Part Five: What Nolan Said
The courtroom went completely silent.
Mr. Carroway turned around with an expression of polite surprise. The court reporter’s fingers stopped moving. The bailiff, a heavyset man by the door, took one step forward and then stopped.
Grant finally looked at his son. For the first time all morning.
Judge Halloway took off her reading glasses.
“Young man,” she said. “What’s your name?”
“Nolan Bellamy,” he said. “I’m eight.”
“Nolan,” the judge said gently. “Usually children don’t speak in this courtroom. Usually I talk to them privately, in my office, if I need to hear from them.”
Nolan nodded.
“I know,” he said. “But that picture is about me. And it’s not true. So I want to say what’s true.”
Mr. Carroway stood up quickly.
“Your Honor,” he said, “I’d object. The child is clearly under emotional strain. Anything he says here will reflect his mother’s influence.”
Judge Halloway held up one hand without looking at him.
“Mr. Carroway,” she said. “I’ll decide what reflects what.”
She turned back to Nolan.
