“Mom wrote the wording,” Vanessa said, her voice breaking as tears ran down her face.

“Did your mother order you to throw a hot skillet at four-year-old Emma?” Marcus asked.

“No,” Vanessa said, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

“I lost my temper because Emma sat at the nook table where Olivia wanted to sit.”

Attorney Cross propped his forehead in his right palm and stared down at the green blotter on his desk.

“No further questions for this witness,” Marcus said.

Judge Vance gathered the file folders on her desk and tapped their bottom edges on the dark mahogany until they were lined up neatly.