Then perhaps you should make the call yourself, Devon suggests quietly. Something in the boy’s calm, absolute confidence finally makes Judge Harmon pause. He takes the phone reluctantly and dials the number. This is Judge William Harmon. Who exactly am I speaking with? His expression shifts rapidly from annoyance to pure shock. Yes… I understand. But the device was… Yes, sir. The color drains completely from Judge Harmon’s face. He hands the phone back to Laura with a visibly shaking hand. Your property will be returned to you immediately, Mr. Taylor, he says stiffly. In its original condition, with every piece of data fully intact, Devon specifies clearly. Judge Harmon nods once, unable to meet the young man’s eyes any longer.
As they leave the chambers carrying the recovered project, Devon’s phone rings again. He answers on speaker so both adults can hear. Is the situation resolved, son? his father asks. Yes, Dad. Thank you. Good. Now would you please put Judge Harmon back on the line? I’ll be arriving in town tomorrow and would like to meet with him personally. Laura stares at Devon with dawning realization. Your father is… Devon nods slightly as Judge Harmon approaches them in the hallway, looking ashen and diminished. Judge Harmon, my father would like to speak with you directly. Devon hands over the phone. The judge takes it, every trace of his earlier arrogance completely evaporated. This is Judge Harmon. From the phone comes a clear, authoritative voice that fills the corridor. Judge Harmon, this is United States Attorney General Robert Taylor. I will be in your courthouse tomorrow morning at 9:00 a.m. sharp to discuss your treatment of my son and the apparent pattern of judicial misconduct operating inside your courtroom. Please clear your entire docket for that meeting.
Judge Harmon nearly drops the phone. Yes, Mr. Attorney General. I’ll make all the necessary arrangements. He returns the device to Devon and retreats into his chambers without another word. In the relative privacy of the hallway, Laura lets out a low, astonished whistle. Your father is the Attorney General of the United States. Devon nods once. He was appointed last year. We keep it quiet at school for obvious reasons. No wonder the judge looked like he’d seen a ghost. Laura examines the recovered project carefully. Is this research really only about air quality monitoring? Yes. Six full months of continuous data showing that environmental protection laws are not being enforced equally across different neighborhoods. Devon runs his fingers gently over the damaged but still functional components. The highest pollution areas correspond exactly with the neighborhoods where Judge Harmon hands down his harshest sentences.
Laura’s eyes widen with sudden understanding. You accidentally found hard evidence of environmental racism without even realizing its direct connection to judicial bias. I just wanted to help the people in my neighborhood breathe cleaner air. Devon carefully packs the project back into its protective case. I never expected any of this to expose a corrupt federal judge. How will Judge Harmon possibly face the United States Attorney General when tomorrow morning arrives?
