His face was young, maybe twenty-eight, and his expression was full of quiet apology.

“I can’t advise you on legal matters, ma’am,” Bennett said.

“But given the accusations your husband just put on the official record, you might want to consider calling a lawyer.”

The overhead lights seemed to hum louder in the silent corridor, casting long shadows across the floor.

I looked down at the clipboard in my hands.

“What exactly do I write?” I asked.

“Start from the moment she woke up,” Bennett said.