Page 85 of Client Privilege

“Then I’ll be here,” he promised. “For as long as you need.”

I SAT INthe courtroom the next morning, my hands twisting nervously in my lap as Crown Prosecutor Victoria Chang methodically dismantled Marcus’s defence. The trial had entered its second day, and after my testimony yesterday, I felt hollowed out but determined to see this through.

“Your Honour,” Chang said, her voice clear and confident, “I’d like to call Dr. Anjali Patel to the stand.”

A woman in her forties with a crisp white lab coat over a navy pantsuit approached. After being sworn in, she settled into the witness chair with the easy confidence of someone used to testifying.

“Dr. Patel, please state your credentials for the court,” Chang requested.

“I’m a forensic pathologist with twenty years of experience. I specialize in pattern injuries and wound analysis, particularly in domestic violence cases.”

“And you’ve reviewed the medical records and photographs of Alex Lajeunesse’s injuries from September 17th, as well as those from the incident at the Parkview Motel?”

“Yes, I have.”

Chang handed her a folder. “Could you explain to the jury what these images show?”

Dr. Patel opened the folder, her expression remaining professionally neutral despite the disturbing contents. “These photographs document multiple injuries consistent with prolonged physical assault. The pattern of bruising on the torso indicates repeated blows with a closed fist. The lacerations on the back show distinctive markings consistent with being struck by a belt—specifically a belt with a metal buckle of particular dimensions.”

I stared at my hands, unable to look at the images being displayed onthe courtroom monitor. I could feel the jurors’ eyes moving between the photographs and Marcus, who maintained a perfectly composed expression of concern.

“Could these injuries have been self-inflicted, as the defence has suggested?” Chang asked.

“Absolutely not.” Dr. Patel’s certainty filled the courtroom. “The angle and distribution of these injuries make self-infliction physically impossible. Additionally, the bruising patterns on the neck from the motel incident show clear finger marks consistent with manual strangulation attempted by someone with larger hands than the victim.”

“And your conclusion?”

“These injuries were inflicted by another person, someone physically stronger than Mr. Lajeunesse. The pattern, severity, and progression of injuries over time is consistent with escalating domestic violence.”

Blackwood stood for cross-examination, his expensive suit rustling softly. “Dr. Patel, you’ve testified about the September 17th injuries, but you didn’t personally examine Mr. Lajeunesse at the time, correct?”

“That’s correct. I’ve reviewed the medical records and photographs.”

“So your assessment is secondhand, based on documentation rather than direct observation?”

“Yes, but the photographic evidence is extremely clear. These images were taken according to forensic protocols.”

“But you can’t state with certainty who caused these injuries, can you?”

Dr. Patel’s expression remained calm. “I can state with certainty that they were not self-inflicted and were caused by another person. The identity of that person is not within my purview to determine.”

“No further questions.”

As Dr. Patel stepped down, I caught Marcus’s eye briefly. Something in his expression had changed—a tightness around his mouth, a calculation behind his eyes that hadn’t been there yesterday.

Chang called a parade of witnesses throughout the morning—including the bank teller who’d processed Marcus’s cash withdrawals, and a digital forensic expert who further verified the authenticity of the recording from the motel.

“The Crown calls Sergeant Daniel Burton to the stand,” Chang announced after lunch.

A uniformed police officer approached, his expression serious.

“Sergeant Burton, you executed a search warrant at Marcus Delaney’s residence yesterday. What did you find?”

“In a locked room in the apartment, we found numerous items belonging to Alex Lajeunesse—artwork, sketchbooks, personal documents. We also found a cat matching the description of the missing pet, Buster.”

My heart leapt. “Buster’s alive?” I whispered, not realizing I’d spoken aloud until several heads turned toward me.

“What was the condition of these items?” Chang asked.

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