“Yes,” she whispered.

“Speak into the microphone, please,” the judge said.

“Yes,” Melanie said louder, her voice cracking.

“During that time, Grace Sullivan was living in the basement apartment of that house, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you were responsible for bringing her meals and her medication?”

“Sometimes,” Melanie said.

She gripped the edge of the wooden witness box.

Her knuckles were white.

“The court has heard testimony that Grace was kept sedated and physically restrained,” Mr. Miller said.

He picked up the small plastic bag containing the blue container.

“Did you administer this liquid medication to Grace Sullivan without her consent?”

“I… I gave her what was prescribed,” Melanie said.

“This was not prescribed to Grace,” Mr. Miller said, his voice rising slightly.

“This was prescribed to you, Melanie,” he said.

Melanie looked down at her hands.

“Answer the question, Melanie,” Mr. Miller said.

“I did what I was told,” she said.

“Who told you to do it?”

Melanie looked toward the defense table where Josephine sat.

Josephine stared back at her daughter, her eyes narrowed into two cold slits.

“I asked you a question, Melanie,” Mr. Miller said.