dislike Mrs. Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she treated kindness like weakness and women like property.”
Diane’s mouth tightened.
Laura testified next.
Her hospital records were shown.
The old police report.
The forged power of attorney.
The stolen settlement.
By lunch, Diane’s pearls looked less like elegance and more like costume jewelry on a crime.
On the third day, Ryan testified.
He admitted Diane struck me.
He admitted he minimized it.
He admitted he knew about Laura’s injuries years earlier.
The prosecutor asked, “Why did you not help your wife?”
Ryan whispered, “Because helping her meant standing against my mother.”
“And you chose?”
May you like
He looked down.
“My mother.”
