The judge read the first line in a flat, steady voice: “Once Natalie moves out, we tell the court she is unstable, and we take the baby before she can object.” On the screen, Joyce’s hands flew to her throat, and Brian stared at the floor of my own kitchen. The judge looked over her glasses. “Mrs. Calloway, did you write this?” Joyce opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Marian squeezed my hand beneath the table.

Then the video feed shifted, and a door opened behind Brian. His sister, Tessa, stepped into the frame in a gray coat, holding a thin folder against her chest. Her face was blotchy from crying. “Your Honor,” she said, “I am the witness named on the waiver, and I need to tell the court something before anyone else speaks.” Brian lunged toward her, but the judge raised a hand, and he froze.