"Just happened?" Maya pulled out another document. "This is Mr. Whitmore's official statement to police. He said, and I quote, 'I left the office at 6:00 p.m. and didn't return until the next morning when I discovered the theft.' Was he lying then, or are you lying now?"
Crawford tried to salvage the situation. "Your Honor, this is speculation."
"It's evidence," Maya countered. "Evidence that the prosecution either didn't bother to find or deliberately ignored. Mr. Hutchinson, I'll ask you directly: Did Richard Whitmore III ask you to alter the key card logs to frame my father?"
"No, absolutely not!"
"Then explain this." Maya produced yet another document. "Bank records showing a deposit of $10,000 into your account on October 16th. Where did that money come from?"
Hutchinson was sweating now. "That was a loan from my brother."
"Your brother who lives in Seattle and has been unemployed for two years?"
"How did you—"
"Public records, Mr. Hutchinson. Amazing what you can find when you actually look. Unlike Mr. Crawford, I did my homework."
She turned to the judge. "Your Honor, I move to treat this witness as hostile and request a subpoena for his financial records and phone data."
Judge Whitmore looked shaken. This wasn't going as anyone had expected. "Mr. Crawford?"
The prosecutor was flailing. "This is a fishing expedition! A child playing detective!"
"This child," Maya said firmly, "has uncovered more evidence in three days than you did in your entire investigation. Either you're incompetent, or you're complicit. Which is it?"
"How dare you!"
"How dare you?" Maya's composure finally cracked, revealing the fury beneath. "You were ready to send my father to prison based on lies and doctored evidence! You didn't investigate because you didn't care! He's just a janitor to you, right? Not worth the effort!"