Chapter 2 - The Camera Never Lies

The prosecutor’s question hung in the air like a poisoned blade. Toby looked helplessly toward his father. Mark surged halfway out of his seat, shouting hoarsely, ""Leave him alone! He doesn't know anything about the truck!""
""Order! Mr. Jensen, one more outburst and I will have bailiffs remove you to a holding cell!"" Judge Vance hammered his gavel once, the hardwood crack resonating like a pistol shot.
Toby flinched at the sound, taking a half-step backward until defense attorney Robert Hayes caught his shoulder with a steadying hand. Hayes leaned down, murmuring reassurance, then straightened up to address the court. ""Your Honor, the prosecution is badgering a traumatized six-year-old. The defense concedes Mr. Jensen's vehicle was spotted near Pier 17, but we have maintained from day one that the truck was stolen hours prior to the break-in.""
""A convenient claim without a single stolen vehicle report filed until dawn,"" Croft fired back, gesturing sharply toward the jury box. ""A desperate cover-up concocted after the crime went south.""
Judge Vance raised a heavy palm, silencing the opposing counsel. He leaned over the bench, gaze softening slightly as he looked at the boy. ""Toby. Did anyone else visit your house that night? Think very carefully.""
Toby rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling. ""Nobody came inside. But... I heard the gate. The iron gate by the driveway always squeaks when someone pushes it hard.""
""What time was that, son?"" Vance asked.
""Right after the rain started,"" Toby said softly. ""Daddy was reading me the story about the boy and the wolf. He heard the truck start outside. He ran to the window, and he cursed. He told me to lock the bedroom door and stay under the blankets.""
A murmur rippled through the spectators. Croft scoffed audibly, tapping the microphone on his podium. ""And yet, inside the suspect's vehicle, investigators recovered a black canvas duffel containing jewelry and cash, along with a work glove stained with Mr. Jensen's sweat and the victim's blood.""
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Mark groaned, dropping his face into his hands. Toby froze, his hazel eyes locking onto the dark plastic bag displayed on the prosecution table.
""Wait,"" Toby stammered, his small voice cutting through the gallery's whispers. ""That glove... that isn't Daddy's.""