The courtroom was silent. A heavy stillness pressed against the walls, and the air felt thick with tension—the kind that made even the softest rustle of paper sound like thunder. All eyes were fixed on a small figure in the witness box: a seven-year-old boy. His hands trembled as he held the wooden railing. His face was pale, and his wide eyes nervously scanned the room.
The judge leaned forward and asked gently but firmly, “Do you understand why you’re here today, Ethan?”
The boy nodded, lips quivering. Slowly, he raised his small hand and pointed directly at the police officer sitting in the front row. The officer’s face tightened, his jaw clenching as the boy’s finger stayed fixed on him. It’s him,” Ethan whispered, his voice barely louder than a breath. “He’s the one who hurt my mom.” The room exploded in gasps. The officer jumped to his feet, his chair screeching across the floor. The judge slammed her gavel down, but the…..Read Full Story Here……………………………
