Martha and I walked down the carpeted center aisle to the plaintiff’s table on the left side of the room.

The oak pews behind us were empty except for a reporter taking notes near the back and a bailiff standing by the side door.

Julian and his attorney took their places at the table on the right, four feet from where I sat.

Clara sat down in the very front row of the gallery, right behind Julian, resting her hands on the polished railing.

At three minutes to nine, the heavy door at the back of the room clicked open and shut.