Counselor Ricardo smiled wider.
“No, Your Honor,” I said. “Not today.”
Alejandro laughed under his breath. “Of course not.”
I shifted my baby carefully and picked up the red folder from my bag. It was thick, labeled by date, tabbed in yellow, blue, and black. I had built it during midnight feedings, hospital contractions, and the weeks Alejandro thought I was too broken to think.
Counselor Ricardo saw it and chuckled. “A plea for mercy?”
I walked to the bench, placed it before the judge, and looked once at Alejandro.
“Your Honor,” I said, my voice steady, “this baby is not the reason I’m asking for protection — he is the proof.”…Alejandro fell back into his chair, his breathing heavy as he stared at the red folder on the judge’s bench. The courtroom was dead silent, save for the furious scribbling of the court reporter.
Ricardo tried to salvage what was left of his composure. He smoothed his tie, though sweat was visible at his hairline. “Your Honor, even if these financial irregularities exist, they are civil matters. They do not change the fact that my client is a fully capable provider, while Mrs. Mendoza is currently unemployed and lacks the resources to raise a child in a stable environment.”
The judge didn’t look up from the folder. He turned to the final, black-tabbed section.
“She isn’t unemployed,” the judge said softly, his voice cutting through the room like ice. “According to these certified disclosures from Varela Enterprises, Mrs. Mendoza has been retained as a senior consultant for the federal financial crimes division since last month. And as for resources…”
