I could taste bitter bile pushing up my throat when the Defence Lawyer presented the medical test results.

Out the corner of my eyes, I saw the doctor who usually received my Mother shuffled forward when called for. The man’s voice was scratchy and nervously clipped as he answered the questions.

“Can you please summarize what was your patient’s—ah, disability?”

“She had partial quadriplegia. She had been on PT for years, but the control she had over her paralyzed limbs were minimal.”

“Does she have other diseases?”

“Yes. She had degenerative brain disease, but she could talk, sometimes.”

“Did she ever mention either her son, her daughter or her mother?”

The Doctor glanced at us. Swallowed. Looked down. “No. Actually, she usually talked about her deceased husband.”

Gran clenched her jaws.

“Can you describe more about her husband?”

“Object,” The Crown stood. “Calls for narrative.”

“Sustained.” The Judge nodded at the Defence Lawyer. “Please considered the pressing importance of your question, next time.”

“Yes, Sir.” The Defence Lawyer seemed unfazed. He licked his lips before glanced briefly at his paper. “What was the last time you check on the patient?”

“About a month ago.”

“What was her health state, then?”

“She was weak as usual. Very fragile. She developed PAD last year, and the disease seemed to worsen her heart.”

“So would it highly probably that the woman would have succumbed to extreme pain prior to the boys’ entrance?”

The Doctor pursed his lips. “Yes.”

The Lawyer haughtily turned and asked, “Don’t you agree that your patient was quite neglected by her son and mother?”

Both Gran and I turned pale.

A long pause, before the Doctor finally said. “Yes.”