After my stepfather injured my twin sister and me, he brought us to the hospital. My mother calmly told the doctor, “They just fell down the stairs.” My stepfather smiled, thinking he had won. But as the nurse checked my vitals, I slipped a handwritten note into her pocket, and…

straight, refusing to shrink back into the leather witness chair. I looked at the lawyer, then let my gaze sweep over the jury.

“No, sir,” I answered, my voice carrying clearly to the back of the gallery. “What is abnormal is requiring a digital wiretap just to survive a family dinner without suffering a concussion.”

A heavy, breathless silence descended continue reading …