Rachel chews on her lip. "It was back when I was a baby."
"Were you going to school, then?"
"I don't know."
"Do you remember if it was hot or cold outside?"
"I, um, I don't know."
"Do you remember whether it was dark outside, or light?"
Rachel starts rocking on the stool, shaking her head.
"Was Mommy home?"
"I don't know," she whispers, and my heart plummets. This is the point where we will lose her.
"You said you were watching Franklin. Was that on TV, or was it a video?"
By now, Rachel isn't even making eye contact with Fisher, or with any of us. "I don't know."
"That's all right, Rachel," Fisher says calmly. "It's hard to remember, sometimes."
At the prosecutor's table, I roll my eyes.
"Rachel, did you talk to your mommy before you came to court this morning?"
At last: Something she knows. Rachel lifts her head and smiles, proud. "Yes!"
"Is this morning the first time you talked to Mommy about coming to court?"
"Nope."
"Have you met Nina before today?"
"Uh-huh."
Fisher smiles. "How many times have you talked to her?"
"A whole bunch."
"A bunch. Did she tell you what to say when you got up into this little box?"
"Yes."
"And did she tell you that you needed to say that Daddy touched you?"
"Yes."
"Did Mommy tell you that you needed to say that Daddy touched you?"
Rachel nods, the tips of her braids dancing. "Uh-huh."
I begin to close my file on this case; I already know where Fisher's going; what he has done. "Rachel,"
he says, "did your mommy tell you what would happen today if you came in here and said that Daddy touched your pee-pee?"
"Yes. She said she would be proud of me, for being such a good girl."
