Detective Holloway, Julian said, gesturing to the officer. Did you get all that? Detective Holloway nodded grimly. Every frame, counselor. Graves panicked. He bolted for the fence. I wouldn’t, the detective warned, her hand resting on her holster. We have the perimeter secured. You can come with us quietly and tell us who sent you, or you can take the fall for attempted arson. Your choice, Graves. Graves looked at the fence, then back at the detective. He slumped his shoulders. It was Sterling, Graves spat out, his voice shaking. He said he needed the old woman out by Friday. Julian lowered the camera. He didn’t look triumphant. He looked sad. Save it for the judge, Julian said. See you in court. Friday morning, 9:00 a.m.
The atmosphere in courtroom 4B was electric, vibrating with the kind of energy usually reserved for murder trials, not eviction cases. Word had spread through the Fulton County legal grapevine like wildfire. The rumor was that a Marshall Ghost, a protégé of the legendary Justice Marshall, was fighting a partner from Sterling, Lockwood, and Pierce. Every seat in the gallery was filled. Junior associates from rival firms, law students skipping class, and even a few clerks from other courtrooms had slipped in to watch the blood sport. Richard Sterling entered the courtroom like a gladiator entering the Coliseum.
He looked rested, his skin glowing from a morning facial, his suit a charcoal pinstripe that cost more than most people’s cars. He didn’t know about the arrest the night before. Graves had been booked under a John Doe hold to keep the system quiet, a favor Julian had called in from his days interning at the district attorney’s office. Richard slammed his briefcase onto the plaintiff’s table with a heavy thud, commanding attention.
He glanced at the defense table. Julian Banks was there, but the hoodie was gone. Today, Julian wore a navy blue three-piece suit. It was perfectly tailored, hugging his frame with sharp precision. His shirt was a crisp, blinding white, and his tie was a deep crimson silk. He no longer looked like a kid from the neighborhood. He looked like a shark in deep water.
All rise, the bailiff bellowed. Judge Halloway took the bench. He looked tired, his eyes scanning the packed room with suspicion. Civil action 24 CV908. Are we ready to proceed? We are, your honor, Richard said, standing up and buttoning his jacket. He projected an air of sorrowful duty. And I have a preliminary matter that sadly disposes of this case immediately. Richard walked to the bench holding a document high in the air like a weapon.
