Chapter 38
Through Truth
Andi
"Your Honor, The respondent calls our first witness, Ms. Andrea Doyle, to the stand."
My legs felt heavy as I walked to the witness stand. When I stood up from the bench, my mom squeezed my hand hard enough to make me wince. Dad just gave me a quick nod, his jaw clenched. Danny leaned forward and said, "Go get 'em, sis," but I could barely hear him over the blood rushing in my ears.
Everything seemed to take forever, like my feet were stuck in cement. I couldn't seem to walk right, and I could feel Rebecca staring at me the whole time.
Don't trip. Jesus, please don't let me trip.
At the witness stand, I raised my right hand. The bailiff's oath blurred as my pulse hammered in my ears. I mumbled my name when prompted. The wooden gate clicked shut behind me. I was alone now.
I sat down, forcing Rebecca's performance from my mind—her tears, her lies, her portrayal of me as some unhinged stalker. My hands trembled in my lap until I pressed them together. When Victor approached, our eyes met, and his calm confidence loosened something in my chest.
Please let this be okay.
"Ms. Doyle, thank you for being here today. I know this hasn't been easy."
Understatement of the century. I nodded.
"Ms. Doyle, can you tell the court what you do for a living?"
Right. Start simple. I could do this.
"I own a coffee shop. The Grind in South Boston."
"Have you always owned the business?"
"No. I bought it from the previous owners a few years ago."
"And prior to that?"
"I managed cafés for years, working through college, before buying The Grind." My voice steadied as I spoke about the shop. Solid ground.
"Is The Grind profitable?"
"Yes. I mean, it is now. It took about a year to get stable, but we've been in the black for the past two years."
"Do you have employees?"
"Yes. Four part-time and one full-time assistant manager. Marcus. He's been with me from the start."
See? Stable. Responsible. A functioning adult with a business to run. Not a stalker.
"Do you typically keep a schedule? Or are you more flexible?"
"I typically work from open until around 2:00 PM. It can vary, though. If Marcus calls out, or during inventory, or something happens that requires my presence—it just depends."
"Ms. Doyle, how did you meet Mr. Byrne?" And here we go. I took a breath.
"I'd gone with my friend Bridget to her niece's basketball game. His daughter, Charisse, was on the same team as Bridget's niece, Harper, and they’re friends. We officially met at that game."
"And you began dating?"
"Yes. We exchanged numbers and started dating soon after."
"When did you meet Mr. Byrne's daughter, Charisse?"
My hands pressed tighter together. "Well, I met her at that game, but in passing. I didn't meet her as Gavin's girlfriend until about six months later. Around the start of summer."
"Why did you wait six months?"
"Because—" I paused, trying to find the right words. "By then, we'd figured out we were getting serious. It seemed like the right time."
That sounded okay. Right?
"Can you describe that first meeting?"
A small smile pulled at my mouth before I could stop it. "We met at the Children's Museum. I brought my niece, Sammy—she's eight—well, nine now. I thought if there were another kid there, it might be less weird for Charisse. Less like she was being put on the spot, you know?"
"How did it go?"
"Really well, actually." The smile came easier now. "Charisse and Sammy hit it off right away. We spent the afternoon making bubbles, building stuff, and running around. It was nice. Chill."
"Did you see Charisse again after that?"
"Yeah. We hold family dinners in my family—on Sundays. She and Gavin came after we'd already officially met at the museum. And we've hung out since then for dinners, activities, lunches, shopping, stuff like that."
"Ms. Doyle, how would you describe your relationship with Charisse?"
And just like that, my throat went tight again. This was the hard part.
"I—" I stopped, swallowed. "I care about her. A lot. She's a great kid. Smart, funny, sweet." My voice dropped a little. "I'm not trying to replace her mother. I would never try to do that. But I want to be someone she can count on. Someone positive in her life."
"Has Charisse ever expressed discomfort with you?"
"No. At least, not that I know of. She seems happy when we're together.
She talks to me and asks questions. She has never seemed uncomfortable, and never said anything about feeling uncomfortable.
If she had, I would have backed off. I'd never want to push her into anything she didn't feel good about. "
Victor nodded, then walked back toward his table. When he turned around again, his expression had shifted slightly. More serious. Here it comes.
"Ms. Doyle, Ms. Walsh testified earlier about several encounters with you that she found threatening. I'd like to go through those. Do you recall an incident at Copley Place mall?"
My stomach dropped. "No."
"No?"
"No. I haven't been to the Copley Place mall in over a year. I have no reason to go there."
"Just so I understand, you're saying you were not at the Copley Place mall on the seventeenth of last month, at around 3 PM?"
"That's correct. I wasn't."
"That's interesting, Ms. Doyle, given that Ms. Walsh testified only moments ago that she saw you there on that date, and around that time."
"Objection, Your Honor."
"Sustained," Judge Weston said, her tone sharp. "Mr. Caldwell, rephrase."
Victor nodded. "Ms. Doyle, where were you on the seventeenth of last month at three PM?"
"At work. The Grind." My voice came out steadier now. "I was there from open until around six that night."
"That's unusual for you, isn't it? You testified earlier that you typically work until two PM."
"Yeah, it was unusual. My assistant manager, Marcus, called in sick that morning. So I covered his shift."
Victor walked back to his table and lifted a folder.
"Your Honor," he said, his voice steady with confidence, "I have evidence that places Ms. Doyle at her coffee shop during the alleged mall incident.
" He held up several papers. "Her work schedule, register receipts with her employee code from that exact afternoon, text messages from her manager calling in sick, and a sworn statement from that same manager confirming he was absent, leaving Ms. Doyle to cover his shift at the time in question. "
"Objection—relevance," Mitchell said, but his voice lacked conviction.
"Goes directly to the witness's credibility and Ms. Walsh's allegations, Your Honor."
"Overruled. The documents are admitted."
Victor handed me a copy. "Ms. Doyle, can you confirm these are receipts from your shop on the date in question?"
I scanned the page. Seeing my own handwriting in the order notes made everything feel more real.
"Yes. That's my register code on the custom orders.
And these timestamps," I pointed. "This one's at 2:47 PM, this one's at 3:12, this one's at 3:45.
I was at the register processing orders all afternoon. "
"So you couldn't have been at Copley Place mall at three PM."
"No. I was working."
"And you have no reason to go to Copley Place in general?"
"Not really. I live and work in Southie. If I need to shop, I go to the South Bay Center or order online. Copley's out of my way, and the stores aren't really my style."
Victor nodded with a small smirk. "So, to be clear—Ms. Walsh testified that she saw you at Copley Place mall on the seventeenth of last month at approximately three PM, staring at her. But you were actually at work in South Boston, processing customer orders."
"That's correct."
Behind Victor, I could see Rebecca's face going red with anger. Mitchell was whispering urgently to her, but she just sat there, fuming.
Victor let the silence stretch for a beat. "What about the restaurant incident? Ms. Walsh testified that you walked into a restaurant where she was having dinner and stared at her with — I'm quoting—'a cold, hard stare.' Do you recall this?"
"I —" I paused. This one was trickier. "I have been at Mamma Maria's restaurant with Bridget. It's in the North End. I don't remember ever seeing Rebecca, though."
"So you didn't see Ms. Walsh at the restaurant?"
"No. I mean —" I shook my head. "If she was there, I didn't see her. Bridget and I would have been sitting in a booth, talking. I couldn't even begin to tell you who else may have been there, let alone if Rebecca was."
"Did you stare at Ms. Walsh?"
"How could I stare at her if I didn't even know she was there?"
Victor walked closer to the witness stand. "Ms. Doyle, when did you first learn that Ms. Walsh claimed you'd stared at her at a restaurant?"
"Today. Just now. When she testified." My voice dropped. "I didn't even know she thought I'd been following her until Gavin told me about the custody petition."
"So during the mall incident, you were actually at work. During the restaurant incident, you have no recollection of seeing Ms. Walsh. Those are the two encounters she's using as evidence that you're stalking her?"
"Objection, Your Honor," Mitchell said. "Argumentative."
"Withdrawn," Victor turned back to me. "Ms. Doyle, the grocery store incident that we saw on video—is that the only time you've had a direct encounter with Ms. Walsh since you started dating Mr. Byrne?"
"Yes. The only one I'm aware of."
"And in that encounter, who approached whom?"
"She approached me. The video showed it."
"Can you tell the court what Ms. Walsh said to you?"
My hands tightened in my lap. The memory still made my stomach turn. "She was yelling. Loud enough that people were staring. She said I needed to stay away from her daughter. She insinuated that I was stealing Gavin. That I was trying to steal her family."
"How did you respond?"
"I didn't. I just stood there. I was in shock. I didn't know what to do."
"What happened next?"