Chapter 8 - The Testimony
The courtroom was suffocatingly quiet as Judge Eleanor Vance called the first witness for the prosecution on the second day of the trial.
“The State calls Liora Mercer,” the prosecuting attorney, a sharp woman named Sarah Jenkins, announced clearly.
Liora felt a momentary flutter in her stomach, but it was nothing like the panic she had felt in the hospital hallway months ago. She stood up smoothly from the gallery bench, walked to the witness stand, placed her hand on the Bible, and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
As she took her seat in the witness box, she looked across the room. Gideon was staring at her with wide, unblinking eyes, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscle twitched. His public defense attorney leaned over and whispered something in his ear, but Gideon didn't respond.
“Liora,” Prosecutor Jenkins began, stepping toward the witness box with a reassuring smile. “Could you please describe for the court the events of the morning of November fourteenth—the day your brother Callum was hospitalized?”
In a clear, steady voice that echoed through the high-ceilinged courtroom without a single tremor, Liora began to speak.
She detailed Callum’s restlessness, the sweat, the pale skin, and the trembling hands. She explained how she had discovered the deleted emails from the state newborn screening program on the family computer, how she had researched the symptoms online, and how she had prepared the measured glucose solution to keep her baby brother from slipping into a fatal hypoglycemic coma.
When Jenkins asked about the moment Gideon burst into the kitchen, Liora didn't hesitate.
“Dad walked in and demanded to know what I was putting in the bottle,” Liora testified, her eyes meeting the judge’s directly. “When I told him it was glucose for his blood sugar, he ripped the bottle out of my hands, accused me of trying to poison my brother, and carried Callum into the next room. When he came back two minutes later, he was holding a completely different bottle with a blue cap—one I had never seen before.”
“Objection, Your Honor,” Gideon’s defense attorney stood up quickly. “Speculation on what the defendant was holding or where it came from.”
“Overruled, counselor,” Judge Vance replied coolly. “The witness is describing direct personal observation.”
Prosecutor Jenkins nodded. “Liora, had you ever seen that second bottle—the one containing the industrial cleaning solvent—anywhere in the house prior to that morning?”
“Never,” Liora answered firmly. “I cleaned the kitchen counters every evening. I organized the pantry. That bottle was never in our kitchen supply.”
“No further questions, Your Honor,” Jenkins said, returning to her seat.
May you like
The defense attorney stepped up to cross-examine, attempting to rattle Liora by suggesting teenage jealousy, academic stress, and an overactive imagination. But Liora’s composure remained granite-solid. She answered every trick question with precise dates, times, and entries from her recovered handwritten logbook.
When she stepped down from the witness stand and returned to sit beside her mother, Maris squeezed her hand so hard it hurt. But neither of them let go.
