Chapter 7 - The Witness Stand
Mark walked up to the witness stand as if marching toward an executioner's block. He raised his right hand, swore to tell the truth, and sat down in the wooden chair.
His attorney, Richard Vance, attempted damage control first.
"Mr. Bennett," Vance said, stepping up to the podium with a tight, nervous smile. "To clarify for the court... when you filled out those adherence sheets, were you intentionally trying to deceive Dr. Patel?"
"No! Absolutely not," Mark said, his voice cracking slightly before he cleared his throat. "I... I mismanaged the schedule. I work long hours as an executive. I relied on Miss Sinclair to help manage Lily’s day-to-day routine during my weekends. I believed the patch was being applied at different times during the day."
"So when you signed those initials, you were acting on the assumption that the treatment had been completed later in the evening?" Vance led gently.
"Yes," Mark seized the lifeline desperately. "Yes, exactly. I thought they did it while I was in my home office taking client calls. It was an honest miscommunication between Brooke and me."
Vance nodded with satisfaction. "Thank you. No further questions."
Margaret Wells stood up slowly. She didn't walk to the podium. She walked directly to the center of the courtroom floor, holding a single sheet of paper in her hand.
"Mr. Bennett," Margaret began softly. "You just testified under oath that you believed the patching was happening later in the evening while you were in your home office. Is that correct?"
Mark swallowed hard. "Yes."
"I direct your attention to Exhibit G-4," Margaret said, placing a printed document on the witness stand in front of him. "This is a text message exchange between you and Mrs. Bennett dated October 19th at 2:14 PM."
Margaret read the text aloud for the record:
"Mrs. Bennett: 'Hi Mark, just checking in to make sure Lily is doing her patch time from 1:00 to 3:00 PM as scheduled.'" "Mr. Bennett’s reply at 2:16 PM: 'We are in the middle of family time. She doesn't need your micromanagement. The patch is handled. Stop harassing us.'"
Margaret looked up at Mark over her reading glasses. "Mr. Bennett, at 2:16 PM, when you texted my client assuring her 'the patch is handled,' where were you?"
Mark stared at the paper. "I... I was in the kitchen."
"You were in the kitchen," Margaret repeated flatly. "In fact, according to Miss Sinclair’s live video broadcast from that exact minute, you were standing right next to Miss Sinclair while Lily was rolling out cookie dough—unpatched. You were not in your home office, were you?"
Mark’s throat worked, but no sound came out.
"You were physically present in the room," Margaret continued relentlessly. "You watched your five-year-old daughter handle flour without her protective lenses. You watched Miss Sinclair stream it to fifty thousand people. And then you picked up your phone and lied to her mother."
"Objection!" Vance called out. "Argumentative!"
"Overruled," Judge Vance snapped instantly from the bench. "The witness will answer."
"I... I was trying to keep the peace," Mark stammered, sweat breaking out along his hairline. "Claire makes everything such a battle! If I told her we were doing something else, she would have started an argument!"
"So to avoid 'an argument,' you allowed your daughter's medical condition to regress twelve percent?" Margaret asked, her voice deadly sharp.
"I didn't think it was that serious!" Mark burst out, throwing his hands up in frustration. "It’s a sticker over an eye! She seemed fine! Brooke was trying to make her feel confident! My ex-wife treats Lily like a sick patient, and we wanted her to feel normal!"
"Normal?" Margaret picked up another exhibit. "Is it 'normal' to tell a five-year-old child that her medical device makes her 'look weird in pictures'?"
"I didn't say that!" Mark yelled. "Brooke might have said something offhand, but—"
"So Miss Sinclair did say it?" Margaret caught the admission instantly.
Mark froze. He looked toward the gallery where Brooke sat. Brooke’s face had drained of all color; her hands were shaking so violently she dropped her leather notebook onto the floor.
"Mr. Bennett," Margaret said, stepping closer to the witness stand. "Do you recognize this document?"
She handed him a printed excerpt from an Instagram comment thread dated November 2nd.
"Under a photograph of Lily at an outdoor restaurant without her patch," Margaret read aloud, "a user asked: 'Doesn't she need her patch?' Miss Sinclair replied: 'We don't let medical labels define her happiness.' And directly beneath Miss Sinclair’s reply, there is a 'like' from your verified personal profile."
Margaret looked into Mark’s eyes. "Did you 'like' that comment, Mr. Bennett?"
Mark stared at the printout. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again. The silence stretched for five agonizing seconds.
"Yes," Mark whispered.
"You liked a comment publicly affirming that your daughter's medically necessary treatment was being ignored for the sake of an online aesthetic," Margaret stated.
"I didn't read it carefully!" Mark pleaded, his voice rising into desperation. "I just hit the like button! I support my partner!"
"You supported your partner's aesthetic over your child's sight," Margaret said quietly. "No further questions, Your Honor."
Margaret walked back to our table and sat down calmly.
Judge Vance looked down at Mark from her bench. Her expression was terrifying in its absolute coldness.
May you like
"Mr. Bennett," Judge Vance said slowly. "You may step down."
Mark practically stumbled out of the witness stand, his face pale, his suit ruined by sweat, returning to his seat like a man who had just watched his entire life collapse around his ankles.
