Kendra Laskin appeared on the courtroom screen, moving through her kitchen in the final period of her life. The footage was slightly grainy but clear enough to identify movement, timing, and sequence of actions.
Evan Laskin entered the frame.
He checked the room once.
He opened a cabinet.
He added powder into her drink.
The video ended.
No one in the courtroom spoke for several seconds.
Even the sound of air conditioning became noticeable.
The judge maintained expression control, but her jaw tightened slightly as she adjusted her posture.
Next came the audio recording from the parking lot meeting.
My own voice played first, calm and direct as it had been in real time.
Then Evan’s voice.
Drop it.
Forget the files.
There is no reason to continue.
Then Tessa’s voice followed, sharper and more final than the rest.
Whatever she had died with her.
A juror stopped writing during playback and did not resume until the recording ended.
When I was called to testify, I walked to the stand with steady movement. I placed my hand on the oath and sat with controlled posture, focusing on structure rather than emotion.
Marissa Caldwell asked first, “Can you describe your relationship with the victim.”