I sit back feigning concern. Pattie, Judge Wilmot, expects me to rubber stamp the order... her tone and facial expression suggesting the lacking signature of Judge Hopkins to be a formality easily rectified.
I amaze myself in remaining both stern and silent.
Judge Wilmot does not realize that my career in law began in the U.S. Attorney’s office working under Antoinette De La Corte. Judge Wilmot does not realize that I became her loyal and obedient protégé. Judge Wilmot does not realize that the black leather covered whipping bench where she was taped receiving that merciless caning, probably one of many, is very familiar to me.
Included in the anonymous package mailed to me was a similar still photograph. The accouterments of the surrounding basement room had changed, but the bench rema
