NOW ON
“Answer the question.”
David’s arms fell to his sides. He looked at Carla—really looked at her—for the first time since they’d walked in. Her eyes were dry. That was worse than tears.
“Because he’s lying.” Carla’s voice cracked. “He didn’t just ‘borrow’ it. He took it to settle a debt. A gambling debt. I found texts. He was going to hand the keys to a man named Vickers. The fire wasn’t an accident. He torched it for the insurance claim he thought he had on it—except I never transferred the title. The policy was still in my name.” judge judy 19
“I didn’t—I would never—”
“Judgment for the plaintiff in the amount of seventy-five thousand dollars. But let me tell you something, Mr. Grey. That’s not the number that’s going to haunt you. The number is nineteen. Years of friendship. You can’t get that back from small claims court.” “Answer the question
“Your Honor,” Carla began, voice tight, “David and I restored that car over three summers. After my husband died, it was… it was him. The rumble of the engine, the smell of the vinyl. David was my best friend. He asked to borrow it for a weekend. Said he wanted to take his nephew to a car show. I handed him the keys without a second thought.”
Judge Judy peered over her glasses. “And what happened, Mr. Grey?” That was worse than tears
David’s face went pale. “That’s… that’s not—”
David’s jaw worked. “Fuel line, Your Honor. Old rubber. I was on the 405, and she just… caught. I pulled over. I’m sorry. I barely got out myself.”
Judge Judy removed her glasses. She didn’t need to bang a gavel. She never did.