Chapter 8 - Maya’s Voice
Over the next three weeks, the battle shifted from my estate to the cold, marble courtrooms of the state judicial circuit.
Isla’s high-priced defense attorneys attempted every legal trick in the book. They claimed the camera footage was tampered with, that I had manufactured the entire scenario to avoid a costly divorce, and even tried to argue that Isla was suffering from severe postpartum psychosis despite not being Toby's biological mother.
But Attorney Vance was relentless.
During the preliminary hearing, the defense attempted to prevent Maya from testifying or providing a deposition, claiming an eight-year-old was not a competent witness.
The judge, a formidable woman named Honorable Judge Mercer, reviewed the medical reports and the cloud footage in her private chambers for three hours. When she returned to the bench, her face was carved from dark granite.
"The court finds the video evidence fully admissible and deeply disturbing," Judge Mercer declared, slamming her gavel down. "Furthermore, in light of the defendant's documented attempts to manipulate the child's psychological record, I am ordering a full video deposition of the minor child, conducted by a court-appointed child advocate, to be introduced into the criminal trial."
Two days later, we sat in a quiet, warmly lit interview room at the Children's Advocacy Center.
Maya sat in a small armchair across from Dr. Evans, a kind, soft-spoken child psychologist. I sat behind a one-way mirror in the observation room alongside Julian and Detective Miller, watching my daughter tell her story.
"Maya," Dr. Evans said gently, holding a notebook. "Can you tell me about the dark room?"
Maya held her cloth doll tightly in her lap. Her small voice carried clearly through the speaker system.
"Isla called it the quiet box," Maya said softly, her eyes looking down at her shoes. "Whenever Toby cried because he was hungry, or whenever I dropped something, she would take away my shoes and put me inside the pantry. She told me if I made any noise, she would send Toby away to a place where I would never see him again."
In the observation room, I squeezed my eyes shut, my fists clenching until my nails bit into my palms.
"Did she ever tell you not to tell your daddy?" Dr. Evans asked.
"Every day," Maya whispered. "She said Daddy was very busy making money, and if I bothered him with silly stories, he would stop loving us and leave us alone in the house with her forever. So I tried to be good. I tried to warm the milk so Toby wouldn't cry..."
Her voice broke, and small tears began to spill down her cheeks. "I'm sorry I dropped the bottle, Dr. Evans. It was just so heavy."
May you like
Dr. Evans leaned forward, handing Maya a tissue. "You didn't do anything wrong, Maya. You were trying to protect your brother. You are a very brave little girl."
Behind the glass, Detective Miller turned to me, his jaw set in a hard line. "That deposition just locked the door on Isla's defense. She's going away for a long time, Gideon."
