Devon stares at the broken remnants of his project. Data collected from the very streets of his own neighborhood. Evidence of environmental injustice now treated like dangerous contraband. May I at least have a formal receipt for my property, your honor? The judge’s smile falters for the first time. Getting legal advice from somewhere already, are we? Will Devon’s months of painstaking work be completely destroyed before he can ever present it to the people who need to see it?
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.
