There was no mention of the absence of fingerprints, no mention of the alibi, and no mention of the anonymous tip that had led to Isaiah being stopped in the first place. Judge Tolbert nodded along as everything moved quickly, too quickly.
Then Elijah stood calmly. "Your Honor, may I cross-examine the officer?"
A flicker of surprise crossed Tolbert's face. "You may."
The officer stepped forward. Officer Paul Haskins was a large man of about forty-five, with the build of a linebacker and a voice made for radio. He looked down at Elijah as though the boy were a science experiment.
"State your name for the record," Elijah said.
Haskins frowned. "Are you serious?"
"Your name, please."
A few people in the back rows tensed. Elijah's tone was not rude. It was simply different. He was not pleading. He was conducting an examination.
"Haskins. Paul Haskins."
"You said you saw my brother inside the vehicle with the stolen property."
"Yeah. Flat-screen television in the back seat, two laptops. I pulled him over after I received the tip."
"This tip. Did you log it?"
"No."
"You also said he ran."
"He tried. I stopped him."
Elijah opened one of his files. "Then how do you explain this?"
He held up a photograph showing Isaiah facedown and handcuffed, with Officer Haskins kneeling beside him. The image was timestamped five minutes before the traffic stop was officially recorded.
The courtroom stirred. Haskins blinked. Judge Tolbert leaned forward.
"Where did you get that?" the judge asked.
"From a neighbor's doorbell camera. The arrest did not happen during the stop. It happened before the recorded stop. That means the official timeline is false and raises the issue of an unlawful seizure."
Just like that, the temperature in the room changed.
The silence did not last. It cracked when Officer Haskins muttered, "I must have gotten the time wrong."
Elijah did not blink. "So your official report is wrong, your body camera was off, and you did not record the anonymous tip."
Tolbert interrupted. "Let us keep the tone respectful, Mr. Carrington."
Elijah nodded. "Of course, Your Honor. I am only trying to reach the truth."
People shifted in their seats, and whispers moved like wind between the rows. A few spectators who had arrived expecting entertainment now sat straighter. This was no longer funny.
Elijah picked up a second folder. "I would also like to submit a sworn statement from Mrs. Wanda Freeman, the homeowner whose house was allegedly burglarized."
Judge Tolbert glanced at the document. "You had her sign this yourself?"
"Yes, sir. Yesterday afternoon."
"And what does she say?"
"She says nothing was missing. She found her television exactly where she had left it. The door was closed, and there were no signs of forced entry."
Andrea Lindholm rose quickly. "Your Honor, this was not provided during discovery."
Elijah responded without hesitation. "She was never interviewed by police. I found her on my own."
Tolbert raised an eyebrow. "How did you get her to speak with you?"
"I asked politely," Elijah replied.
A couple of people chuckled, this time not at Elijah but with him. The judge scanned the statement.
"She confirms that Isaiah was not inside her home," Tolbert said. "She says she did not see him at all that day. She learned that someone had been arrested in connection with her house only after reading the local newspaper."
Tolbert's eyes narrowed. His smirk had disappeared. Now he was thinking.
The courtroom door creaked open as someone slipped inside late. It was Mr. Klein, the town's unofficial court watcher, retired, curious, and always carrying a notepad. He whispered to a woman in the back row, "What is happening?"