“I had half of an hour of screen time allotted to me today. They called to let me know they’re bringing other people on. Now I have seven minutes. They want to leave room for us to debate and to let you say your piece.”

I smiled a little. “You brought her family into it, Mr. Nieves.”

“I would say she brought them into it by a campaign of extortion. They’re small, vulnerable people in a world with terrible giants that exploit or compound vulnerabilities.”

“A terrible giant,” Ashley said, her voice dry. She indicated Lookout, who was all of four-foot-ten and seventy-five pounds.

Gary looked nettled.

“Hi,” Lookout said.

“I think I’ll wait elsewhere.”

“You should know my parents are not good people. If they sound sweet and convincing to you, they’re just messing with you. They’re really good at it. Kind of.”

“Excuse me,” he said.

“Um!” Lookout interrupted, with a loudness and urgency that seemed to catch him off guard.

He frowned.

“Um. This isn’t that easy for me, but would you like to see the proof?”

“You falsify evidence. Multiple sources, some ex-PRT, have confirmed this.”

“I can falsify video, because I’m a camera tinker. Falsifying audio is a lot harder. I’ve never been able to do it. Here.”

“I’m not—” he started.

The video began playing. Audio. A sound like a single clap, a book being closed. Then a crash. Dishes breaking. A man’s raised voice, muffled.

“April twenty first, first year,” Kenzie’s voice came through. “Meet my parents, Mr. Julien Martin and Mrs. Irene Martin. Episode three.”

“This is moronic,” Nieves said.

There were more impacts that could be heard over the audio from her phone. Footsteps. Even though they only existed on the phone, Lookout’s shoulders drew together a fraction.

“Kanzi,” Julien said. There were more distant crashes.

“I’m—I’m Kenzie now. Please, I—”

“Stop,” he said. “Stop talking, stop interfering, stop interjecting yourself into things.”

“I filled the dishwasher. To help out!”

“You filled it wrong, and coming home to find it done is a reminder that you’re here. Why are you here? Why come to us?”

“Because you kind of—” there was a pause, a horrendous crash like the whole dishwasher rack had been torn out. “You guys gave birth to me in the first place, and I wasn’t sure where to go.”

“Kanzi, you—”

“Kenzie.”

“Kanzi!” he raised his voice, angry now. “Stop talking back. You left. You told stories and we were sentenced probation, community service, classes, we spent time in jail.”

“I told the truth.”