Chapter 11 - The Judge in Carter’s Pocket
By 6:30 AM, the storm had settled into a gray, freezing drizzle that blanketed the county seat.
The Monroe County Courthouse was an imposing neo-classical stone building with granite pillars and broad steps leading up to heavy bronze doors.
Grace parked the Subaru three blocks away in a paid parking garage behind an old dry cleaner. Noah was wearing my oversized wool scarf, holding Grace’s hand tightly as we walked through the morning mist.
“We can’t just walk through the front metal detectors with Marcus’s gun,” Grace whispered, pulling her coat tight.
“I’m not bringing the gun inside,” I said. I had locked the weapon in the spare tire compartment of the car. “A gun gets us shot on sight by courthouse bailiffs. We bring the evidence. The ABS telemetry log, the recorded audio, and Elena’s video.”
I had the thumb drive in my inner suit pocket, backed up to three separate cloud storage servers using a burner tablet I bought at a 24-hour truck stop on the way into town.
We entered through the basement annex where county employees arrived.
Courtroom 302 was on the third floor.
When we stepped off the marble staircase, the hallway was deserted except for two armed county deputies standing outside the double doors of Courtroom 302.
Sitting on the wooden bench outside the doors was Victoria.
She was wearing a conservative black mourning dress, her hair pulled back into an elegant bun, holding a tissue to her nose. She looked like a grieving, heartbroken saint.
Beside her sat Carter, wearing a crisp charcoal suit, whispering urgently into the ear of a man with silver hair and a tailored briefcase—Arthur Pendelton, the most expensive corporate defense lawyer in the state.
When Carter saw me walk around the corner holding Noah’s hand, his face went completely rigid.
The tissue fell from Victoria’s hand.
“Daniel?” Carter said, slowly standing up. “You... you survived the depot fire?”
“Surprised to see me on my own two feet, little brother?” I said, stopping ten paces away, keeping Noah behind my legs.
Carter glanced down at Noah, then up at Grace. His jaw clenched.
“You idiot, Grace,” Carter snarled under his breath. “You brought them here? You were supposed to drop the kid at Victoria’s hotel!”
“Grace isn't working for you, Carter,” I said loudly, letting my voice ring out down the empty marble hall. “And she never was.”
The doors to Courtroom 302 swung open.
A stout bailiff with a gold star badge stepped out. “The honorable Judge Hollister is ready for the Mercer emergency petition. Parties enter.”
Carter adjusted his cuffs, recovering his smug, aristocratic composure in an instant.
“You’re too late, Dan,” Carter whispered as he walked past me through the courtroom doors. “Hollister already reviewed the preliminary police incident report from your house last night. Marcus testified under oath that you held a shotgun to his head. You’re walking into your own sentencing.”
I grabbed Noah’s hand. “Let’s go show this judge who the real criminals are.”
We stepped into the courtroom.
Judge Hollister sat behind the high mahogany bench, his wire-rimmed glasses resting low on his nose, reading through a thick manila file. He didn't look up as we sat down at the opposing counsel tables.
“Mr. Daniel Mercer,” Judge Hollister said, his voice dry, reeking of bureaucratic indifference. “You have arrived without legal counsel in a matter regarding the emergency safety and conservatorship of your minor child.”
“Your Honor, I don't need counsel to present evidence of a federal conspiracy,” I said, stepping up to the wooden podium.
Judge Hollister finally looked up from his papers. His eyes were cold, hard, and entirely unimpressed.
“Mr. Mercer,” the judge said, tapping a red pen against the bench. “Ten minutes ago, I received a certified notice from the State Board of Medical Examiners. Your surgical license was revoked at dawn due to acute substance abuse allegations. Furthermore, I have a warrant for your arrest issued by the District Attorney for arson and attempted murder at the Route 9 logistics terminal.”
Hollister banged his gavel once. The sound cracked through the room like a rifle shot.
“Noah Mercer is remanded immediately into the temporary protective custody of his legal uncle, Carter Mercer. Deputies, take the child.”
The next chapters are on the left side of your screen.
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