I showed up at the hospital to surprise my husband during his shift. But the second one of his coworkers saw me, all the color left his face. Then his eyes filled with tears. “He hasn’t said a word to you, has he?” Ben and I had been married eleven years, and for every one of those years, I had shared him with the hospital. He was a remarkably gifted surgeon.

Walsh went visibly rigid, gripping the wooden arms of the witness chair until his knuckles turned chalk white.

“My husband thought he’d destroyed every trace of our home security footage when he smashed my phone,” Evelyn said calmly.

“But after twenty-three years married to a dishonest man, I learned to keep private backups on an encrypted flash drive.”

Jason plugged the silver drive into the hearing room’s projector, and the clear security video filled the wall.

The panel watched silently as Gregory Walsh stumbled up his stone steps, dropped his keys, and lurched helplessly toward his car.

Walsh shot up out of the witness chair so violently that it slammed into the wood paneling behind him.