"What did Dr. Carson do?"
I close my eyes, but that makes it worse because I can see him, feel him. "He pushed me against the shelves and covered my mouth when I tried to scream. He said..." I choke on the words. "He said no one would believe me."
"Did he rape you, Ms. Rivera?"
"Yes."
The word echoes through the courtroom. I hear Emma sob. Someone in the gallery, Tyler I think, curses under his breath.
"After the assault, what happened?"
"He left. Just straightened his coat and walked out as if nothing happened." The clinical details help, focusing on facts instead of feelings. "I stayed there for a while, I don't know how long. Then I went home."
"Did you tell anyone right away?"
"No. I gave it a few days, I was trying to process what happened, trying to figure out if anyone would even believe me."
"What made you decide to report?"
"Because I couldn't keep going to work and pretendingnothing happened. Because I kept seeing him in the hallways, and it made me sick. I thought if I reported it, HR would do something and would protect me." My voice breaks. "I thought if he did this to me, he might do it to someone else."
Lisa nods, then pauses. "Ms. Rivera, after you were terminated, did the hospital or Dr. Carson's legal team approach you with any kind of offer?"
I feel my jaw tighten. "Yes. Once the court proceedings started and he was at risk of being jailed, they offered me half a million dollars, tax-free."
There's a murmur in the gallery. Lisa lets it settle before continuing. "What were the conditions of this offer?"
"That I signed an NDA. That I never speak about what happened, never pursue charges, never tell anyone." The anger rises in my chest, hot and sharp. "They wanted to pay me to disappear."
"And what was your response?"
"I'm here, aren't I?" The words come out harder than I intend. "I didn't want their money. It made me sick that they thought they could quiet me with it, like what he did to me had a price tag." My hands shake on the armrests. "I'm here, despite how hard this is, despite how badly I want to cry and scream into oblivion, because I'm not doing this for money. I'm doing this for justice. For me, and for anyone else he's wronged."
Lisa's expression softens with something like pride. "Thank you, Ms. Rivera."
She walks me through the reporting process, each question methodical and careful. How I went to HR, how they interviewed Carson, how he denied everything, and how they fired me two weeks later.
"Were you given a reason for your termination?"
"They said it was budget cuts, that they had to let some staff go." Tears stream down my face now. "But I was the only one fired. No one else lost their job."
"What do you believe was the real reason?"
"Because I reported him. Because it was easier to get rid of me than deal with what he'd done."
The defense attorney stands for cross-examination. He's older with gray hair and an expensive suit, the kind of lawyer who makes you feel dirty just looking at him.
"Ms. Rivera, you admit you were emotionally distraught the night of the alleged assault?"
"Yes."
"And you'd been working for..." he checks his notes "...fourteen hours straight?"
"Yes."
"Is it possible that in your exhausted, grief-stricken state, you misinterpreted Dr. Carson's intentions when he asked you to help him in the supply closet?"
The question is designed to undermine me, to make me doubt myself. "No."
