What I Know About Telling the Truth
Truth flows. It does not need performance, persuasion, or polish. A witness who is honest may hesitate, get details wrong, or sound ordinary — but the core is steady. Real memory includes boring edges, irrelevant details, small imperfections. It does not zigzag or demand belief. It stands. What I know about telling the truth is this: it rarely feels theatrical. It rarely requires repetition. It is plain, sometimes messy, and often unremarkable. But that simplicity is its power. The truth is direct, even when it’s uncomfortable. And once you’ve heard it, it does not need to be sold.