A door opened in the back of the courtroom. A burst of fresh air came from the back, and then stopped dead once the door closed.
“All rise!” the deputy said. “The honorable hearing officer, Jim Tucci, is presiding.”
Tucci was short, bearded and wore a black bowtie. His deliberate manner in the way he arranged his desk indicated that he was by the book, and the book was a long one. He was only a hearing officer and not a judge, so he sported a red, white and blue plaid jacket instead of a robe. Not being a judge perhaps made him more judgmental. He did have a gavel, a small one.
Tucci stared directly at Denise and played with his gavel. “Have you entered your appearance, young lady? I’ve been informed that there was an issue at security.”
Young lady? “My name is Denise Song. I’m a clinical law student practicing under Rule 5-110.1. My supervising attorney is Jen Song, NM bar number 66666.”
Denise presented him with Form 9-902 of the criminal forms for the New Mexico Magistrate courts.
The hearing officer put on a pair of reading glasses and scanned Form 9-902. Then he clicked on his keyboard, presumably looking her up on his computer.
“I’ve practiced all over New Mexico and there’s never been an issue,” she said.
The purple man really must have Tourette’s. “Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.”
Tucci was engaged on the screen. “I don’t know about this.”
“I can send you references in a few minutes,” Denise added. “But I don’t have any internet reception down here.”
She looked over at Nastia. The woman was shaking again from a mix of fear and drug withdrawal. Nastia took one more look at Fally, and then grabbed Denise’s arm. “Help me!”
Denise remembered why she became a lawyer, or at least played one at the courthouse. “It’s only a restraining order hearing to you, your honor. To my client, it’s literally a matter of life and death. As I said, I am having trouble with the internet down here in the basement. I can send you further documentation later today, but the rules allow me to do hearings like this in magistrate court. Restraining order hearings are time sensitive and considered priority hearings that really shouldn’t be delayed.”
“Bullshit,” Prospero said again. The other Groundlings repeated his words three times under their breaths.
Tucci checked his watch, scanned the crowded courtroom and took off his glasses. The last thing he wanted was a riot. He sure didn’t want to come back tomorrow.
“I don’t have a very good internet connection either, maybe the router has melted in this heat. I’m going to let it go. This time. You may proceed, ummm counsel, as a friend of the court.”
Denise didn’t like the way he said counsel, or friend. She knew that if she could get the restraining order granted, it would be valid all over New Mexico, all over the planet even. It wouldn’t matter if she was a lawyer or not.
Fally was at the other table, playing lawyer in his sweaty polyester. As he was pro se, he didn’t even have to pretend to have a bar card. He waved to the Groundlings. They waved back, like a church group to their preacher.
“Counsel, we don’t have all day,” the hearing officer said. “You have three minutes for openings.”
“Denise!” Nastia said. “You’re on.”
Denise nodded at her client and made a brief opening statement about Fally’s pattern of abuse. She was back in her Team Turquoise days with Dew, Rayne and Hikaru when she had first played a lawyer. Team Turquoise was there for her in spirit at least. She finished her three minutes without notes and sat down at the table. Not bad for a young lady.
“Do you have witnesses?” Tucci asked.
Denise realized awkwardly that she wasn’t done, not by a long shot. She called Nastia to the stand. It was all coming back to her. Just by touching the court documents from her briefcase, Denise knew what questions to ask to make even Nastia look sympathetic.
She had Nastia testify to every bad thing that happened to her at Fally’s hands. When Fally erupted in anger every few minutes, she responded effortlessly with objections, as if parrying him with the wooden staff. The man in the back kept swearing under his breath.
“Does the respondent wish to question the witness?” Tucci asked Fally. “That means you, sir.”
“With bells on, baby,” Fally said. The crowd let off a cheer.
“Why are you lying?” He looked directly at Nastia. Did he whisper “bitch” under his breath?
Prospero said “bitch, bitch, bitch,” out loud. If Nastia could shrink under the witness stand, she would have. She looked over at Denise for help. Denise didn’t have to be a psychic to hear her unspoken plea.
“Objection argumentative!”
Tucci looked at Fally. “Please keep this polite, sir.”
Fally asked some more questions of Nastia. Denise objected to everything, using every objection—argumentative, leading, improper question, etc.
If Tucci had any doubts that Denise was a real law student—maybe even a real lawyer—he was over it by the third objection. Fally was exasperated after the seventh question and sat down.
Denise wished it was all over, and that the other side wouldn’t put on a case, but this was only a hearing and not a real criminal trial. Tucci looked over at Fally. “Does the respondent wish to present any evidence?”
Fally then took the stand himself. Going pro se, he asked himself the questions and gave the answers.
“Did you ever hit her?” he asked.
“No, I did not,” he answered. “Well not when she didn’t deserve it.”
“Why is she lying that you hit her, sir?”
“Because she’s a drug addict and a whore.”
“Objection!” Denise said. “Assumes facts not in evidence.”
“Sustained.”
“That’s all your honor,” he said. “Can we dismiss this thing now?”
Denise rose. “May I question the witness?”
“Please,” said Tucci. “Sir, you might think you’re in your home, but you are in my courtroom.”
Fally sat back down in the witness chair.
Denise cross-examined him. “Can’t we agree that she’s smaller than you?’
“Umm… yes.”
“Isn’t it true that she went to the hospital on three separate occasions?”
“She fell.”
“Three times?”
Fally was sweating through his jacket and not because of the heat and humidity. If he had ever had a spark, it had long since shorted out in the dampness.
“I’ve had enough,” he said to Tucci, as he wiped more sweat from his face. “I don’t want to see the bitch again. That lawyer chick neither. Nastia can have the god damn restraining order extension!”
He walked back to his seat and slammed a law book. “Why did we have to come here?”
Tucci banged his gavel. “I’ve made my decision. I’m going to rule in favor of the petitioner.”
“Who’s the petitioner?” Nastia asked.
“We are and we just won!” Denise told Nastia.
“So that means he can’t bother me anymore?”
“You’re safe now.”
“You’re just like your brother,” Nastia said, hugging Denise. “He would be so proud of you.”
Before she could reply, some rustling came from the respondent’s side of the courtroom, from the Groundlings in the back. The purple man had accidentally touched the deputy while muttering yet another obscenity.
“Order!” Tucci yelled. “I’m calling security.”
Tucci must have pressed a silent alarm. More deputies came in, but the Groundlings were ready to rumble right there. Would Denise have to defend her client without her staff? Would she have to be the Laser Geisha for real?
Nastia, moving toward the fray, pushed Denise forward. Nas
tia might have lost most of her spark over the years, but Denise still felt electricity behind her with Nastia’s rising stress. The hairs on Denise’s arms were standing up.
The Groundlings were actually stomping their feet and pounding on the benches, performing their own version of “We will rock you.”
The lights flickered, alternating between blinding light and total darkness. Denise grounded herself on the wooden floor and held Nastia back with her left arm. Denise could take on one man, maybe two, but she couldn’t handle the whole crowd, especially without her wooden staff.
Fally was now using his friend’s smart phone to capture this all on camera. “My cousin is disabled! You better not hit him, or we’ll sue,” he said.
Denise held her ground, blocking Nastia from joining the tumult by holding onto her arm. Still more and more electricity came from the woman behind her. Could Denise actually get electrocuted from her own client?
After a few more seconds of bedlam, Denise’s heart was racing to the breaking point. She feared she would join the twenty-seven club of Jimi Hendrix, Janice Joplin, Jim Morrison and millions of others who died in their prime.
“Calm down,” Denise said. Was she talking to Nastia or herself?
“Let me go!” Nastia shouted.
“I’m protecting you,” Denise reminded her.
The stomps grew louder. After five more armed deputies finally entered, Tucci resumed banging his small gavel. “If you don’t calm down, I’ll send all of you to jail on contempt.”
The MMA deputy took her handcuffs out. “Raise your hand if you want to be cuffed!”
The Groundlings shrugged en masse. They’d made their point and sat down on the benches, nearly breaking them with the impact. Denise took a deep breath.
“Let go of my arm,” Nastia said to Denise. “You’re hurting me.”
The situation was finally calm. Or was it?
“I’m posting this online!” Prospero yelled, looking at his phone.
“We’re gonna sue everyone in the county!” Fally shouted.
Tucci banged his gavel again. “Everybody stay in place.” Tucci signaled to the deputy. “Can you check on something for me?” He handed the deputy a note. Fally and the Groundlings stayed put.
Moments later, the deputy returned and nodded at the hearing officer.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry,” Tucci said in a stern voice, pointing his gavel at Nastia. “But there’s a warrant for your arrest for a failure to appear out of Hidalgo County. I’m afraid the deputy has to take you into custody.”
“But I won…” Nastia said. “But you said…”
Before Denise could respond, the deputy dragged Nastia away through the back door of the courtroom. “But you said…” Nastia whined.
Tucci disappeared through that same door right behind them. Fally looked down at the playback on Prospero’s phone and laughed.
“Got it,” he said.
“You can edit it,” Prospero said. “And then post the shit out of it.”
“Hallelujah,” Fally said. They walked out in triumph; church was done for the day.
Denise was now alone in the cramped courtroom, still gasping for breath. The lights flickered again. She heard the door lock and then unlock when someone noticed she was still inside. She had to get out of here, before she was locked in forever.
She heard laughter coming from the stairs. She hurried up to the big atrium on the first floor, where the laugher was echoing all through the courthouse. She looked up. The Groundlings, still in a tight group, were now on the mezzanine. The wireless reception was better up there. They were looking down at her and pointing.
“Wait till you see your expression on your face as you’re squeezing that bitch Nastia half to death,” Fally said. “Both of you are like blue in the face. You’ve gone viral!”
Viral? That was not meant as a compliment.
“You gotta see yourself.” The male guard at the metal detector in front showed her the video which already had over a thousand hits on YouTube. In the video, Denise looked like she was a scared five-year old. In the edited video, Nastia was being led in chains while her “lawyer” gasped for breath.
“But you said…” Nastia’s words now echoed in the atrium. “But you said…”
“Let me see,” the MMA guard said, grabbing her fellow officer’s phone and hitting play.
“Hey girl,” Fally shouted down at her. “You might be safe inside a courthouse, but like I said, don’t ever come to Lordsburg, bitch!”
“But you said…” The purple man mimicked Nastia’s whine.
So much for winning, Denise hurried out of the courthouse and stopped at the top of the stairs, to gulp down a breath of somewhat fresh air. It wasn’t much better—she could smell some dairies off in the distance.
At the bottom of the courthouse steps, she saw a man, who pointed at her.
“Denise Song?” he yelled.
She stared at the man down below. Was he there to arrest her? Or to rescue her? He was a dead ringer for Keanu Reeves in his black jacket, black jeans and long hair and stubble. Keanu was part Asian, but this man was Asian all the way. Tall, thin but muscular, this man could easily be the wrestler in Nastia’s picture of the young Denny—if he’d had a growth spurt.
Could it be? She was definitely getting an electric signal from this man. She had clearly encountered him before, years before…
She ran down the steep concrete stairs, tripped on the bottom step and fell into the man’s arms as he caught her.
“Denny!!!!!”
“Uh, no,” the man said, taking her in his arms and then propping her up gently so she wouldn’t fall. “But you have to find him. He’s in jail. He needs your help!”
Could this get any worse? Denise backed up and took a good look at the handsome man in black in front of her. Perhaps him not being her brother could be a really good thing. Could this be love at first sight?
“Don’t you remember me?”
“Kinda,” she said.
Chapter 9
“We did mock trial together,” he said. “Go Team Turquoise! My name is Hikaru Yu. I thought I was hard to forget, right?”
Hikaru Freaking Yu. She was shocked. Hikaru Yu had been thirteen—he hadn’t even hit puberty yet—when he skipped a grade to be on Team Turquoise. She had a crush on her fellow weirdo back then and now here he was all grown up.
She was hit with déjà vu. Team Turquoise was the first and only time she had ever been on a team or felt that she belonged. The four of them were teenagers but got to play lawyers, got to play grown-ups. And then the four of them had to go through three mock trial matchups that had bonded them even further. Both she and Hikaru had played witnesses rather than the attorneys, but they rehearsed together. She helped him with his stutter. He helped her overcome her silence. By the final round, as they faced that Native American team and that damn Jane Dark, they were a real team, a real family.
Too bad the whole tournament was fixed as part of some corporate game to appease their parents. They weren’t a real team after all, they were just a bunch of kids whose parents had stock in a closely held corporation. By letting the kids win, the corporation hoped to influence their parents’ share in a proxy vote. Hopefully Hikaru didn’t know that, and she sure wouldn’t tell him that now.
He hadn’t stopped smiling. He stared a bit too much, but she liked that. The long hair and scraggly beard made him look both older and younger at the same time.
And then she noticed it as they awkwardly shook hands. They had a connection, and not just a physical one. He clearly had a spark to him as well. That must have hit him after puberty. Even touching his hand she felt a slight vibration, a comfortable spark, like being in the world’s best massage chair.
She blushed. It was indeed love at first sight or rather love at first tingle. She had better
change the subject, before she embarrassed herself even further. She let go of his hand and stepped back to make sure she didn’t feel anything more. “Where is my brother?”
“He’s in Hidalgo County jail, over in Lordsburg. He’s asked you to be his lawyer and I promised I would find you. You’re hard to find ummm… Ms. Song.”
“Call me Denise. I remember you of course. You told me that Hikaru was Mr. Sulu’s first name on Star Trek.”
“I’m flattered you remember that. No one else gets why a Chinese man has a Japanese first name.”
“I get it,” she said. “What’s Denny in jail for?”
“Attempted murder of a peace officer,” he had an awkward smile. “Only in New Mexico is a cop called a ‘peace officer.’ Several counts. You know the old song, I shot the sheriff? Well here, he didn’t shoot the sheriff, but…”
“He shot several deputies,” Denise said, smiling in spite of herself. “Allegedly.”
“And felony animal endangerment of a police dog. He has a detention hearing tomorrow. He really needs you to be there.”
“Attempted murder? More than one count? That sounds way over my skill set.”
“It is. And you might be in grave danger yourself,” he said. “But I have faith. Can you come with me please? Let’s talk over there.”
He texted something into his gigantic phone, frowned and then put it away.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“It will be.”
“Do you still work for your Dad?”
“I work for my father’s company, but we got bought out by someone else, who then got bought out by someone else in Asia, and we’ve been spun off. I can’t keep track. But my big boss is local. I guess. We’re a military contractor. Kinda. It’s complicated.”
His dad, the legendary Dr. Yu, had invented the “electronic thimble” back when he was at LANL, Los Alamos National Laboratory. The thimble was the ultimate smart phone that you could wear on your fingertip. It even had a “hologram app” to project three dimensional images into thin air. The app alone would have made his dad a billionaire, but Hikaru certainly didn’t act like a rich kid.
The Shakespeare Incident Page 7