And in answer, the prosecutor played the recordings — not for spectacle, but because the truth, in our case, could simply be heard.

I will not describe what filled the courtroom.

I will only say that when it was over, no one in that room believed we had fallen down any stairs.

Chapter 18 — The Live Microphone

The moment that ended it was not one we planned.

During a recess, my mother had begun to cry, and Roland — forgetting that the microphone at the defense table was still live — leaned over and told her, in a low voice that carried through the courtroom speakers, to be quiet, or she would end up worse off than the two of us.

The judge sent the jury out and reprimanded the defense, but it did not matter.