The judge nodded.
Caleb spoke from the clerk’s table.
“There may already be a copy.”
Everyone turned toward him.
He pointed to Nicole’s phone.
“Most home security systems sync clips to an account.
Deleting them from the camera does not always delete the cloud copy.”
My father rose halfway from his chair.
“Why is a mechanic conducting this hearing?”
The bailiff put a hand on his shoulder and guided him back down.
“Sit.”
Two Highway Patrol officers entered minutes later.
One carried a tablet.
The other spoke quietly with the judge, then approached Caleb and took custody of the severed brake hose.
Officer Medina introduced herself and explained that she had inspected my car on the trailer outside.
“The front brake hose shows a straight incision inconsistent with impact damage or normal failure,” she said.
“The cut surface is fresh.
We also found partial smearing in the fluid near the wheel well, suggesting someone handled the area after the line was cut.”
Mother’s attorney asked whether fingerprints had been recovered.
“Not yet,” Officer Medina said.
“The vehicle will be processed.”
My father folded his arms.
“Then you have no proof connecting us to anything.”
The second officer looked up from the tablet.
“We may have video.”
Nicole made a broken sound.
The digital evidence technician had accessed the security account linked to her phone.
A motion-activated clip had been uploaded shortly after 11:00 the previous night.
The officer connected the tablet to the courtroom monitor.
A black-and-white image appeared on the screen.
My parents’ driveway.
My car sat beneath the upstairs window.
The timestamp read 11:18 p.m.
Nicole entered the frame carrying a small tool bag.
My father followed her with a flashlight.
No one moved in the courtroom.
On the recording, Nicole knelt beside my front wheel.
My father angled the light downward.
After several seconds, she reached beneath the car with a pair of cutters.
The microphone was faint, but their voices were audible.
“Are you sure?” Nicole asked.
My father answered, “Your mother said it only needs to delay her.”
Nicole hesitated.
“What if Lily is in the car?”
My father looked toward the house.
“Sarah always drops her at school first.”
My stomach turned.
They had not known Lily would be with me.
But they had known I would be driving.
The distinction offered no comfort.
The video continued.
Nicole squeezed the cutters.
She wiped the tool on a rag, stood, and handed it to my father.
Before they left the frame, Mother’s voice came through an open window.
“Did you do it?”
My father answered, “It’s done.”
