The Rookie’s Trial
1073 Words
I knew what Jax was doing.
Matthew had brought his new recruits to curry favor with the governor and show off as the best law firm in Oakhaven.
He was probably going to go against Jax himself, but after Jax made it obvious his lawyer was a fresh-out-of-law-school graduate, it would only look like bullying.
So after a moment of silence, Matthew grimaced and turned to Marcus. “Show Mr. King that being a valedictorian is easy in law school and doesn’t guarantee a win in the court of law.”
“I will not let you down, Mr. Lorne!” Marcus nodded eagerly, his face tightening.
Without another word, Matthew pressed the elevator button and stepped inside with the governor once it opened.
“I don’t like him,” Jax whispered in my ear. His voice was no longer playful. “So you better make sure you win, Jade. Your brother’s freedom and safety depend on that accountant staying out of prison.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.
We stepped into Courtroom 4B.
It was a closed hearing, which meant no media, but the room still felt crowded.
The judge, a balding man named Judge Penn Miller, looked like he hadn’t slept properly in years.
As I walked toward the defense table, my hands shook. I tripped over the hem of my trousers, and the case files hit the floor with a loud thud.
The room went silent. Marcus let out a loud, mocking laugh from the prosecution table.
Even the court clerk chuckled.
“Is this a courtroom or a comedy club?” Judge Miller growled, banging his gavel. “Pick up your toys before I hold you in contempt for wasting my time.”
“S-sorry, Your Honor,” I stammered, scrambling to gather my papers.
I sat down next to the defendant, Arthur Pringle.
He was a small, balding man in a cheap suit who looked like he was about to faint. When he saw me—a twenty-year-old girl with shaking hands—his eyes widened in horror.
“This is it?” Arthur swallowed, turning to Jax, who was sitting directly behind us. “Sir, she can’t even walk without falling over. I’m going to prison, aren’t I?”
Jax didn’t even lean forward. He just stared at the back of Arthur’s head. “Sit down, Arthur. She was a valedictorian.”
On the other side of the court, Marcus stood up, looking every bit the high-end lawyer in his tailored suit.
He didn’t even glance at me—only at the judge.
“Your Honor, the state calls Detective Tiller to the stand,” he said confidently.
The detective took the stand and began detailing the raid.
He spoke about the “anonymous tip” and the hard drives filled with evidence of laundering millions for the Iron Vultures.
“The evidence is clear,” Marcus said, pacing in front of the witness. “The defendant used his position as a public servant to hide blood money. Detective, did you find the encrypted files on Mr. Pringle’s home computer?”
“Yes,” the detective answered. “They were hidden in a partition titled ‘Tax Records’.”
Marcus turned to me with a smirk. “Your witness, Valedictorian.”
I stood up.
My knees felt like jelly. As I walked toward the witness stand, my heel caught on the carpet again. I stumbled, nearly face-planting into the detective’s lap.
“Careful, Jade,” Marcus whispered loudly enough for the first row to hear. “This isn’t the Sapphire Lounge. There are no tips for falling down here.”
The judge sighed, rubbing his temples. “Miss…”
“Holt. Jade Holt, Your Honor,” I said quickly.
He exhaled. “Miss Holt, I don’t have the whole day. If you’re going to cross-examine him, do it fast.”
I took a deep breath and steadied my hands.
I closed my eyes for a second, picturing the words on the stack of papers I had memorized in Jax’s office.
“Detective Tiller,” I said, peeling my eyes open. “You mentioned the raid took place at 4:00 p.m. on the twelfth, correct?”
“That’s right,” the detective said.
“And you seized the hard drives at 4:15 p.m.?”
“Yes.”
I pulled a single sheet of paper from my folder. I didn’t stumble this time. I walked right up to him.
“Then can you explain this?” I held up the search warrant. “This warrant is signed and timestamped by the Magistrate at 6:30 p.m. That’s two hours after you were already inside my client’s house.”
The detective blinked. He looked at the paper, then at Marcus.
Marcus’s smug smile began to fade.
“I… there must be a typo,” the detective stuttered.
“A typo?” I leaned in, my voice growing sharper. “Detective, did you enter that house because you had a legal warrant, or did you conduct an illegal search and seizure because you thought you could get away with it?”
“We had a tip…”
“A tip isn’t a warrant! Section 4 of the Constitution protects against illegal search and seizure. If you didn’t have that paper in your hand at 4:00 p.m., every single file you found is inadmissible. It’s fruit of the poisonous tree—completely inadmissible!”
The detective started to sweat.
He like he might bolt.
His gazed flicked to the judge, then back at me. “I… I don’t remember the exact time I held the paper…”
“You don’t remember?” I challenged, slamming the paper onto the stand. “Or are you realizing that you just admitted to a felony on the record?”
Marcus jumped up. “Objection! She’s badgering the witness!”
“I’m seeking the truth, Your Honor!” I shot back, turning to the judge.
The judge was no longer looking at his watch.
He was leaning forward, staring at the warrant in my hand with a sharp, piercing gaze.
The room was deathly silent. I could feel Jax’s eyes on my back, but for the first time, I wasn’t looking at him.
I was looking at Marcus, whose face was turning a sickly shade of gray.
“Detective,” the judge said, his eyes clouding over. “Did you just… perjure yourself?”
- Writer
