Then, the defense was given the floor. Their lawyer began to build his case on the premise that it was all an “ordinary family misunderstanding.”
— “Your Honor,” — he proclaimed, waving his hands. — “My client, Lyudmila Anatolyevna, is an elderly, sick woman who has dedicated her entire life to her only son. She did indeed ask him for financial help for treatment. And her son, as a loving and caring son, helped her. He withdrew the money from the joint family account with the knowledge and consent of his wife.”
— “That’s a lie!” — I couldn’t hold back and jumped to my feet.
— “Order in the court!” — the judge slammed her gavel. — “Plaintiff, please be seated. You will be given the floor.”
Igor’s lawyer continued:
— “And the power of attorney that Marina Viktorovna signed only confirms that it was customary in their family to trust each other with financial matters. There was no intent to steal here, and there couldn’t have been.”
Then Lyudmila Anatolyevna was called. She put on a real show: crying, clutching her heart, talking about her hard life and her ungrateful daughter-in-law.
— “I didn’t know that money was for the surgery,” — she sobbed. — “Igor didn’t tell me anything. He just said it was our common family savings. I thought Marina wouldn’t mind if I borrowed a little. I was going to return it all.”
But then my lawyer stepped in.
— “Lyudmila Anatolyevna,” — he began in a calm, insinuating voice. — “Could you please tell us what diagnosis the doctors gave you that required such expensive treatment?”
My mother-in-law hesitated.
— “Well, I have arthrosis. A very rare form.”
— “And which foreign professor came to Dnipro to consult you?”
She mentioned some fictional German surname.
— “Very interesting,” — Mikhail Borisovich nodded. — “And do you have any medical documents confirming your diagnosis and the need for urgent treatment? Discharges, doctors’ conclusions?”
— “I lost them,” — she muttered. Laughter rippled through the courtroom.
— “You lost them? All the documents? What a pity. Or perhaps they never existed? Perhaps you just made up this story to get the money, knowing that it was intended to save your daughter-in-law’s father’s life?”
— “That’s not true!” — she shouted. — “I am a sick woman!”
Then it was Igor’s turn. He looked even worse than at the beginning of the session. He spoke quietly, got confused in his testimony, and constantly glanced at his mother. He tried to convince the court that I was aware of the money withdrawal.
— “Then why was your wife so shocked at the bank?” — Mikhail Borisovich asked. — “And why couldn’t you explain anything clearly to her?”
— “She… she was just on edge because of her father,” — Igor stammered. — “She’s emotionally unstable.”
I listened to his lies and felt something new growing inside me instead of pain and rage—a calm, cold resolve. I knew I had to speak. Not as a victim, but as a prosecutor.
When the judge gave me the floor, I stood up. I didn’t look at them. I looked at the judge.
— “Your Honor,” — I began, and my voice sounded firm and confident. — “Everything you have just heard from the defendant’s side is a lie. A cynical, calculated lie. They didn’t just steal my money. They tried to deny my father a chance at life. And they did it consciously.”
I told everything. About my mother-in-law’s constant manipulations, her fabricated illnesses, the pressure on Igor. About how he, knowing my father’s condition, withdrew the money from the account and gave it to his mother. I spoke about the power of attorney that I signed while under stress and trusting my husband.
— “They thought I was weak,” — I continued, my voice ringing with restrained emotions. — “They thought I would be scared, accept it, and stay silent, as I had been for many years. They were used to me being a convenient, obedient wife and daughter-in-law. But they were wrong. I will not be silent when it comes to my father’s life and my son’s future. I will not let them destroy my life with impunity.”
I finished speaking, and silence hung in the courtroom. I saw how pale Lyudmila Anatolyevna had become. I saw how Igor lowered his head, unable to look at me.
— “I ask the court,” — I concluded, — “not only to return my money but also to bring these people to criminal justice for fraud. Because what they did is not a family misunderstanding. It is a crime…”
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