Forty-Eight Hours
She was slow.
She was quiet.
She would look off to the side of the camera before she answered a question, which everybody told me was a child checking with an adult and which I now know was a child who was not fully awake.
I raised it.
Twice, in writing.
The answer, both times, was that she had been up late, or that she had a cold, or that she was tired from school.
And the second time, Sol Aguirre advised me not to put it in a filing, because a mother alleging that a child looks sedated on a video call, with no evidence, in a file that already contains thirty-eight pages of Dr.