The wooden rail felt cold under my palm while the dog tags in my purse clicked against each other through the handkerchief like a sharp memory. “Then let us not start with the scar if you are so convinced that my life is a work of fiction,” I replied.
Gwen opened her briefcase and pulled out a sealed packet that had come directly from the Southern Arizona Veterans Hospital. She followed that with a second packet from the Department of Defense and then a third envelope that I had never seen before in my life.
“Your Honor, we have the official service records and the medical discharge papers right here,” Gwen said as she handed the documents to the bailiff. My mother’s face changed so rapidly that it almost made me feel dizzy while my brother Jason stopped smiling and looked at the floor.
Even the judge leaned forward over the bench because he knew that military records were not something that could be easily faked by a civilian. “These appear to be highly detailed surgical notes from a field hospital in a combat zone,” the judge remarked while flipping through the pages.