Chapter 11: The Witness Stand
Chapter 11: The Witness Stand
“State your name for the record.”
“Evelyn Rose Whitmore.”
I sat in the witness box. The wood was hard against my back. The microphone picked up the slight tremor in my breath.
For the next two hours, Jenkins walked me through every second of that horrific night. I told the jury about Preston accusing Sophie. I told them about checking her pockets. I told them about standing between my brother and my daughter.
“And what happened next, Ms. Whitmore?” Jenkins asked.
“He looked at me,” I said, looking directly at Preston. He couldn't meet my eyes. “He picked up the heavy menu board from its brass stand. He raised it with both hands. And he brought it down on my daughter's head.”
“Did it slip?”
“No. He swung it like a weapon.”
The defense attorney stood up for cross-examination. He looked apologetic, knowing the jury hated him just for doing his job.
“Ms. Whitmore, isn't it true you’ve always had a strained relationship with your brother?”
“Yes.”
“Isn't it true you felt your parents favored him?”
“Yes.”
“So, it’s entirely possible that in the chaos of the moment, your preexisting bias made you interpret an accidental drop as a malicious strike?”
I leaned forward into the microphone.
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“You don't accidentally drop a ten-pound oak board sideways, with enough force to split a child’s skin to the bone. He hit her. And he smiled before he did it.”
The lawyer sighed. “No further questions.”
