That last message, written by my wife, became the center of the state’s case.

I never read it twice. I sat still while my attorney, Beverly Bennett, read the transcript aloud in open court three days later, and listened to what was left of their defense come apart.

Part Four — The Courtroom

The overhead lights in the county family court were unforgiving. I sat at the petitioner’s table in dress uniform with my hands folded on my files.

Beverly stood beside me and entered the text transcripts into the record.

Across the aisle, Samantha sat in a plain navy dress with her hair pulled back, dabbing at her eyes, doing her best impression of a heartbroken mother.

Gertrude wasn’t there; her criminal defense team had told her that appearing in family court would damage her own trial. Valerie, Brenda, and Jacqueline were named in the protective filings, and not one of them came.