"Since you refuse to admit it, let's have the victim himself tell us exactly what happened that day."
An elderly man's face appeared on the large screen. My hands, hanging at my sides, clenched into fists.
The man in the photograph was my grandfather.
"Sir, take a look at this person. Is he the same driver who hit you?"
The old man raised his trembling head and glanced at the face on the screen for barely a second before ducking away as though he'd been startled.
His voice shook as he spoke.
"Y-yes... he's the one who hit me."
The moment the words left his mouth, the courtroom erupted.
People leaped to their feet, pointing at me and hurling insults.
"What's there to argue about? Sentence that old bastard already! She's shielding a criminal, and she should go down too!"
"Since she's so determined to protect him, throw them both in prison!"
I ignored their curses. My gaze settled on the old man in the wheelchair, searching.
His pant legs hung empty, and bandages covered his body. He looked badly injured.
"Sir, did you truly see my grandfather behind the wheel when he hit you? With your own eyes?"
"Do you understand the consequences of fabricating evidence?"