I closed my eyes, the memory of that night rushing back.

Then came the sound of a struggle, a gasp of pain, and a low moan.

“Shut her up, Courtney,” Patricia’s voice commanded on the tape.

Next was the sound of a hand striking flesh, followed by my own muffled cry.

The audio stopped.

The silence in the courtroom was absolute.

I opened my eyes and looked at Patricia.

The color had drained from her face, leaving her skin a pasty, yellow hue.

Her attorney sat down slowly, his mouth slightly open.

Judge Henderson looked down from her bench, her expression hard as stone.

“Does the defense wish to explain this?” the judge asked.

Patricia’s attorney stood up, stuttering. “Your Honor, this audio could be manipulated…”

“It is not manipulated,” Miller said. “And we have a witness who can corroborate the physical assault.”

Miller turned toward Courtney.

“Courtney Parker,” Miller said. “You were present. You carried out your mother’s orders, didn’t you?”

Courtney looked at her mother, her eyes wide with panic.

Patricia glared at her, her jaw clenched, silently demanding her silence.