Every time my brother-in-law drove me home, I would lose consciousness and wake up with unexplained aches and pains. My husband would only laugh and say, “You’re just out of shape, that’s all.” After the fourth ride, I secretly slipped a voice recorder into my purse and said nothing. That night, I listened to a phone conversation between the two of them that revealed my blackouts had never been accidental.

The jury also heard from staff members who had raised concerns at the time.

I took breaks when I needed them.

The advocate reminded me that there was no prize for enduring every minute in the room.

After closing arguments, the jury deliberated.

I stayed at my apartment with Priya and my mother.

We made pasta.

Nobody ate much.

The phone remained on the table, silent and ordinary.