"Permission to present evidence!"

Willow pulled out a USB drive and started playing a video for the court.

The footage was obviously edited—every clip showed me pushing an electric scooter into the apartment hallway.

"Your Honor, members of the jury," Willow said, "this video was recorded one month before the fire. As you can see, Jade Pruitt pushed an electric scooter into the hallway every single night. According to the fire investigation report, that very scooter was the point of ignition."

She paused for effect.

"This video is conclusive evidence that Jade Pruitt's illegal charging caused the fire."

She shot me a smug look and silently mouthed: You're dead.

The jury erupted into whispers.

"The plaintiff's evidence is compelling."

"From this footage, Pruitt is clearly the prime suspect."

"I actually felt bad for her earlier when she gave that speech—turns out she was just playing the victim. Shameless."

The murmuring swelled until it felt like the verdict had already been decided.

These people!

I clenched my jaw. They only saw what Willow wanted them to see. Did no one notice the glaring problems with this so-called evidence?

"Your Honor, I object!"

Willow's voice turned sharp. "Jade Pruitt, the facts are right in front of you. You don't get to object."

"And don't bother with another theatrical speech. This is a courtroom—we deal in evidence here, not moral grandstanding."

"Funny," I shot back. "You also know this is a place that deals in evidence."

I turned to the judge. "Your Honor, I request permission to question several inconsistencies in the plaintiff's evidence."

"Granted."

I faced Willow, ignoring her sneer. "First question: What makes you certain the scooter in that video is mine?"

She laughed like I'd said something absurd. "Are you stupid? Do I really need to answer that? Anyone with eyes can tell."

"If it wasn't yours, why would you push it into the hallway every day?"

The jurors nodded along.

Yeah—if it wasn't hers, why would she do that? She had no reason to.

"Just to avoid admitting guilt, she asks something this idiotic. Hopeless."

"A woman in her twenties, and she treats human lives like nothing."

"Some people look clean on the outside, but their hearts rotted long ago."

I ignored their remarks and spoke firmly.

"I'm not stupid, and this isn't a stupid question."

"Because that scooter couldn't possibly be mine."

The jurors exploded.

"Hopeless! Absolutely hopeless!"

"Your Honor, I request her sentence be increased!"

"Agreed. Someone this shameless, this unwilling to admit guilt—she needs a harsher punishment to learn respect for the law."

"Order!"

The judge frowned at me. "Defendant, you claim the scooter isn't yours. Do you have evidence to support that?"

Before I could answer, Willow cut in. "She's going to say she never bought one—but my husband and I both saw her with it."

"That's right!" Dylan nodded eagerly. "I saw her ride that scooter home from work multiple times. I even asked when she got it, and she said she'd just bought it."

I let out a cold laugh. "If you'd actually seen what you claim, you wouldn't be here today lying under oath."

I wasn't going to waste breath arguing. This was easy enough to verify.

I looked at Willow coldly. "Second question: the angle of your video doesn't show what I did after pushing the scooter into the hallway. So on what basis are you claiming I was charging it?"

"Do you even need to ask? If you weren't charging it, what else would you be doing?"

Willow's tone was completely matter-of-fact.

"Exactly." Dylan chimed in. "Why else would you haul that scooter into the hallway every single day?"

"I moved it because it was a safety hazard," I said coldly. "That building has a lot of kids. The scooter was parked right at the entrance—one wrong step and a child could get hurt."

Willow snorted. "Jade, you really know how to make yourself look good."

Dylan's mockery cut deeper. "The way you talk, we should build you a shrine. Saint Jade, savior of children."

The jurors weren't buying it either.

"Stop with the sophistry. Nobody here is an idiot. No one believes that high-minded nonsense."

"The facts are clear. Your illegal charging caused the fire."

"Plead guilty now, and the court might show leniency."

I was so angry I almost laughed.

"It wasn't me. Why would I plead guilty?"

"You keep talking about facts, about truth—but do you actually know the truth? Be careful you're not being used as someone's pawn and destroying your own credibility."

That struck a nerve. The jurors' expressions soured.

"Used as pawns? Are you questioning our professionalism?"

"If you really weren't responsible, would the plaintiffs—whose lives you saved—actually frame you?"

"Hmph. You just want to escape justice."

The judge fixed me with a stern look. "Defendant, do you have anything else to state?"

Seeing everyone on their side, Willow and Dylan exchanged a glance and smiled.

I spoke up. "Your Honor, the plaintiff's evidence is questionable. I request acquittal."

"Of course, if she can produce evidence proving that scooter is mine, and that I actually charged it illegally after moving it inside, I'll plead guilty."

The moment I finished, Willow's voice exploded through the courtroom.

"There are witnesses! There's physical evidence! What more doubt is there?" She jabbed a finger at me. "You just think an old couple like us is easy to bully!"

Then she burst into loud, heaving sobs.

"Why is my life so bitter? We were living peacefully, and then—fire. Everything gone. And now the person responsible won't even admit it because we're old." Her voice cracked. "I... I don't want to live anymore!"

She lunged toward the corner of the table.

"Ma'am, don't!" Dylan grabbed her, then whipped around to glare at me. "We've got one foot in the grave already—why would we frame you? We just want what we're owed. You keep refusing to admit guilt—are you trying to kill us?"

The jurors piled on.

"This is infuriating. How can anyone be this heartless?"

"Look what you've driven these elderly people to. Do you have any conscience?"

"A woman like you belongs in prison. Letting you walk free endangers everyone."

I let them rage, faces red, voices hoarse, hurling accusations. I didn't say a word. I just watched Willow and Dylan's performance in silence.

"A courtroom runs on evidence," I said finally. "Not theatrics. And certainly not on whoever cries the loudest."

After saying that, I turned to the judge.

"Your Honor, the plaintiff has no other evidence to prove my guilt, but I have definitive proof that the electric scooter isn't mine."

The judge nodded. "Defendant, please present your evidence."

I pulled out test reports from multiple hospitals.

"Your Honor, please look. I have a congenital balance perception disorder. I physically cannot control any two-wheeled vehicle—I never learned to ride one, and I certainly never bought an electric scooter."

I paused to let that sink in.

"And in the video the plaintiff provided, the scooter at the first ignition point is a two-wheeler."

Smack!

I slammed the reports down hard on the table.

"The facts speak for themselves. That scooter isn't mine. These reports prove it!"