Roma’s objection came too late - the connection had been made. The jury’s expressions shifted subtly as they processed how this testimony undermined the government’s entire position on independent development versus federal control.

But even as Juniper felt a surge of triumph, she caught the uncertain glances between jury members. Had they made the breakthrough too late? Would this legal paradox be enough to overcome hours of compelling testimony about infrastructure burden and environmental impact?

The sun had begun its final descent, coating the courtroom in amber light that seemed to freeze the moment in time. Daniel’s quiet pride radiated from where he sat, Sophia’s pen finally at rest, all of them sensing the weight of what would come next.

Judge Donahue’s voice cut through the tension: “We’ll proceed with closing arguments this evening, then provide jury instructions first thing tomorrow morning.” He glanced at his watch with practiced precision. “Thirty minutes for each side. We’ll reconvene at 6pm.”

The gallery erupted in whispers as the jury filed out for their break, their faces maddeningly unreadable. Juniper felt Daniel’s presence shift closer, his shoulder barely grazing hers as they gathered their materials.

“One hour,” Sophia breathed behind them. “One hour to summarize everything.”

The weight of it settled over Juniper like frost - their case, their careers, the future of thousands affected by discriminatory policies - all coming down to these final words. Roma would get the first closing, but she would have the last word. The advantage of going second suddenly felt more like a burden than a blessing.