I wanted to yell out my own objection to this so-called evidence. I knew for a fact that it was John Sampson and not some nameless police officer who carried Little Alex out that night, the night Christine had a photographer—a private investigator!—outside my house. No one had been in danger because we had acted judiciously and quickly. But the photos were allowed to speak for themselves, at least for the time being.

It got worse from there.

Anne Billingsley walked Christine through a series of misleading events related to my job, virtually putting words in her mouth. The charade concluded with the trip to Disneyland, which the lawyer dressed up as some horrible minefield of dangers for Little Alex, whom I “abandoned” to go searching through Southern California for a psychopath who could terrorize my family again.

Chapter 35

Chapter 35

THEN IT WAS MY TURN.

The time Ben spent interviewing me on the witness stand was the hardest and trickiest ordeal I’d ever faced, with the most at stake. He had coached me not to address the judge directly, but it was hard not to. My little boy’s future was in her hands, wasn’t it?

Judge June Mayfield. She looked to be about sixty, with a stiff beauty-shop kind of hairdo that was more middle-America 1950s than new-millennium Seattle. Even her name sounded old fashioned to me. As I sat in the witness chair, I wondered if Judge Mayfield had children. Was she divorced? Had she been through anything like this herself?

“I’m not here to say negative things about anyone,” I said slowly. Ben had just asked me if I had any concerns about Christine as a parent. “I just want to talk about what’s best for Alex. Nothing else matters.”

His nod and the pursing of his lips told me that was the right answer—or was the look merely for the judge’s benefit?

“Yes, absolutely,” he said. “So could you just please explain to the court how Alex Junior came to live with you for the first year and a half of his life?”

Sitting there on the stand, I had a direct sight line with Christine. That was good, I thought. I didn’t want to say anything here that I wasn’t willing to say to her face.

I explained as straightforwardly as I could that Christine hadn’t felt prepared to be with me or raise a child after what had happened in Jamaica. I didn’t need to dress it up. She had chosen not to stick around, period. She’d told me that she was “unfit” to bring up Alex. Christine had used that word, and I would never forget it. How could I?

“And how long would you say it was between Ms. Johnson’s abandonment —”

“Objection, Your Honor. He’s putting words into his client’s mouth.”

“Overruled,” said Judge Mayfield.