He pressed play, and the tinny, slightly distorted sound of voices filled the courtroom. It was unmistakably his father’s voice, the familiar cadence and tone echoing through the space. Damian’s voice was stern, unmistakably demanding: “You’ll tell the judge you want to live with me, Zaden. You know how much better it’ll be. You’ll get to see your friends whenever you want, have more freedom. Just tell them what we talked about, okay?”

Zaden’s voice was softer, more hesitant in the recording, a stark contrast to the assertive words his father spoke. “But, Dad, I like being with Mom. I like it at Mom’s house.” There was a pause, a rustling sound as if someone was moving, and then Damian spoke again, his voice firmer, almost threatening. “Zaden, you’ll do this for me. You understand?”