“You state here that your sister has never attended law school.”

Brenda swallowed.

“Yes.”

“She graduated from Suffolk University Law School.”

“I didn’t know that.”

I stared at her.

So did the judge.

“You didn’t know where your sister spent three years?”

“We weren’t close.”

My mother cut in.

“She told us she was studying something related to legal administration.”

I looked at her.

“No, I didn’t.”

Her face hardened.

“Yes, you did.”

“No.”

“You absolutely did.”

My pulse slowed.

In court, witnesses occasionally give you something they don’t realize they’ve given.

A contradiction.

A sentence too certain.

A detail that opens a door.

My entire career had trained me to recognize those doors.

This one hurt because my mother stood behind it.

“When?” I asked.

She blinked.

“When what?”

“When did I tell you I was studying legal administration?”

“Years ago.”

“Where?”

“I don’t remember.”

“On the phone?”

“Probably.”

“Before or after my graduation?”

Her eyes flickered.

Judge Morland watched closely.

My mother snapped, “Why does that matter?”

“Because you didn’t come to my graduation.”

Silence.

Brenda glanced at our father.

My mother shifted.

I continued.

“You told me you couldn’t attend because Brenda’s wedding was the same weekend.”

Brenda tightened her expression.