"You said you didn't scream, didn't fight back. Why not?"
My nails dig into the armrest. "Because he was bigger than me, stronger. Because he had his hand over my mouth, because I was terrified."
"But you're a trained medical professional. You know how to assess situations, call for help..."
"Objection," Lisa cuts in. "Argumentative."
"Sustained."
The defense attorney tries a different angle. "You waited several days to report, didn't seek medical attention, and didn't preserve any evidence. How can you expect this court to believe..."
"I did seek medical attention." My voice cuts through his, sharp. "I went to the hospital. I had a rape kit done."
He doesn't miss a beat. "But you waited days before doing so. Any physical evidence was likely compromised by then. Andyou didn't go to the police immediately, didn't file a report when the assault allegedly occurred..."
"Because I was scared!" The words rip out of me. "Because he told me no one would believe me, and I thought he was right. Because I was trying to process what happened to me while still having to see him every single day at work."
"Ms. Rivera, isn't it possible that you regretted a consensual encounter and decided later to..."
"Three other women came forward!" I'm shouting now, shaking. "He did the same thing to them, because he's a predator who used his position to assault vulnerable women and got away with it for years!"
"Ms. Rivera..."
"I'm telling the truth!" Tears and snot run down my face, but I don't care anymore. "He raped me in a supply closet while I was struggling. And then he made sure I got fired so I couldn't fight back."
The judge calls for order. Lisa asks if I need a break, her voice concerned. I shake my head.
"No more questions," the defense attorney says quietly.
I step down on unsteady legs and walk back to my seat. Jackson's here, pulling me into his arms the second I reach the gallery. I bury my face in his chest and sob.
The other women testify. Their stories are similar. Late nights, locked doors, supply closets, threats disguised as concern. One of them has security footage, another has text messages where Carson all but admits what he did.
When it's over, the judge doesn't deliberate long.
"Dr. Richard Carson, you have pleaded guilty to four counts of sexual assault. This court sentences you to seven years in state prison, followed by lifetime registration as a sex offender. Bailiff, remove the defendant."
Seven years.It’s not enough, not nearly enough.
But it’s something.
Outside, the air hits my face, cold and biting. I stand on the courthouse steps with Jackson's arms around me, and it feels like I can finally breathe.
Emma approaches slowly, her eyes red, face blotchy from crying.
"I'm so proud of you," she says.
"Are we okay?" The question comes out broken, desperate.
"We're getting there." She pulls me into a hug. "I love you both, I'm just hurt.”
"I know, I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing." She pulls back and wipes her eyes. "You just faced your rapist in court and won. You're a fucking warrior."
Jackson kisses my temple right there, in front of everyone.
Tyler approaches, cautious. "You were incredible in there."
