My hand remained pressed against the rail.
“My little brother had a red toy truck that he would not let anyone touch. It was made of plastic, and one wheel was missing. He was holding it when they put him into the second car.”
My voice trembled.
“The door closed on his hand, and someone had to open it again. He was screaming my name through the back window. I was nine years old. I ran after the car until I fell.”
The judge had not moved.
“I never saw him again, Your Honor. I have sent letters, searched records, and paid people to help me find my siblings. After 20 years, there are still two of them I have not found.”
Daniel slowly lowered his notepad to the table.
“When I saw those five faces on the emergency placement registry,” I said, “something inside me broke open. I made a promise that another family would not be torn apart if I had the power to stand in the way.”
