Chapter 3 - The Secret Recording
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A wave of confused murmurs washed over the courtroom.
Clara felt her blood run cold. She placed both hands over her pregnant belly, a sickening realization beginning to take root in her mind. During her last two months at the house, she had suffered from horrific, unexplained cramping and terrifying bouts of nausea that her obstetrician couldn't fully explain. Gabriel had been so attentive then, insisting on brewing her a special herbal tea every night to help her sleep.
“Your Honor, this is absurd!” Gabriel’s attorney interjected, standing up. “The child has an active imagination. She’s traumatized by the divorce. We cannot admit the fantasies of a six-year-old as evidence in a financial settlement hearing.”
“It’s not a fantasy,” Violet said fiercely, her voice suddenly strong.
She turned the stuffed rabbit around and unzipped a small, hidden seam running down its back. Clara recognized the rabbit instantly. It was a nanny-cam toy she had bought years ago when Violet was a toddler, designed to monitor babysitters. She had forgotten all about the recording feature.
But Violet hadn't forgotten.
The little girl pulled a small, black digital recording module from the stuffing of the toy.
“I turned it on when Daddy brought the mean lady into the kitchen,” Violet said, holding the small black box up toward the judge. “I hid under the kitchen island. I pressed the red button just like Mama Clara taught me.”
Gabriel lunged forward. “Give me that right now, Violet!”
“Bailiff! Restrain him!” Judge Holloway roared.
Two armed bailiffs instantly crossed the room, grabbing Gabriel by the shoulders and forcing him back into his chair. Gabriel struggled, his face purple with rage, but the officers held him firmly in place.
Samantha was trembling violently, her eyes darting toward the heavy wooden doors at the back of the room as if calculating her chances of running.
“Bring that device to the bench, please,” Judge Holloway instructed the court clerk.
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The clerk gently took the recording module from Violet’s small hands and carried it to the judge. The courtroom was dead silent. You could hear the hum of the air conditioning vents as the judge inspected the small plastic device.
“Let’s hear exactly what Mr. Bun-Bun has to say,” the judge murmured, pressing the play button and holding the device up to her microphone.
