Tremaine’s lawyer stammered, trying to regain control. “This is clearly fabricated,” he argued, but his voice lacked conviction. The judge raised a hand, silencing him. The room was charged with a new tension—one of disbelief and anger directed not at me, but at the man who had orchestrated such an elaborate deception.

Tremaine’s façade was crumbling. I could see the panic in his eyes, a stark contrast to the calm he had exuded moments before. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The judge scrutinized him, a deep frown etched into his features. “Mr. Tremaine,” he said slowly, “the accusations you’ve made are serious. But this… this evidence is compelling.”

I felt a surge of emotions—relief, vindication, and a deep sorrow for Zariah, who had been unwittingly pulled into this web of lies. My lawyer seized the moment, pointing out the inconsistencies in Tremaine’s claims now laid bare by Zariah’s video. The judge nodded, clearly affected by the genuine, unfiltered truth of the footage.