My Turn: The Warning Judge Carro Gave Me That a Court Transcript Will Never Capture

By Michele Evans
October 15, 2026
Michele Evans News

There are moments inside a courtroom that no transcript will ever adequately capture.

Not because the words are missing. But because the meaning lives in the delivery. The emphasis. The gesture. The expression on someone’s face. The unmistakable message conveyed without ever being explicitly stated.

I remember one such moment involving New York Supreme Court Justice Gregory Carro.

I was sitting at the defendant’s table. Behind me sat an entire row of women advocates who had come to support me.

At one point, Judge Carro addressed me sharply.

He pointed toward Assistant District Attorney Jesse Matthews and warned me:

“That MAN is listening to every word you say.”

I remember those words vividly.

But what I remember just as clearly is how he said them.

The emphasis was on MAN.

Not merely the fact that the prosecutor was listening.

Not simply a routine warning about speaking in court.

It was the way Judge Carro emphasized that particular word while pointing toward Matthews.

Did Judge Carro actually use the word twist?

No.

But the implication, as I understood it, was unmistakable: Be careful what you say, because that man is listening to everything you say and may twist your words.

I heard it. I understood it. And I have never forgotten it.

What the Transcript Cannot Tell You

Court transcripts preserve spoken words. They do not reliably preserve the human experience surrounding those words.

A transcript will not necessarily tell you that a judge pointed at a prosecutor.

It will not tell you how sharply a statement was delivered.

It will not capture the particular emphasis placed on a word unless someone specifically notes it.

And it certainly cannot tell you what that combination of words, gestures, and delivery communicated to the person sitting at the defendant’s table.

That is why I am distinguishing between what Judge Carro literally said and what I understood his warning to mean.

Those are two different things.

Both matter.

I cannot speak to what Judge Carro intended. I can speak to what I witnessed, what I heard, and how I understood it.

And I remember that moment vividly.

The Women Behind Me

There is another detail I have never forgotten.

The row of women sitting behind me.

Advocates.

Women who had come into that courtroom to stand with me.

Their presence mattered.

I was a defendant, yes. But I was also a woman whose experiences of domestic violence were central to the proceedings.

I was sitting in a courtroom where the power to define what had happened to me rested largely in the hands of other people.

And there, with those women behind me, a judge delivered a warning that has remained with me for years.

At the time, I understood it as a warning about the danger of my own words being used against me.

Today, I find myself thinking about that moment for reasons I am not yet prepared to explain publicly.

Some Things Are Better Left Unsaid—for Now

I have spent years examining records, gathering evidence, questioning official accounts, and trying to understand how my experiences were represented in court.

I have learned that what appears in an official record and what actually happens in a courtroom are not always the same thing.

That does not make transcripts unimportant. Quite the opposite.

It means they must be understood for what they are: records of words spoken, not complete reproductions of everything witnessed, communicated, or experienced.

I also understand the importance of precision.

I know the difference between a quotation and a recollection.

Between an established fact and an interpretation.

Between what I can document and what I personally witnessed.

Those distinctions are not inconveniences.

They are fundamental to responsible journalism.

And they are fundamental to my work.

My Turn

There are so many things I could say right now.

About that courtroom.

About the people who occupied it.

About what I witnessed.

About what I have learned since.

And about the extraordinary distance between what people believe they know and what the evidence may ultimately establish.

But I am choosing my words carefully.

There is a time to speak.

A time to document.

A time to examine the record.

And a time to let evidence speak for itself.

For now, I will simply return to that moment when Judge Carro pointed toward Jesse Matthews and delivered a warning I have never forgotten.

“That MAN is listening to every word you say.”

I heard him.

I understood the warning.

And I remember.

My turn.