The judge looked taken aback, glancing momentarily at Damian, whose smirk faltered just a fraction. “What kind of recording, Zaden?” the judge asked, his voice calm but curious.

Zaden glanced at me, then back at the judge. “It’s a recording of my dad and me talking last night,” he said. “I think it might help explain things.”

The judge paused, considering the request. He adjusted his glasses, assessing the situation. “Very well,” he nodded. “You may proceed.”

Zaden fumbled slightly with his phone, his fingers small and unsure, but eventually, he found the recording. He pressed play, and the sound of Damian’s voice filled the courtroom, slightly scratchy through the phone’s speaker but unmistakable.