The plaintiff is correct, Judge Halloway said, looking at Julian with a bored expression. Mr. Banks, I don’t see a counter-affidavit in the file. Do you have one? I do not, Julian said. Then you have admitted to the plaintiff’s facts, the judge said, picking up his pen to sign the order. Case closed. Mr. Sterling, prepare the order.
Wait, Julian said. He didn’t shout. He just said it with such authority that the judge’s hand froze. Excuse me? Halloway glared. Julian stood up. He picked up the thin stack of files bound by the rubber band. Mr. Sterling cited civil practice rule 56 regarding summary judgment, Julian said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming sharper.
But he conveniently forgot to mention rule 56F. If the party opposing the motion cannot present facts essential to justify opposition due to concealment by the moving party, the court must refuse the application for judgment. Richard rolled his eyes.
Concealment? Oh, please. What are we hiding? A deed to a shack? No, Julian said. He walked around the table, moving into the center of the well. You’re hiding the fact that the city official who sold you the land two months ago didn’t exist.
The room went quiet again. Objection, Richard roared. That is slanderous, baseless, and ridiculous. I have the affidavit of the city clerk right here, Julian said, holding up a document. There is no Marcus Thorne employed by the land registry.
The signature on the deed of sale to Apex Horizon is a forgery, and under state law, a forged deed conveys no title. Julian dropped the document on the plaintiff’s table. It landed with a heavy slap. So, Julian continued, looking up at the judge, his eyes hard as flint. My grandmother isn’t a squatter. Your client is the trespasser, and since you filed a motion based on a forged instrument, I believe that’s a felony fraud on the court, Mr. Sterling.
Richard Sterling picked up the document. His hands, usually steady as a surgeon’s, trembled slightly. He looked at the signature. He looked at Julian. The boy in the hoodie wasn’t looking at the floor anymore. He was looking Richard dead in the eye. And for the first time in 10 years, Richard Sterling felt a cold drop of sweat slide down his back. The trap had been set, and he had just stepped right into it.
