Chapter 6 - The Restraining Order HearingTwo weeks later, we stood in the Denver County Courthouse for the permanent restraining order hearing.
The courtroom was cold and smelled of old paper and polished wood. I sat next to Clara at the plaintiff's table, dressed in a sharp navy suit that covered my stitches. Across the aisle sat Diego, flanked by two high-priced defense attorneys. Behind him sat Victoria and Richard, looking at me with pure, unadulterated arrogance.
Diego looked different. The swagger was gone, replaced by a tense, nervous energy. He was wearing an expensive suit, but his collar seemed too tight.
"Your Honor," Diego's lead attorney, a slick man named Mr. Vance, began. "This is a simple case of a marital spat that got out of hand. My client, a respected member of the community, had an emotional reaction during a heated discussion about family planning. The injury to the plaintiff, while unfortunate, was completely accidental. A permanent restraining order is an extreme measure that would severely damage Mr. Diego’s professional reputation."
The judge, a formidable woman named Judge Higgins, looked over her glasses. "And how does your client explain the shattered ceramic plate and the deep laceration on the plaintiff’s scalp requiring eight stitches, Mr. Vance?"
"An accidental slip, Your Honor," Vance lied smoothly. "The plaintiff was waving her hands aggressively, and the plate was knocked out of my client's hand."
Clara stood up, her voice ringing clear through the courtroom. "Your Honor, if I may."
She connected her tablet to the courtroom projector. Suddenly, a large, high-definition photograph of my head wound filled the screens. The raw, bloody cut and the black stitches were displayed in gruesome detail.
Next, Clara played an audio recording.
"What is this?" Judge Higgins asked.
"This is a recording from the smart-home device in the dining room of the Cherry Hills estate," Clara said. "It was automatically activated when the decibel level in the room spiked."
Diego’s attorney stood up. "Objection! This is unauthorized surveillance!"
"Overruled," Judge Higgins snapped. "I want to hear it."
The audio played. Diego's voice boomed through the speakers: “How dare you say no to my mother, you ungrateful woman!” followed by the terrifying, explosive smash of the plate, and my gasp of pain. Then, the chilling silence of the room.
The courtroom fell dead silent. Diego slumped in his chair, his face turning an ash-gray.
"Furthermore, Your Honor," Clara continued, "we have an eyewitness who is prepared to testify."
Natalie stepped forward, taking the stand. Despite her husband Julian’s furious glares from the gallery, she spoke clearly and truthfully, describing the deliberate nature of Diego’s attack and the complete lack of remorse from the family.
Judge Higgins did not hesitate. She slammed her gavel down.
"The evidence is overwhelming," Judge Higgins declared. "The court hereby grants a permanent, five-year protection order. Mr. Diego is ordered to stay at least 1,000 feet away from Valerie, her home, her workplace, and her family. Any violation of this order will result in immediate arrest and federal prosecution."
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As we walked out of the courtroom, Victoria intercepted me in the hallway. Her face was twisted in a snarl. "You think you've won, you little upwardly mobile peasant? We will drag this divorce out for years. We will drain you of every cent you have. You will leave this marriage with absolutely nothing."
I looked at her, tilting my head slightly. "Victoria, I think you should check your husband’s email. Because by this afternoon, his company is going to have a very busy schedule."
