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.

Ellis asked for that list separately.

I could see her resisting the urge to ask leading questions.

Dana explained that she had resigned after overhearing an argument between Vanessa and a technician.

The technician said, “A spouse’s signature doesn’t make an unconscious patient a willing participant.”

The room became painfully quiet.

“Why didn’t you report it?” I asked.

Dana’s eyes filled.

“I should have.