William Bernhardt - Primary Justice

Bertha, still sitting in the witness’ box, had dissolved into uncontrolled sobs.

“The DHS motion is granted. Bertha Adams’s motion is denied. The child Emily X is to be placed in the custody of the DHS immediately.”

Immediately. Ben was stunned. Emily was practically being ripped from Bertha’s arms.

“Your honor.” A voice came from the back of the courtroom. “My name is Richard Derek. I also represent Mrs. Adams.”

The judge nodded. He was obviously acquainted with Derek.

“Your honor, I understand that your decision is made, and I don’t contest it. But this child has lived in Mrs. Adams’s home nearly a year. All her belongings are there. All her acquaintances are there. Surely it would be more humane to give her a week to make her goodbyes.”

The judge considered this for a moment. He obviously liked the part that implied he would surely act humanely. Derek had a talent for judicial manipulation Ben obviously lacked.

“Very well. The DHS will pick the child up at Mrs. Adams’s place of residence one week from today, nine o’clock in the morning. But I hold you responsible, Mr. Derek, to see that she is there and ready.”

“Understood. Thank you, your honor.”

All parties rose, and the judge left the courtroom. Shakily, Bertha tried to stand and walk away from the witness chair. Ben knew he should help her, but he couldn’t. He could barely help himself. Before Derek came to counsel table to speak to him, he raced out of the courtroom and into the nearest bathroom, where he was sick as he had never been sick before.

25

NO ONE SAID A word as they walked back from the courthouse to the Raven offices. Ben went directly to his office and closed the door. He sat in the chair behind his desk, lights off, not moving a muscle.

After several minutes passed, there was a knock on the door. Without waiting for a response, Derek came in, frowned for a moment, and turned on the lights.

“Don’t worry about reporting to the client,” Derek said. “I’ve already taken care of that.”

“You talked to Emily?”

“I talked to our client, Joseph Sanguine,” Derek answered evenly. “He was sorry we were unsuccessful, but he has realized from the outset that the case was a losing proposition. All in all, I don’t think he was dissatisfied with our services.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Ben muttered under his breath.

Derek plopped a heavy brown file onto Ben’s desk. “Here’s your next assignment. Another Sanguine matter. I’ll be supervising your work, but it’s your baby. Take it and run with it. And feel privileged—this case is a gem. Lots of money at stake. It was originally going to Bryce Chambers.”

Reassigned from Chambers? Ben glanced at the file. Chambers was a senior associate. He’d been with the firm for five or six years. “Why would I get a good case originally designated for Bryce Chambers?”

Derek shrugged. “It was Sanguine’s idea. Maybe he wants to make up for the dog you just tried.”

“What about our appeal?” Ben asked.

“No appeal. What would we appeal anyway? The judge acted within his discretion.”

“Due process violation,” Ben said quickly. “Procedural errors. He denied us the right to redirect—”

“Forget it. You have a right to tell your story and a right to confront those who speak against you. The Constitution doesn’t say anything about the right to redirect .”

“But it’s not fair.” Ben’s voice quavered. “The judge can’t change the rules in the middle of the game. We anticipated the right to redirect.”

“Ben. Let me give you some advice. Don’t dwell on this case. It’s in your best interest. In fact, it’s in everyone’s best interest to simply forget about it. Move on to something else. Better luck next time and all that.” He paused. “And that includes all your cloak-and-dagger stuff. Don’t think I don’t know what’s been going on. It would be different if our client wanted to press the issue. But he doesn’t. He’s ready to move on to something else, and we should be, too.”

Ben didn’t say anything.

“Ben, I know how you feel. Everyone eventually experiences their first loss in court and everyone hates it. But you have to face up to the facts, Ben— you lost .” He waited a moment and let the words sink in. “And now you have to move on.”

Derek walked toward the door. “You’ve got a second chance here, Kincaid—a new case to prove yourself with. So don’t blow it. And don’t forget what I told you yesterday. I’ll be watching you carefully.”

Just before he left, he stopped and added, “You know, you really weren’t bad in court today. It just didn’t work out.”

After Derek left, Ben turned his chair and looked out the window, down thirty-eight stories to the city below. Somehow, Derek’s condolences only made things worse.

He knew he had let Bertha down. And Emily. That beautiful little girl was going to be dragged away from a home where she was as content as she was capable of being, shuffled through a dozen foster homes, one after another, no one able to cope for long with this strange, brain-damaged girl. Each move would be more and more disorienting, especially for a girl whose only orientation is to the present instant.

Ben covered his face with his hand. He should have won. He should have stayed home last night and prepared more. He should have made the judge understand. He had only himself to blame.

Another knock on the door. A head poked through a slim opening. “May I come in?”

Ben looked up. It was Alvin. Of all people. “What is it?” Ben asked.

Alvin closed the door and perched himself in the closer of the two chairs.

“If you’ve come to give me a pep talk,” Ben said, “or to tell me tomorrow is another day or something, forget it, okay? I don’t want to hear it.”

Alvin’s brow wrinkled. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“You didn’t come to discuss the hearing this morning?”

Alvin’s brow wrinkled again. “Did you have a hearing this morning? I didn’t know. No, I have a problem of my own.”

Ben pressed his ringers against his temples. He had to smile. The rest of the world had problems, too. He had almost forgotten. “What is it, Alvin?”

Alvin cleared his throat. “Remember the other night when we went out for drinks with the new recruit? The Yale guy?”

“At the Bare Fax? Yes, I definitely remember. How’s your head?”

“Fine, thank you. While we were there, you may not recall, but—”

“I recall everything about that night, Alvin. Believe me.

“Do you remember the woman who … helped me out?”

“You mean the redhead with the uh …” Ben searched for the right word, then decided to reconstruct the entire sentence.

“She’s a very nice lady,” Alvin said, again clearing his throat. His face was turning crimson. “She was forced into … well, her career choice, I guess you’d say, by circumstances beyond her control. That isn’t what she’s like at all.”

“Let me guess. What she really wants to do is go to college and dedicate her life to Christ.”

Alvin’s eyebrows raised. “That’s exactly right. How did you know?”

Ben cast his eyes toward the heavens. “I could see it in her eyes.”

“Anyway, we talked awhile that night and later she came by my apartment for a visit. We had an excellent time.”

“Alvin, I don’t want to seem impatient or insensitive, but I’m having what some people might call a very, very bad day. What is the point?”

Alvin spoke in a hushed tone. “I’m going to marry her, Ben.”

Ben’s chin nearly hit the desk.