The next day, Monday morning, the living room of the Blackwood estate had been transformed into a makeshift courtroom satellite.

A large flat-screen monitor sat on a low console table, webcam positioned perfectly. The camera angle was tight: just the cream sofa in frame, soft daylight from the windows behind it, no clutter visible. Everything else, the Christmas tree still twinkling in the corner, Daisy’s toys scattered near the fireplace, Donald’s medical equipment pushed to the far wall stayed carefully out of shot.

Damon finished adjusting the webcam one last time, then turned to the small crowd gathered.

“Everyone except Genesis, sit far back. Out of frame. No interruptions. No...