His lips formed the same soft, reassuring shape that a mother might use, and my throat closed.
“Please answer the question,” Daniel said.
“I…”
“Carter.”
The judge leaned forward.
When he lowered his hand, the sharper edge of the room seemed to soften with it.
“Daniel, sit down for a moment,” the judge said quietly.
Daniel blinked, then returned to his seat.
The judge looked directly at me, not at my file.
“Son,” he said, “I have served on this bench for 28 years. I would like to hear the real reason in your own words. Take your time.”
