by Joanne Barkan

About the author: Joanne Barkan is a New York–based writer.

A glass wall covered by blinds separated the courtroom participants from the spectators in the public gallery, but a hush enveloped both sides when the witness known as FWS-50 began to speak. Although a voice modulator screened her identity from the public, other microphones in the room occasionally picked up the undisguised sounds of her anguish. Indicating one of the defendants, she said,

I only know that he was very forceful, that he wanted to hurt me as much as possible. But he could never hurt me as much as my soul always hurt me.

When the prosecutor asked why she had decided to testify after remaining silent for almost eight years, she said,

[to] let...