They walked in like two action heroes, striding confidently to the table on their side of the room. As soon as Andrew and Jenn were seated and had spread out all their documents on the table, the courtroom doors opened again and there stood Richard Connelly, his son and his entire team of six attorneys, each of them calm, poised, and ready for business. The hospital team surveyed the room with laser-like eyes. Steve’s own gaze revolved around, locking onto Jenn’s eyes, and lingering there coldly for a moment before continuing.

So it began. The presiding judge opened the session and allowed both sides to start with an opening statement. Each went as Jenn expected; Andrew put up an impassioned appeal to the jury to present Jenn as an unwitting victim, and Bill presented St. Benedict’s staff and executives as victims of a slanderous scheme by the Walsh family to obtain loads of hospital money.

Then it was Jenn’s turn to give testimony. The judge called upon Andrew to present the prosecution’s case to the jury, and both Andrew and Jenn stood up from their seats slowly. As Jenn stood up, her head swayed slightly; she suddenly felt dizzy, but she couldn’t tell if it was just her mind tricking her body into being more nervous than she was. She took the stand awkwardly, and after being given the oath, she began to answer Andrew’s questions establishing the facts of the case.

By now, this was old hat: Jenn had become used to explaining everything that had happened to her quickly and succinctly, and here she was again, recounting the painful events of her recent past. For all the time’s she’d said it, it never got easier. Some days explaining the realization of her secret rapes and abortion was excruciatingly traumatic, and as she gazed out over her audience today — an audience that contained her former boyfriend, Steve, who was now taking sides with the perpetrators as far as Jenn could tell — she felt her chest seize with anxiety and pain thinking again about the details.

Andrew began questioning her gently, asking her to merely establish the facts of the case, no more than that. The prosecution had to present Jenn in a sympathetic light for the jury, but her story wrote itself in this way. None of Andrew’s questions were different than Jenn had answered for either of her media interviews, and Jenn sat calmly and spoke in as straight a voice as she could manage.

Between responses, Jenn watched Richard and Steve closely. They alternated between staring straight back at her with cold, unreadable facial expressions and whispering among themselves, perhaps in preparation for when the defense would get its chance on the stand. Steve sat erect in his chair, his stiff suit mirroring that of his father’s. Jenn had a premonition of the future; she could easily see Steve being in the exact same situation as his father one day. The thought shook her, and she shuddered on the stand.

Finally, Andrew concluded his questions, thanked his witness and rested the prosecution’s case; Jenn, too, stepped down from the stand and walked back to the table. When she sat back down next to Andrew, he gave her hand a secret squeeze under the table.

She smiled back at him meekly.

The defense had no questions for Jenn, but now it was time for Richard’s testimony on the stand. He stood up, adjusted his suit, tie, and strode to the front smoothly, gliding over the floor. After being administered the oath, he took his seat and gazed in anticipation toward Jenn, smiling maliciously at her. She stared back at him with a stern facial expression; she was disgusted to see him again. After gathering his papers together, Bill stood up to question his witness.

“Mr. Connelly,” he began, “how long has Ms. Walsh been a patient in your hospital?”

“A little more than four years.”

“What kind of treatment has she been receiving there?”

“We provided her with dialysis treatments several times a week until she abruptly switched to a different hospital after raising the allegations for which we are here today.”

“I see. Just dialysis? Nothing else?”

“No, sir.”

“How much do these treatments costs?”

“A typical hemodialysis treatment can cost up to $500, which ends up being around $75,000 per year.”

“That’s certainly a lot of money, possibly more money than the average middle-class family could afford to pay in medical bills.”

Andrew was tense to begin with, but this was an absurd statement to him. He stood and raised a hand to the judge. “Objection. Your Honor, that is conjecture.”

The judge allowed the defense to continue its questioning, albeit giving Bill a warning to hasten the process.

Bill continued. “Right. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I’d like to switch directions a little bit. Mr. Connelly has already told us that all patients have meticulous records kept for them by each doctor treating them. Mr. Connelly, I’d like you to read aloud the treatments Ms. Walsh received during the time period she is accusing Dr. Blake of inappropriate behavior.” Richard donned his reading glasses and scanned the chart. “Dialysis. Dialysis. Dialysis.” Down the paper read a single word with details of the amounts of medication used and the status of the patient.

“Is it safe to say, Mr. Connelly, that the only person convinced that anything other than regular dialysis treatments occurred is Ms. Walsh?”

“I would say so, yes, sir.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“Hmm. Mr. Connelly, what sort of effects can lupus have on a patient’s mental health?”

“Well, it can cause a wide range of anxiety or depression spectrum mental illnesses, but sometimes cognitive dysfunction — where the patient spaces out for a while — or in extreme cases, mild to severe memory loss, depending on the status of the disease.”

“Could it be possible that Ms. Walsh has developed mental delusions over the course of her diagnosis with lupus?” Richard nodded, knowing Bill would implore him to say his answer aloud into the microphone — and he did. Richard leaned right down into the microphone, locked eyes with Jenn and said firmly, “Yes. It is possible that she believes things happened that did not.”

Jenn felt her blood pressure rise immediately; her skin felt hot, and she clenched her fist so hard she broke the pencil she was holding in it. Andrew flinched at the sharp crack, but his blood was on fire, too. He shot her a look, and in both of their eyes was disbelief.

“Mr. Connelly, it’s my understanding that the plaintiff was in an intimate relationship with your son, Steve Connelly, is that right?”

Jenn could barely keep her mouth shut. How dare they use her relationship with Steve against her! She turned to look at Steve, but his expression was stone; there was nothing on his face to indicate what he was thinking. He only stared straight ahead at his father on the stand. Jenn could hardly believe it — his father was bringing their personal lives into this courtroom, and he wasn’t doing anything to stop it!

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Ladies and gentlemen, young Mr. Connelly here has declined to be a witness on the stand today, but he has talked to his father extensively, and Mr. Connelly here is bound to tell the truth under this court’s oath. So, Mr. Connelly, did you know your son and Ms. Walsh were in a sexual relationship?”

“No, not immediately.”

“What did your son tell you about the relationship?”

“He said Jenn asked him out on a date and was interested in something physical.”

Jenn’s mouth gaped open. Richard was telling a blatant lie on the stand — or if he wasn’t, and Steve had really told him that, then Steve was lying so Richard wouldn’t be. She couldn’t believe it. Her head snapped toward Steve, her face contorted in an angry glare, but like usual, Steve stared straight ahead, motionless. The only sign that he wasn’t a statue was his twiddling thumbs under the table. She nudged Andrew. “Can you believe this?” she whispered incredulously.

“No, I can’t,” he whispered back, and then stood up, pressing his palm into the table. “Objection. Your Honor, this is hearsay.”

“Objection overruled,” the judge said. “The witness has taken an oath to tell the truth.”

Jenn’s eyes widened. Her heart sank. She was so sure the jury would have no doubt about finding the hospital guilty, but now the judge was allowing evidence and testimony that made no sense and had no backing. She looked back up at Richard on the stand; every time she looked at him, he appeared to be staring right back at her, a knowing look on his face.

“Please continue, Mr. Connelly,” Bill said. “What else did your son say?”

“He mentioned Ms. Walsh’s eagerness to begin a sexual relationship. When everything was over and Dr. Blake was dead, she told him she had also had sex with him. It sounded to me as though Ms. Walsh had a certain reputation for it.” Richard crossed his arms and leaned back.

The jury members, as a collective group, had immediate reactions to this turn of events. Some had leaned forward; some had covered their mouth with their hands, while others stared wide-eyed at Richard or Jenn. At her table, she put her face in her hands.

“Furthermore, ladies and gentlemen,” Bill continued, taking advantage of the pause and the clear surprise on the faces of the jurors, “her behavior does not seem to be abnormal. It seems her family a history of sex work, particularly her older sister, Kenzie, who moonlighted as an escort two summers in Las Vegas during college.”

Now it was Jenn’s turn to be shocked. She turned around in her seat to stare at Kenzie sitting behind her. Her older sister had turned white, and felt the immense pressure of the entire courtroom suddenly turning to stare at her. She mouthed the first things she could think of at her sister: What? Is that true?

Kenzie shot a quick guilty glance in her direction.

Jenn was floored.

Bill paused briefly, waiting for the gasps to die down. He appeared very pleased with himself, and talked onward. “Is it a difficult stretch to say that if one Walsh woman was willing to put up her body through sexual stress to pay for college — oh yes, we have that documentation here for the judge and jury to peruse — is it a stretch to ask if one Walsh sister did it, the other one wouldn’t? What would stop a young lady with exorbitant medical bills to try to find a way to pay them off easier? What would stop a family from conspiring to steal as much money off the hospital as possible, knowing they could exploit the claim of sexual abuse and assault?

“As Ms. Walsh herself established at her attorney’s questioning this morning, her parents are not well-off. In fact, doing a background check on her parents indicates they have taken out a second mortgage on their house and have been consistently late on their car payments.”

Jenn was speechless. The hospital had clearly done its research and had no intentions of going about this lawsuit justly or with any tact. She shouldn’t have been surprised by the ruthlessness Richard showed, or by the aggressiveness of the attorneys, but she was disappointed and infuriated that Steve could sit there stone-faced and pretend everything was fine. Even if he was the hospital executive’s son, he knew the truth — and willfully chose to ignore it.

The first day of the trial over, Andrew and Jenn knew they had a tough battle to fight — it was not going to be as cut-and-dry as they’d expected. Andrew’s colleagues had warned him about this. It was his first time going up against a huge corporation, and his inexperience showed. The second day continued with further witnesses and testimony from the primary witnesses, with nothing more shocking than the bomb that Richard and his team dropped the first day. Now that the third, and final, day of the trial was here, it was up to the closing statements to convince the jury of anything.

Jenn walked into the room slowly; her energy was shot. She had felt light-headed that morning, despite having a large breakfast, and had to brace herself on the rows of seating as she walked to the table. Suddenly Jenn swayed and reached an unsteady hand out; she lost her balance and wobbled, falling heavily onto the floor in the aisle. The people around her gasped. Andrew, a few steps behind her, put his papers down and rushed to her, pulling her to her feet. “Are you okay?” he asked. “What happened?”

“I’m okay. I just... feel funny. Can you get me some juice?”

“There’s a vending machine outside; I’ll grab something there.” Andrew held Jenn’s waist and her free arm and led her to her seat, making sure she was sitting down before leaving again.

Jenn leaned back in her chair. Her head throbbed with a distant pain, and her whole body felt dizzy after her fall. Maybe she hadn’t had enough to drink that day — with her kidney failure, she needed to be especially careful of her liquid intake. When Andrew returned with a small bottle of orange juice, the ache dissipated briefly. She let out a quiet moan and shifted in her seat. One more day of sitting through this trial. She hoped her constant headache would be done after this, no matter the outcome.

The judge called the defense up first. Bill rolled off his haunches and stood up in front of the jury, clasping his hands together, looking solemn in front of the men and women who would decide this case.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he began, “you’ve heard quite a bit of testimony over the past several days, full of both fact and emotion, but when it comes down to it now, this is a simple case. It all comes down to a young woman who is very ill, burdened by a medical problem that plagues her life, and she is desperate to pay for all the treatment she receives. It’s hard for her family to pay for her bills: her parents have financial issues of their own. Her sister resorted to working in the sex industry to make it through college. Clearly, this is a family in a crisis.

“Ms. Walsh is further plagued by a disease that causes not only physical distress, but also wreaks havoc on her mental welfare. She tells a very compelling story. That’s precisely what this is: a story. The prosecution is unable to provide proof or evidence for the allegations that Ms. Walsh brings forth to this court.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you can see the incentive for Ms. Walsh to concoct such a story — wouldn’t you, if you thought there was monetary gain? She has a severe financial need and an overactive imagination spurred by the pity she receives from her friends and family. No one would dare question a sick girl who has to live in such a harsh reality, right? During her brief relationship with Steve Connelly, she discovered the wealth and generosity of his family.

“But she wasn’t satisfied with that. She still wanted more. When she was no longer receiving everything she wanted from the Connelly family’s generosity, she concocted this story with her legal team and presented it to you, the jury, with an agenda to pull the wool over your eyes.

“The only fact that the prosecution has presented is that Jenn Walsh is inflicted with a terrible disease. The Connelly family has tried to ease her suffering, but with the Walsh family’s history of immoral and reckless behavior, it soon became clear that Ms. Walsh was the one orchestrating this scheme, and Steve — along with the hospital — has been forced to rescind his support for her, and as we you know, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Thank you.”

A couple of jury members, whom Jenn had observed taking notes the entire trial, began scribbling furiously on their papers after Bill had finished talking. She, too, was scratching notes, more out of anger than to remember later. She felt dull, overwhelmed — she was naïve, and hadn’t expected this much of an attack on either her or her family for a case they should have easily won.

Bill walked back to his chair, a slight smile on his face. As soon as he was seated, Richard leaned over to him and began whispering in his ear — Bill’s smile grew. Jenn scowled at them. Steve still hadn’t moved at all.

Andrew was already sitting erect in his chair, waiting for the judge to call him to give his closing statement. Jenn, observing his nervousness, couldn’t resist sliding a gentle hand onto his thigh before he was called up. His leg was tensed up, the muscle tight, and she suddenly felt a rush of pride that someone so dedicated and passionate was on her side. He stood up the instant he was called, and Jenn flinched, recoiling her hand at the abrupt movement. Andrew’s chair screeched on the floor as he stood up.

The late afternoon sunlight was streaming in through a row of narrow windows at the top of the room, and Andrew’s shined shoes glinted in their light. Jenn took a deep breath for him, at the same time that he cleared his throat several times, taking a pause to consider his words carefully.

“Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard the defense’s side of the story, claiming that the only fact we know at all in this situation is that my client, Jenn Walsh, is ill. That part is true, but the defense is forgetting the facts of the case themselves as presented from the one person who knows them better than anyone: Jenn herself. The facts are that Jenn trusted her doctor, who betrayed and abused her and tried to kill and ruin her.

“The defense has painted a portrait completely contrary to these facts. The Walsh family is a hardworking family, struggling to stay strong and united in the face of some very unfortunate events that have occurred. Her parents have taken financial responsibility for everything they could, and yes, they have needed help at times, but they are in the same situation as many middle-class families. Her sister overcame a financial struggle of her own when she was getting her education, and it paid off now, because she has her own business and has a stable life.

“But this case is not about Jenn’s family; it is about her. It is about her suffering, her triumphs, and her redemption. This is not about the money for her. It is about getting her story out there and preventing this from happening to anyone else. It is about standing up to corporate greed and rape apologists. St. Benedict, Richard Connelly, these men sitting at this table here, they wanted her to hide behind her secret to save their own business and reputations. They thought Jenn must be removed from the picture, silenced, and covered up out of their own interest. They wanted to destroy any evidence of any wrongdoing.

“But Jenn is a living, breathing piece of evidence. Why should her word get discredited because of her family’s actions or her relationship with hospital staff? The fact remains that she was sexually abused, impregnated, given an abortion and the target of a murder, and subsequent cover-up.”

Andrew was in his stride now. As he was talking, he had discarded his suit coat on his chair, and he had rolled up his sleeves halfway up his arms. Jenn’s heart beat faster, nearly double the click of his shoes on the wood floor as he paced back and forth in front of the jury, pausing for effect now and then. Her hands clasped tightly between her legs under the table.

“I can only present so much to you, ladies and gentlemen; the onus is on you to make this decision. The only place in the world that makes every single person equal is here in this court of law. It is both a blessing and a curse that anyone can bring a case in here based in evidence — or in some cases, lack thereof. I can present to you the case of a young woman. She is a real-life person whose life has been turned upside down by the actions of this hospital. Then let you decide on your own what action to take: to listen to hate mongering by a corporation with all the power in its hands, or to understand the suffering of a woman who should be given a chance. I trust that you will make the right choice. Thank you.”