Chapter 5 - The Test of Courage
Courtroom 4B was packed to capacity. Local journalists, legal observers, and members of the community filled the wooden pews. In the front row on the defense side sat Bellamy’s two nephews—the defendants—wearing expensive suits that failed to mask the thuggish aura resting on their heavy shoulders. Behind our side sat Bear and four designated representatives of the Iron Guardians, their presence quiet, respectful, yet imposing.
Judge Harrison, a stern, gray-haired woman with decades on the bench, banged her gavel. "Call your next witness, State."
"The State calls Caleb Whitaker," Evelyn Reed announced clearly.
A quiet murmur rippled through the room as I pushed Caleb forward to the witness stand. The court bailiff lowered the microphone so it aligned with Caleb’s mouth, and held up the Bible. Caleb placed his small, translucent hand on the leather cover and swore to tell the truth.
Evelyn stepped up to the podium, her tone warm and encouraging. She walked Caleb through the basics: his age, his school, his diagnosis, and why we were at the convenience store on Route 33 three weeks ago.
"Caleb," Evelyn asked gently, "can you tell the court what you saw while sitting in your mother’s car that night?"
Caleb looked out at the jury—twelve men and women watching him with rapt attention. "I saw two men arguing with the man who works at the store. Then a third man came from around the side of the building. They started pushing him."
"And what happened next?"
"The man on the ground dropped his keys," Caleb said, his voice carrying clearly through the silent room. "He reached down, and the big man in the green jacket kicked him in the face. Then the other man started hitting him with a metal bar while he was down."
"Caleb," Evelyn said, turning toward the defense table. "Do you see those men who attacked the store clerk in this courtroom today?"
"Objection!" the defense attorney, Victor Vance, barked, slamming his hand down. "The witness is a minor undergoing intense medical treatments that alter cognitive function!"
"Overruled," Judge Harrison stated firmly. "The witness may answer."
Caleb raised his right hand, his small, thin arm steady as a steel rod, and pointed his finger directly at Bellamy’s two nephews. "The one on the left kicked him. The one on the right hit him with the bar."
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"Thank you, Caleb. Your witness," Evelyn said, stepping back.
Victor Vance stood up, adjusting his thousand-dollar tie, a wolfish smile on his face as he approached the witness stand. He intended to break a ten-year-old boy in front of a jury.
