It was the backup drive from the kitchen camera.

The one Ethan claimed had been destroyed in the fire.

Sullivan started walking toward the prosecution table.

Sullivan entered the well of the court and handed the plastic bag to Vance.

Vance took the bag, his eyes scanning the label before he turned to face the bench.

“Your Honor,” Vance said, his voice cutting through the quiet room.

“The state presents the original digital backup drive from the kitchen of the Brooks estate.”

Ethan’s defense attorney, a tall man named Harris, stood up quickly.

“Objection, Your Honor,” Harris said, raising his hand.

“This is a sudden and highly irregular submission of evidence.”

“We have had no time to verify the authenticity of this device.”

Vance did not look back at him.

“The device was recovered from a private safe deposit box registered to an alias used by Ethan Brooks,” Vance said.

“It was retrieved under a federal search warrant executed less than two hours ago.”

The judge, a stern woman with gray hair pulled into a tight bun, leaned forward over her bench.