Chapter 3 - The Broken Twin
Inside the juvenile visitation room, the air was cold and smelled faintly of copper polish.
Eli sat across from a public defender named Clara Mercer—a sharp-eyed woman in her mid-thirties with dark hair pulled into a tight bun and a mountain of manila folders stacked in front of her.
"Eli," Clara said gently, sliding a glass of water toward him. "The preliminary hearing is scheduled for Thursday morning. The prosecution is pushing to try you as a juvenile delinquent for arson and attempted reckless endangerment."
Eli stared down at his bandaged hand. "Did my mom wake up yet?"
"She is conscious," Clara replied softly. "She’s at Harrisburg Memorial. The doctors are limiting visitors right now, but your father has been by her side."
At the mention of his father, Eli’s hands clenched into tight fists.
"My father is lying," Eli said, his voice quiet but filled with an intense, icy clarity.
Clara leaned forward, resting her elbows on the wooden table. "Eli, I need you to be completely honest with me. Your brother Evan gave a sworn statement to the detective. He said he saw you near the garage with a lighter."
"Evan is scared of him," Eli whispered, looking directly into Clara's eyes. "My dad has been threatening to send me to a military boarding school for three months because I found the tax papers in his home office."
Clara took out a yellow legal pad. "What tax papers?"
"Two weeks ago, I was looking for my camera in my dad's desk," Eli explained, his words rushing out now. "I found a folder hidden behind the safe. There were letters from a bank in Delaware and an eviction notice for our house. My dad hadn't paid the mortgage in eight months. The bank was going to seize the house on December first."
Clara’s pen stopped moving across the paper.
"Are you sure about that, Eli?" she asked carefully. "Your father works as a senior regional accountant for a logistics firm. He has a high income."
"He lost his job six months ago!" Eli declared, leaning across the table. "He didn't tell my mom! He was leaving the house every morning in a suit, but he was just sitting in his car at the public library! I confronted him about it two days before the fire. That’s why we argued! That’s why the neighbor heard me shouting!"
Clara stared at the thirteen-year-old boy sitting across from her. His face was pale, his eyes were bloodshot, but there was an absolute sincerity in his posture that made her lawyer's instincts spark.
"If the house was about to be foreclosed," Clara murmured to herself, "a total destruction fire would trigger the primary homeowner's insurance policy..."
"Two million dollars," Eli said flatly. "My mom told me last year that my grandfather set up a full replacement policy on the house before he passed away. My dad is the primary beneficiary."
Clara sat back in her chair, her mind rapidly calculating the structural reality of the case.
"Eli," Clara said sternly. "Why did your brother say he saw you with a lighter?"
Eli looked down at his lap, a single tear escaping his eye and splashing onto his cotton trousers.
"Because Evan is weak," Eli choked out, his voice filled with a mixture of heartbreak and fierce protective grief. "Whenever my dad gets angry, Evan does whatever he says to keep the peace. My dad told him what to say, and Evan was too terrified to say no."
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Clara closed her yellow notepad and stood up, smoothing her jacket.
"I'm going to file an emergency motion for a secondary forensic inspection of Mr. Carter's financial records," Clara declared firmly. "Hold tight, Eli. We are going to fight this."
