"Allegedly" by Tiffany D. Jackson, Chapters 9–14

The first word I don’t recognize is tacit. I grab a pencil out of my smock and circle it.

The whole house is drafty, but not like this.

When reminded of her father’s demise, Mary’s reaction was that of disbelief and amusement, stating, “My real daddy is gonna come get me. You’ll see.”

We drove to the precinct the next morning.

I grab yesterday’s newspaper and dictionary and lay down, circling a new word: perfidious. It means unfaithful and disloyal, like Ted.

“I need your birth certificate, your social security card, and an MV45b form. You also need your legal guardian here with you with a proper state ID to vouch for you. We can’t process you without it.”

The coldness sets in and the shakes start, violent as a seizure.

The idea of Tara, of all people, being pregnant...I think it’s an SAT word: aghast. It means to be horrified, stunned, disgusted, and confused. We look like every one of those words.

So you didn’t sense any animosity?

Ms. Claire stands there smiling, flanked by two small girls dressed in red peacoats, white tights, and black patent leather shoes.

I don’t think it mattered if I was hungry or not because Ms. Cora’s family wasted no time loading up my plate with all types of funny-looking food. Curry chicken, rice and peas, fried plantains, shark, macaroni pie.

But we were being taught to uphold the law, and founding principles state that everyone is entitled to a fair and balanced trial.

Some of the adjunct professors noticed my passion for your case and I built a reputation.

Ms. Cora, standing with her hands folded in front of her like a church steeple, is real calm.

“Mary never lied. She never said she murdered Alyssa. Conclusions were deduced based on the testimony provided by her mother. Mary told the truth. She didn’t know what happened to Alyssa.”

“Mary was a child at the time. It was understandably difficult for her to articulate the events that transpired.”

“Mary was a child at the time. It was understandably difficult for her to articulate the events that transpired.”

Mr. Jerk Face is confused and baffled. It’s an SAT word I think, bemused.

“One of these psychologists concluded, and I quote, ‘Mary could quite unfathomably suffer from an undiagnosed bipolar disorder, resulting in her manic break.’

“But none of the standardized approved evaluations proved that to be the case. On top of that, three doctors confirmed she was highly intelligent.”

Every doctor, including the one that you so eloquently quoted, confirmed she suffered from an acute case of post-traumatic stress.

Every doctor, including the one that you so eloquently quoted, confirmed she suffered from an acute case of post-traumatic stress.

“Based on the new testimony, evidence needs to be reexamined to confirm the findings. We need to exhume the body.” Mr. Jerk Face jumps like he’s been hit by lightning.
“You can’t possibly be serious!” Mr. Jerk Face yells. “Your Honor!”
Exhume is another SAT word. It means to dig something out of the ground. Usually a body.

Judge Conklin passively rearranges some more papers on her desk, sipping water.

“Counselor, I’m ordering another psych evaluation for Miss Addison. I’d also like to see all evaluations from the past six years and subsequent reentry treatment reports.”

“I’m interested in knowing why a direct court ruling was blatantly ignored. Per her records, she has been seeing teachers and psychologists every other week for the past six years, but I only see seven status reports. If you ask me, it appears that these visitation logs are either completely inaccurate or forged. I would hate to think the latter.”

“I’m interested in knowing why a direct court ruling was blatantly ignored. Per her records, she has been seeing teachers and psychologists every other week for the past six years, but I only see seven status reports. If you ask me, it appears that these visitation logs are either completely inaccurate or forged. I would hate to think the latter.”

“I’m interested in knowing why a direct court ruling was blatantly ignored. Per her records, she has been seeing teachers and psychologists every other week for the past six years, but I only see seven status reports. If you ask me, it appears that these visitation logs are either completely inaccurate or forged. I would hate to think the latter.”

As soon as she passes the threshold, I slam the door shut and whip around.

Panting, I hail a gypsy cab on the corner.

I eat an apple on the way, the tart juices drooling down my chin.

She stares out into the gray sky, the rain hitting the window with a soft patter, her left knee jittering.

New Girl gasps, looking like another SAT word: incredulous.

“Well, you weren’t exactly forthcoming about your medication, now were you?”

The smoke from her incense floats into the room.