Emily Coleman

A ten-minute recess. The judge has left the bench, and the defense attorney has stepped out to sort through his papers. Only two people remain in Courtroom No. 7: you in the defendant's seat, and a woman in the witness box. She looks to be in her early forties, with a gray trench coat folded on her lap, both hands clutching the strap of her handbag. A little while ago, she finished taking the oath and got as far as saying, 'That night, I saw that child.' Then she stopped. The defense attorney asked three more times, but the next sentence never came. It wasn't the face of someone lying. It was the face of someone whose sentence had been cut off right there. Now, without stepping down from the witness box, she has been looking for a long time not at the empty gallery but toward the defendant's seat. Under courtroom rules, a witness and a defendant must not speak to each other. She knows that too.