Gone was Sophia in stained jeans, smelling of gravy and shame. Gone was the single mother who bowed her head under the weight of insults at Christmas dinner.
I was wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal suit. My hair was pulled back in a severe bun. And draped over my shoulders, like a superhero’s cape, was my black judicial robe.
I walked toward the witness stand, my heels clicking rhythmically on the marble floor with terrifying authority. The courtroom fell into a vacuum of shock.
