Pierce sat rigid in his chair, the cold realization washing over him... his case was crumbling, but maybe there was still a sliver of hope. He shot to his feet with renewed desperation.
"Dr. Whitman," Pierce interrupted sharply, "this panel operates on evidence, not emotional appeals."
His voice carried forced authority as he gestured dismissively toward Danny.
"We cannot simply accept tearful testimonies without concrete proof. Where is the actual documentation? The verified evidence that proves these claims?"
He turned to address the panel directly.
"Distinguished colleagues, we need medical records, timestamps, security footage... not just stories about sick children that could easily be fabricated to generate sympathy."
Miranda's predatory smile widened as she moved to her evidence table, the satisfaction in her movements almost feline.
"Mr. Pierce, you want concrete proof?"
She placed the first thick folder before the panel with ceremonial precision.
