Lauren Sanders has been left to start a 'new' normal life with her aunt and cousin after her family died. Everybody knows almost everything except for two things: Lauren's parents' mysterious death and her schizophrenia.
Lauren goes out on a mission...
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Mr. Dawson, the formidable prosecutor, stood up and gestured for Bill Harper to approach. With measured steps, Bill walked towards the witness stand, his eyes scanning the room as he reached its wooden confines. A hush fell over the spectators as we all watched the unfolding drama.
"Mr. Harper," Mr. Dawson began, his voice resonating through the courtroom, "please raise your right hand."
Bill Harper raised his hand, and a solemn expression crossed his face as he prepared to take the oath. "Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" Mr. Dawson asked.
"I do," Bill replied firmly, his gaze unwavering.
As the oath was administered, I couldn't help but wonder what Bill knew that had brought him into this courtroom. What secrets were hidden in his testimony that could alter the course of the trial?
Mr. Dawson cleared his throat and started his questioning. "Mr. Harper, can you please state your occupation for the record?"
"I am an art curator," he answered, his voice steady but tinged with unease.
The courtroom seemed to collectively hold its breath, a puzzled murmur sweeping through the audience. I leaned forward, my curiosity piqued.
Mr. Dawson continued, his tone measured. "And were you acquainted with Cora Sanders, the mother of the accused, Lauren Sanders?"
"Yes," he said quietly, "I knew Cora. She was an artist, and I curated all of her exhibitions."
Whispers and murmurs rippled through the courtroom, connecting the dots between Bill, Cora Sanders, and the tragic murder of the Sanders Couple.
Mr. Dawson then handed a piece of evidence to the judge, a move that caught everyone's attention. The judge examined it carefully, her brow furrowing before she nodded. The anticipation in the room grew.
Turning his attention back to Bill Harper, Mr. Dawson inquired, "Mr. Harper, could you tell the court about your previous marriage to Linda Monroe-Harper?"
Bill's face grew tense, and he glanced at the floor briefly before answering, "Linda Monroe-Harper is my ex-wife. We divorced a few years ago."
Mr. Dawson fixed his gaze on Bill, his voice deliberate and probing. "And can you tell the court the reason behind your divorce, Mr. Harper?"
Bill's shoulders tensed as he cleared his throat, his eyes avoiding the accusatory stares from the gallery. "Linda accused me of physical and psychological abuse," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
The words hung heavy in the air, causing an audible gasp to ripple through the courtroom. It was as if a storm had descended upon the proceedings, and the fragile calm had shattered.
As the courtroom erupted into a cacophony of murmurs and gasps, the judge, with her patience seemingly tested, banged the gavel twice on the bench to quell the rising turmoil. "Silence in my courtroom!" she commanded, her voice stern.
