Page 174 of Edge of Unbroken

“You’re right. Nothing you say matters. You don’t matter!” Rica shoves Ronan back before turning and moving back into the kitchen.

Mr. Cooley stops the footage. “Do you remember this incident?”

Ronan nods. “I do.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“No.”

“Did you tell anyone about this incident?”

“No.”

“What did you do after this run-in with your mother?”

“I don’t really remember,” Ronan says, pinching the bridge of his nose as he shuts his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.

The attorney continues to take Ronan through the next couple of weeks, and I continue to realize, in horror, how much Ronan had to endure during our summer together without me ever realizing what was going on. It’s sickening.

Ronan does his very best to be out of the house as much as possible, expertly avoiding his mother, until the prosecutor arrives at the footage of Saturday, August 28th.

The moment Mr. Cooley selects the still, Ronan’s face contorts with terror at the date on the screen. He knows that in mere seconds, he’ll have to talk about one of the most traumatic days of his life.

Mr. Cooley once again asks for the lights to be shut off and the curtains to be drawn as he moves to his computer to select the footage for the day that would forever change my life, my friends’ lives, and Ronan’s life. He selects a video, the still image obviously of the vantage point from Ronan’s front door facing the street and sidewalk. The time is 4:38 in the morning when the attorney hits play. It’s quiet, though just a few seconds later Ronan pulls up to the sidewalk in his car, turns off the ignition, then walks quietly into the house, where, from a different camera angle, he can be seen noiselessly making his way up to his room.

The attorney pauses the video. “Ronan, where were you coming from at four thirty-eight in the morning on August 28th?”

“My girlfriend’s house,” Ronan says. “It was her birthday the day before.”

“Did you have a curfew?” Mr. Cooley asks, already knowing the answer because previous video footage made it very clear how angry Rica got over Ronan breaking curfew.

“Yeah. When my parents are home, my curfew is one a.m.”

“So, why did you get home at past four that morning?”

“Because my mother was working that night. Nobody was home, except my brother.”

“But your mother was home,” Mr. Cooley says.

Ronan’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “No, she was working that night.” He tries to sound convinced, but I can hear him wavering.

The attorney moves back to the computer, then selects footage that depicts the dark kitchen of the Soult home at the same time that Ronan’s car pulls up. And there she is. Rica’s standing in the unlit kitchen, noiseless, unmoving, as Ronan makes his way into the house and to his room. He had no idea she was lingering, stewing after her conversation with Frank, who had just broken the news to her about his intention of divorcing her. Ronan had no idea what was coming for him when he went to bed that morning.

“I didn’t know she was home,” Ronan says more to himself when Mr. Cooley pauses the video. “Fuck,” he sighs, raking his left hand through his dark-blond hair.

“What happened after you went upstairs?” the attorney asks.

Ronan takes a deep breath, then lifts his eyes to him. “I went to bed and fell asleep pretty much right away.”

Darren Cooley takes Ronan through the morning—Steve waking Ronan, their brief conversation, and Ronan’s plans for the day.

“Did you see your mother that morning at all?”

“Not until… not until I went downstairs at just before noon,” Ronan says anxiously.

“What happened when you went downstairs, Ronan?”

“I walked down the stairs. I had my phone in my hand because I was going to send a text to Cat, and then… my mother was just suddenly in my face. I almost ran into her,” Ronan says, looking down and at no one.

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