Chapter 17 - The Hearing
The courtroom was packed.
Mariela entered wearing a pale dress instead of jail clothing.
Her hand rested on her stomach.
She was twelve weeks pregnant.
Esteban Ríos argued that she needed specialized medical care and posed no flight risk.
The prosecutor played the video.
Mariela throwing coffee.
Sofia falling.
Teresa screaming for us to leave.
The judge watched without expression.
Ríos stood.
“The video shows a terrible act.”
Mariela turned toward him sharply.
He continued.
“My client accepts that she caused the injury.”
A murmur spread through the courtroom.
It was the first admission.
“But the state is turning one impulsive act into a larger conspiracy.”
The prosecutor rose.
“She looked toward the camera before throwing the liquid.”
“Awareness of a camera does not prove intent.”
“She aimed at the child’s face.”
“It happened in seconds.”
I clenched my hands.
Daniel sat beside me.
He didn’t touch me.
He had learned not to assume.
The prosecutor called Javier.
He walked to the witness stand slowly.
Mariela stared at him.
“You’re really doing this?” she whispered.
The judge warned her.
Javier testified about the server.
The deleted footage.
Ricardo’s order to hide the backup drive.
Then the prosecutor asked, “Did your wife ever discuss harming Sofia before the incident?”
Javier hesitated.
Mariela’s eyes locked onto him.
He looked terrified.
“Yes.”
The courtroom went silent.
“When?”
“Two weeks earlier.”
“What did she say?”
Javier swallowed.
“She said Camila needed to learn that Sofia would never be equal to Iker.”
Mariela shot to her feet.
“Liar!”
Her chair crashed backward.
The judge ordered her to sit.
Javier continued.
“She said she wanted to scare the child.”
“Did she mention coffee?”
“No.”
Mariela began crying.
“You pathetic coward.”
Javier looked at her.
“No.”
His voice steadied.
“I was a coward every day I stayed quiet.”
The judge denied release.
Mariela screamed as officers took her away.
“This is your fault, Camila!”
I stood.
“No.”
She stopped fighting.
I looked directly at her.
“This is yours.”
Outside the courtroom, reporters surrounded us.
One shouted, “Camila, will you forgive the family?”
I kept walking.
Another asked, “Will you remain married to Daniel?”
I stopped.
Daniel stood several feet behind me.
I looked at the cameras.
“I don’t know.”
That answer became the headline.
That night, someone threw a brick through our apartment window.
A note was tied around it.
You should have kept family matters private.
The handwriting belonged to someone still inside the family.
May you like
And it wasn’t Ricardo, Teresa, or Mariela.
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