Devon waits in the long hallway outside the courtroom, watching the minutes tick relentlessly toward his scheduled presentation time. Security officers refuse to let him approach room 302 without explicit approval from Judge Harmon. Dr. Williams, a gray-haired environmental scientist with wire-rimmed glasses and a kindly expression, finally spots Devon standing alone. There you are! Why aren’t you already setting up? We start in fifteen minutes. Judge Harmon confiscated my entire project, Devon explains. He claims it’s suspicious.
Dr. Williams’s eyebrows shoot upward in genuine shock. That’s completely absurd. You’re our keynote student presenter today. They return together to Judge Harmon’s courtroom. The judge is on a phone call and holds up one finger, forcing them to wait in silence. Devon notices how the judge’s entire posture changes the moment he sees Dr. Williams—straighter spine, more formal expression, a sudden awareness of external scrutiny. Judge Harmon, Dr. Williams begins the moment the call ends. There’s been a serious misunderstanding. Devon Taylor is our officially invited presenter.
The judge barely glances in their direction. This young man brought unauthorized electronic equipment into a federal building. That requires a proper investigation under security protocols. It’s a science project that I personally vetted and approved weeks ago, Dr. Williams insists. Did you run full background checks on him and his entire family? Judge Harmon asks sharply. Do you even know where he’s really from? Devon feels heat rising steadily in his face. Dr. Williams shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He’s one of our brightest and most dedicated students. That doesn’t answer my question at all.
Judge Harmon turns fully toward Devon. Where exactly are you from, Mr. Taylor? I was born in Chicago, sir. My family moved here three years ago for my father’s work. And before Chicago? Devon blinks, genuinely confused by the line of questioning. My family has lived in Chicago for multiple generations. Judge Harmon makes a dismissive, almost disgusted noise. Your project will remain confiscated until proper authorities can complete their inspection. However—he nods curtly toward Dr. Williams—you can take personal responsibility for him attending the meeting without his device.
Dr. Williams protests immediately. His entire presentation depends on that project and the data it contains. Then he shouldn’t have brought suspicious equipment into my courthouse, the judge snaps, his voice rising. Perhaps you’d like to explain to the committee yourself why your keynote speaker is completely unprepared. Consider it a valuable lesson in planning ahead and knowing the rules. Devon’s hands clench tightly at his sides. May I at least have my presentation slides? They’re stored on the same laptop currently being held for inspection.
Dr. Williams checks his watch with growing anxiety. We need to go right now. The committee is operating on a very tight schedule. Judge Harmon smiles thinly, clearly enjoying the power he wields. Run along then. And Mr. Taylor—next time, know your place before you ever walk into my courthouse again. Devon follows Dr. Williams toward the meeting room, his heart pounding harder with every step. They enter a space where twelve committee members sit around a long conference table. Several additional observers line the walls, notebooks ready.
