The courtroom went silent as Julian turned the hem of his shirt toward the judge. “Your Honor, may I show you something?” he asked in a small, steady voice. The judge nodded. Julian pointed to a thin strip of white tape sewn inside the hem, covered in my handwriting. “Mom writes the day on it every time she washes it,” he said. “It says Tuesday. The picture is from Tuesday afternoon.”

Derek’s smile twitched. Spencer Lockhart rose to object, but the judge raised a hand. “Young man, why does that matter?” Julian took a deep breath. “Because when I left school, my shirt was clean. A man with a camera walked into me and spilled his drink all over it. Then he laughed.” My heart stopped. The judge turned to the bailiff and asked for the school’s hallway recording.