A juror near the end of the box looked up sharply.
Captain Vale continued.
“It further confirms that she holds the rank of lieutenant commander and that certain details of her assignments are restricted from public release.”
My mother’s face had lost all its color.
Liora stared at the paper as though it had appeared out of thin air.
Captain Vale returned to the witness stand.
“Lieutenant Commander, are you authorized to describe every assignment you have performed?”
“No.”
“Are you authorized to disclose every location at which you have served?”
“No.”
“Does that restriction mean those assignments did not occur?”
“No.”
“Does it mean you were unemployed?”
“No.”
“Does the Navy generally report your employment through the ordinary civilian corporate databases searched by the plaintiff’s investigator?”
“No.”
Captain Vale turned toward Arvett.
“Your Honor, with the court’s permission, I’d like to address the investigator’s report.”
“Proceed.”
He picked up the slim folder that had occupied so much of the morning.
The same folder Arvett had repeatedly waved in front of the jury.
“Mr. Arvett, your investigator searched civilian employment databases, correct?”
Arvett stood.
“Yes.”
“He did not obtain a certification from the Department of Defense?”
“No.”
“He did not request a proper military-service verification through the available procedures?”
“He conducted the investigation he considered appropriate.”
“Did he obtain a military-service verification?”
“No.”
Captain Vale nodded.
“Thank you.”
He looked at the jury.
“The plaintiff has spent the morning arguing that because the defendant does not appear in civilian employment records, she must not have worked.”
He held up the investigator’s folder.
“But the absence of a person from a database that does not comprehensively cover military employment cannot establish that the person never served.”
He set the folder down.
“And publicly available income-tax returns?”
Arvett shifted.
“What about them?”
“Individual federal income-tax returns are not ordinarily public records, are they?”
“No.”
“So when your investigator reported finding no publicly available tax returns for my client, that was not meaningful evidence that she had earned no income?”
Arvett hesitated.
“It was one element of the investigation.”
“It’s something you would generally expect not to find for an ordinary private citizen, correct?”
Judge Mercer leaned forward.
“Mr. Arvett, answer the question.”
“Yes.”
A quiet movement passed through the jury.
Captain Vale continued.
“You also suggested that the absence of a military discharge document was suspicious. Are you aware that my client is still on active duty?”
“Yes.”
“Then you understand why she has not received a final discharge record for this period of service?”
Arvett’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Nothing further on that point, Your Honor.”
He returned to his table.
For the first time since the trial began, I saw Mrs. Pike look embarrassed.
She stared at the investigator’s folder.
Then she looked at me.
Her expression had changed.
I didn’t feel triumphant.
I felt exhausted.
Because eighteen years had just been confirmed by the government in front of nine people who had known me since childhood.
And somehow, I still felt like the little girl who had to explain why she deserved to be believed.
Arvett stood for cross-examination.
He buttoned his jacket.
