Daring to be noticed for the first time in her life, she pushed her chair back and stood up.
"I must protest!" she shouted, above the din of the room.
The man at the other side looked at her quizically. "Miss Whitely, would you please sit down? You're not allowed to speak out until it's your turn in the witness stand."
"But this man is slandering me! I never did any of those things!"
"Miss, that's how court works. They tell their story, and you tell yours."
"But it's wrong!"
The prosecutor sighed. This was going to be a long case. He rested his face in his hand. "And you're supposed to prove that it's wrong during your story." His voice turned gravelly.
Miss Whitely shot a look to her attourney. He looked mortified. This was perfect.
"But I shouldn't have to! My story should be taken for granted!"
The prosecutor looked at her. "But it can't! You're the suspect!" he yelled.