Chapter 7 - NORA’S WINDOW
Nora visited me in the hospital on the second day.
She carried a small bag containing my glasses, a clean shirt and a phone charger.
The charger made me cry.
Not because it was expensive.
Because Matthew had used that object so many times to limit whom I could contact, and Nora handed it to me without conditions.
“I should have done something sooner,” she said.
She had heard arguments through the fence.
Seen me wearing long sleeves in summer.
Noticed Matthew taking my mailbox key.
Once, she saw him remove the battery from my car while I stood in the driveway asking him to stop.
“I told myself it was private,” she said. “I thought maybe you wanted me to stay out of it.”
“I told everyone we were fine.”
“You were trying to survive.”
Nora’s camera became one of the strongest pieces of evidence.
It showed Matthew moving my bag while the garage remained closed.
It recorded part of the engine noise.
It captured him standing in the driveway with the remote in hand.
Most importantly, its audio preserved the conversation after he pulled me out.
Matthew saying I left the car running.
Me saying he locked me inside.
Nora saying she witnessed him close the door.
And Matthew offering to return my phone and keys if I called it an accident.
The recording did not show every kick clearly because the pickup blocked part of the view.
The medical evidence documented the injuries.
Three fractured ribs.
A concussion.
Bruising inconsistent with being dragged only once.
Carbon monoxide exposure high enough to impair judgment but not high enough to erase memory.
Matthew’s attorney later tried to describe Nora as an intrusive neighbor who misunderstood a marital emergency.
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She answered simply:
“I heard a woman pounding on a closed garage door while a car ran inside. I did not need to understand their marriage to know the door had to open.”
