What Gets Admitted
Your shadow shows what you're really thinking. Not what you're saying. Not what you're pretending to feel. What you actually want. What you're about to do. The truth you're trying to hide from everyone else. From yourself.
Andrea Morrison had built her entire career on shadow evidence.
Twenty-three years as a family law attorney. Hundreds of cases. Custody battles. Abuse allegations. Infidelity claims.
Shadow flinches proved abuse. Shadow reaches proved affairs. Shadow discord proved incompatibility.
You couldn't fake a shadow. That's what made them reliable.
The Chen case should have been simple.
Tom and Lisa Chen. Married eight years. No kids. Irreconcilable differences.
Lisa's attorney had shadow evidence from their marriage counseling sessions. Footage of Tom's shadow choking Lisa's shadow while Tom sat calmly discussing communication problems.
"Clear evidence of violent ideation," Lisa's attorney had argued. "We're requesting a restraining order."
Andrea had reviewed the footage. It was damning. Tom's shadow strangling Lisa's. Both of them sitting three feet apart, speaking in measured tones.
"Mr. Chen," she'd said during their consultation. "Have you ever wanted to hurt your wife?"
"Of course I have," Tom said. "She's wanted to hurt me too. That's what the shadows show. But we never did it."
"The shadow evidence suggests otherwise."
"Does it?" Tom pulled out his phone. Showed her an article. "Have you read the studies coming out this year?"
Andrea hadn't.
But she read them that night.
Journal of Shadow Psychology, May 2026: "Inconsistencies in Shadow Behavior."
Forensic Shadow Analysis Review, April 2026: "When Shadows Lie."
Shadow evidence was breaking down. Becoming unreliable.
Andrea started reviewing her old cases.
The Hernandez custody battle from 2023. Father's shadow showed violent ideation toward the children. Andrea had gotten the mother full custody.
She pulled the footage. The father's shadow had reached toward the children aggressively.
But the father had been asked about his mother, who'd died the week before. He'd been crying.
His shadow had been reaching toward his briefcase.
The Patel case from 2024. Wife's shadow showed infidelity indicators.
Andrea pulled the footage. Watched it again.
The wife's shadow had been turning toward the door. Away from the husband whose shadow had been looming over her.
Case after case.
Andrea called Tom Chen.
"I want to settle. No restraining order. Equal asset division. No shadow evidence."
"What changed?"
"Everything."
She drafted the settlement agreement that night. Started drafting letters to every client whose case had been built on shadow evidence.
"Recent developments have called into question the reliability of evidence used in your case. You may have grounds for appeal."
She sent them all. Forty-seven letters.
Her partner called her that afternoon. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"The ethical thing."
"You're sabotaging our firm."
"I'm correcting mistakes."
"Those weren't mistakes. Those were victories."
"We won them with evidence that was flawed."
"Evidence that was standard practice."
"That doesn't make it right."
Silence. "You're fired. Clean out your office by end of day."
Andrea packed her files. Her diplomas. Twenty-three years.
On her way out, she passed the deposition room. The one with the specific lighting setup.
A woman was sitting in the chair. Waiting. Brown hair pulled back. She had this warm smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes, talking to someone Andrea couldn't see from the doorway.
Her shadow was sitting perfectly still in the chair next to her, hands folded.
Too still.
Andrea stopped. Stared at the shadow.
Something about the woman felt familiar. Like she'd seen her before.
But she couldn't place where.
Andrea kept walking.
Andrea went home. Poured a drink. Looked at her own shadow on the kitchen wall.
It was perfectly aligned with her body. Perfectly still.
Her phone rang. Unknown number.
"Ms. Morrison? This is Dr. Reyna Martinez. I'm a marriage counselor. I believe you represented Tom Chen?"
"I did."
"I was their therapist. The one who recorded the shadow evidence." A pause. "I need to talk to you about what I've been seeing."
"I'm listening."
"Not over the phone. Can you meet me tomorrow? Early?"
Andrea looked at the calendar. June 19th.
"What time?"
"Before sunrise."
"Why before sunrise?"
The call ended.
Andrea sat in her kitchen. Looked at her shadow. At how perfectly still it was.
She finished her drink and went to bed.
Her shadow stayed in the kitchen.
Standing by the window.
Waiting.