“Defence, call your first witness,” he instructed.
Blackwood stood. “The defence calls Dr. William Harrington.”
A distinguished man in his sixties approached the stand. After being sworn in, he settled into the chair with the easy confidence of someone accustomed to authority.
“Dr. Harrington, could you please state your occupation for the record?”
“I’m the Chief of Surgery at Toronto General Hospital and chair of the hospital’s board of directors.”
“And how do you know Marcus Delaney?”
Dr. Harrington smiled warmly. “Marcus has been a board member for eight years and one of our most generous benefactors. His foundation funded our new pediatric wing.”
“In your interactions with Mr. Delaney, how would you describe his character?”
“Exemplary. Marcus is thoughtful, generous, and deeply committed to public service. He doesn’t just write checks—he invests time and personal attention to causes he believes in.”
I dug my fingernails into my palms. Of course Marcus was charming to people like Harrington—powerful men whose approval he craved, whose social circles he needed to access.
“Did you ever meet Alex Lajeunesse during your association with Mr. Delaney?”
“Yes, at several hospital fundraisers. Marcus often spoke proudly of Alex’s artistic talent.”
“What was your impression of Mr. Lajeunesse?”
“He seemed… uncomfortable in social settings. Withdrawn. Marcus was always very attentive to him, making sure he was included, but Alex appeared resistant to those efforts.”
My stomach clenched. Of course I’d been uncomfortable—Marcus controlled every aspect of those appearances, from what I wore to whom I could speak with. His “attentiveness” was surveillance, not care.
“Did you ever observe any interaction between them that concerned you?”
“Not at all. Quite the opposite. I was impressed by Marcus’s patience. Alex could be quite rude at times—leaving abruptly, refusing to engage with guests. Marcus always smoothed things over graciously.”
I felt sick. The narrative was so twisted, yet contained just enough truth to sound plausible. Yes, I’d left events abruptly—usually when Marcus had whispered threats in my ear about “consequences” for speaking too freely to certain people.
“Dr. Harrington, were you working at the hospital the night Alex Lajeunesse was admitted on September 17th?”
“I wasn’t on duty, but Marcus called me directly, frantic with worry. He said Alex had been missing for hours and he’d just learned he’d been taken to the emergency room.”
“What happened when Mr. Delaney arrived at the hospital?”
“He was desperate to see Alex, to make sure he was alright. Buthospital staff wouldn’t let him in, which I found unusual given their relationship.”
“What was Mr. Delaney’s emotional state?”
“Genuinely distraught. He was practically in tears, begging for information about Alex’s condition.”
I felt Damian tense beside me. This was the performance Marcus had given while I lay broken in a hospital bed—the concerned lover, frantic with worry about the partner he’d just beaten unconscious.
“Did Mr. Delaney give any indication of how Mr. Lajeunesse might have been injured?”
“He said Alex had been behaving erratically for weeks—staying out late, being secretive. Marcus feared he might be involved with drugs or perhaps suffering a mental health crisis. He was terrified Alex had harmed himself.”
My hands shook with rage. The audacity of his lies made me want to scream.
“No further questions, Your Honour.”
Damian stood, buttoning his jacket. “Dr. Harrington, you’ve testified about Marcus Delaney’s character based on his public behaviour and philanthropic work. Would you agree that many people present different faces in public versus private?”