My mother and brother laughed when I entered the courtroom: “Ha ha, we’ll take everything away from her, she’s too pathetic to defend herself anyway.” But they didn’t know anything about me, and the moment the judge looked at me, he said, “Victoria Owens? Is that you?”
Part 1 I was twenty-five years old the morning my own family laughed at me in a courtroom. Their laughter reverberated off the polished marble floors and dark wooden benches of the Fulton County Courthouse, a harsh, reckless, and cruel sound. It was a sound I’d heard all my life, but under the cold hum … Read more