“Mrs. Prescott, did you ever authorize this woman to speak with your doctors or handle your private information?” the judge asked. I said no with a voice that felt steadier than I ever thought possible in such a high pressure environment.
I realized that Harrison could no longer silence me or tell me that I was overreacting to his cruelty. He could not turn the car around or lock me out of the bedroom for daring to have an opinion of my own.
The judge placed his hands on the mahogany bench and stated that he had initially believed this was a routine divorce case. “I was mistaken, as this is clearly a matter of extreme coercive control and potential fraud,” he said.
Harrison’s lawyer closed his eyes for a second, and that tiny sign of defeat gave me the strength to keep my head held high. The judge then ordered the bailiff to document the assault that had taken place right in front of the court’s eyes.
Tiffany began to panic and claimed that I had provoked her into hitting me, but the judge was having none of it. “She is heavily pregnant and you struck her in a court of law,” he said while looking at her with pure disdain.