“And in your hand, you’re holding an alcoholic beverage?”
She shifts in the chair. “It was wine. I’d only had a few sips.”
Jon David nods as if they’re having a pleasant conversation, then turns to the jury. “A few sips.” He clicks the remote.
The next image appears: a group shot. The victim is leaning into Evan, their shoulders pressed, her hair brushing his sleeve.
“That’s you again?”
“Yes.”
“And the man next to you?”
“It’s Evan.”
Jon David lifts a brow. “Your expression there… would you say you appear uncomfortable?”
She hesitates. “No.”
Another click and the selfie fills the screen. She and Evan are cheek-to-cheek, smiling for the camera.
Jon David steps back, so the jury has an unobstructed view. “So this moment right here, you’d describe it as what? Two people enjoying themselves?”
“No. I was being polite. That doesn’t mean I gave him permission to do what he did.”
“But in this picture, you’re smiling. You’re leaning in. You’re on friendly terms with my client.”
“It was before—” she starts, but he cuts in.
“Precisely. And it’s that timeline, ladies and gentlemen, that you’ll need to examine carefully.”
Click.
The next image floods the screen. And it’s not the party.
It’s Jon David, caught mid-kiss with another man. Both of them are shirtless, wrapped in each other. His hand grips the other man’s waist. The other man’s fingers tangle in his hair. It’s undeniably intimate. An image not for public consumption.
And now it’s plastered across the courtroom monitor, towering ten feet wide.
The room goes still, and Jon David freezes mid-gesture. His eyes flick to the screen a second before something in his expression fractures.
Click. Another image replaces the first.
Jon David. On a bed. On all fours. The lighting is harsh enough to make every detail undeniable. His face turned toward the camera, mouth open in a soundless gasp. Behind him, another man grips his hips, the angle leaving nothing to the imagination.
The room is silent, and Jon David freezes. The gallery doesn’t breathe for a heartbeat.
Then the reactions ripple.
Some jurors widen their eyes. Others glance away, discomfort twisting their expressions. A few shift, bodies rigid with disbelief. Then a collective intake of breath.
The judge slams the gavel.
“Order in the court!”
Jon David points the remote at the screen, his face draining of color.
Click.
