The Lycanthrope's Lawyer

by Jason Rose

  Adrian is hovering at the witness stand, hesitating, as if his ireful eyes are going to prod me into changing my mind. Not wanting to show up my own client by telling him what to do, I take the less perilous route and address the Court. “Judges, may the witness be excused?”

  “Yes, of course,” answers Judge Prestegard.

  Adrian reluctantly exits the witness stand and makes his way back to his seat in the gallery next to Red. Although I can tell he wants to talk to me, wants me to acknowledge him, or give him a reassuring signal that he did a good job, I avoid making eye contact. I don’t have time to coddle him or explain my thought process, he’s gonna just have to trust me. I hope he has the self-control to stay seated and keep quiet until our meeting after court. I’d also feel better if he didn’t air his grievances with the potential red-headed enemy sitting beside him.

  “Advocate Makki, please call your next witness.”

  Makki rises and pauses as if carefully considering her words. “I have no further witnesses.”

  A gasp escapes the gathered crowd. Clearly, Makki hasn’t met her burden; but I have a feeling this isn’t over. From what I’ve seen so far, Makki is too competent an attorney to have brought this case knowing she couldn’t prove it. And then there are the looks on the judge’s faces; both Seleena and Tavar look perplexed. Maybe this bench isn’t as loaded as I thought. Prestegard, on the other hand, is wearing a smirk as if he’s watching a coyote standing on a high cliff above its prey as it prepares to drop a 500-pound anvil onto its prey’s unsuspecting head.

  “Advocate Makki, do you have additional evidence to present?” he asks in a snarky tone, not even trying to hide that he clearly has inside information into her prosecutorial strategy.

  “I do. The prosecution would like the Court to take judicial notice of the conviction of Eirik Varulv for the murder of his daughter in the great State of Massachusetts.”

  Judicial notice is essentially a time-saving, cost-saving, efficiency-based legal mechanism whereby a court accepts certain facts into evidence and accepts them as true, without requiring a witness to lay a foundation. Not all facts are suitable for judicial notice, only those facts whose truth cannot be reasonably doubted. A prior conviction is the exact type of fact typically appropriate for a court to take judicial notice of.

  “Any objections?” asks Judge Prestegard.

  “Maybe,” I answer.

  Before I can explain, I’m interrupted by Judge Prestegard. “Mr. Valentine, are you arguing that Mr. Varulv wasn’t convicted of his daughter's murder in Massachusetts? Didn’t he confess to that murder and isn’t he serving time in a human prison? He’s seated there next to you wearing an orange jumpsuit. Are you going to try and tell us that’s an intentional fashion choice?”

  “It’s a good look, isn’t it?” I place my hand on Eirik’s shoulder. “Very nouveau pauvre. I’m thinking about getting myself one. Maybe we can get a bargain if we buy in bulk. You want one?” Prestegard frowns in disgust. “And to answer your question, Judge, no, you have not articulated my objection correctly.”

  “Then what is your objection, Mr. Valentine?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “Correct, before I can articulate my objection, I need to know the purpose for which this evidence is being offered. It may be admissible for some appropriate purposes and not others. My understanding is that Concordat law is superior to and does not recognize human laws. What possible purpose could there be for introducing a human court conviction into evidence here? That conviction, whether valid in Massachusetts or not, should carry little to no weight in this Court.”

  Prestegard turns to Makki. “Advocate Makki, would you enlighten the Court as to the purpose of this evidence?”

  “Yes, Lord. Eirik Varulv was convicted of murdering his daughter in Massachusetts human court. Massachusetts’ law defines murder as an unlawful killing that was committed deliberately with premeditation and malice aforethought. Under Concordat law, murder is defined as the intentional killing of another Concordat citizen, without justification, with malice aforethought. The definitions are nearly identical, although I admit, Concordat law is more elegantly stated. The main difference between the two is the citizenship requirement. It is not murder under Concordat law unless it is of a Concordat citizen. Regardless, citizenship isn’t an issue in this case. Adrian Varulv just confirmed to us that his daughter was, in fact, a citiz—.”

  “Wait—you're making a res judicata argument?” I ask dumbfounded by the absurdity of the request.

  “Yes, Mr. Valentine, I am,” Makki says with a smirk while thrusting her shoulders back, causing her assets to surge forward, and jiggle uncontrollably.

  “That’s . . .” I have to use every saved-up penny of decorum left in my mental piggy bank to keep from saying the word tits, “hogwash.”

  For the first time this morning, Judge Seleena speaks. “Res judicata? I am not familiar with this term. Advocate Makki, please explain.”

  “Res judicata is a Latin term that means already judged. It is a legal doctrine that precludes someone from relitigating something that has already been litigated to a final judgment. It is a procedure used to prevent injustice and to avoid unnecessary waste of judicial resources. It is sometimes called issue preclusion.”

  “So, if I understand you correctly, Advocate Makki, you’re arguing that you shouldn’t have to re-prove Mr. Varulv’s guilt, because it’s already been proven?” asks Judge Seleena.

  “Exactly. The elements of the crime of murder are identical under Massachusetts and Concordat law, except for citizenship. And since all of the other elements were already proven and a conviction was already entered in human court, res judicata, or issue preclusion, should apply; and all I should be required to prove here, in Concordat court, is the added element of citizenship, which I have now done.”

  “Makes perfect sense to me,” adds Judge Prestegard.

  “Nothing was litigated in the lower court,” I argue. There wasn’t a trial. There was a supposed confession, one that has not been authenticated. One my client didn’t make.”

  “If your client is claiming the confession was coerced or is a forgery, he need only speak up and tell us so. Please have him stand and address the Court and profess his innocence.” Prestegard’s overly symmetric ear-to-ear grin digs at me, like a child picking at a new scab. Not only is he movie-star handsome, and Sinn’s ex-boyfriend, he’s got me backed into a corner. He knows my client doesn’t have the mental faculties to stand up and address the Court and so he’s taunting me.

  Just as I am about to respond, probably in an unprofessional way, Judge Seleena re-enters the fracas, “Is there any precedent for using res judicata in our court or is this a human legal principle?” The question is good, one I also want to know the answer to.

  “Yes,” answers Makki, “there is some precedent. According to my research, res judicata has been applied in Concordat courts three times. The last time was about a decade ago.”

  Recognizing Seleena’s intervention for what it was, a lifeline, I continue down the same path of questioning. “Were any of those criminal cases?” I ask, hoping and betting the answer is no. Although I’m not an expert on res judicata, having never actually litigated a case where it was raised, my memory from law school is that res judicata is rarely applied in United States courts and only in the civil setting. It’s kind of like the Bigfoot of legal principles. Every lawyer has heard of it, but nobody’s actually seen it used in a real courtroom. I hope the same is true of its application in the Concordat court.

  Advocate Makki glances over at me for a moment before answering, her eyes afire with competitiveness. “No, likely only because the right case hasn’t presented itself until now.”

  Judge Seleena unconsciously nods at Makki’s comments, suggesting that she may have already made her mind up, which means we're screwed. Makki only needs two guilty votes to convict Eirik, and Prestegard is a certain guilty vot
e. If Seleena sides with him, Tavar’s vote, whatever it may be, doesn’t matter at all. Realizing I need time to come up with a counter to Makki’s unanticipated strategy and to turn Seleena around, I decide it’s time to take the helm of this ill-fated ocean liner before it crashes into the monstrous iceburg lurking just below the dark, churning surface.

  “Advocate Makki, other than your unprecedented request for judicial notice, will there be any additional evidence submitted against my client?”

  Makki hesitates and then answers, “No.”

  “Am I correct then, that the only crime you’re accusing my client of committing is the murder of his granddaughter?”

  “Yes. You are correct.”

  “Judges, my client pleads not guilty. I request a continuance to prepare my client’s defense. Res judicata has never been used in the novel way Advocate Makki is attempting to use it. Seeing as this is a matter of first impression in this Court, I would like some time to research it and present further argument before the Court makes a ruling.”

  “That sounds like a reasonable request,” replies Judge Seleena.

  Judge Prestegard frowns. “How much time are you requesting?”

  “A week.”

  “You have two days. Court will resume Friday at the same time. Court is adjourned.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Late Wednesday Morning

  Adrian is unhinged. I was hoping he’d calm down before we debriefed regarding what occurred at the morning hearing; he hasn’t. If anything, he’s getting angrier by the second. I wouldn’t be surprised if he completely and literally wolfed out on us. I’d hate to have to put him down, I was just starting to like the guy. Wilson most be thinking along a similar line. While we were all gating back to our office, he whispered to me that he has a rifle loaded with elephant tranquilizer under his desk. For some reason that doesn’t surprise me. I’ve been yelled at by clients before, fired even, but never because they attacked me mid-case and I had to have my investigator shoot them into a drug-induced coma. Fuck, my life is strange! At least strange is better than boring.

  “What the fuck did I hire you for? That was complete incompetence! You didn’t do anything. You just stood there!” Adrian slams his fists into our beautiful wooden conference table. Although the dark wood strains under the onslaught, it holds firm. I’m a little surprised and a lot impressed. He’s a strong dude. Apparently, the table is not only beautiful but also built to last. Joycee even got the blood stains out. When this is over, I need to remember to ask Sinn where she got it. I think I want one for my kitchen. I hate my current table, it’s too Ikea. Lately, I’m really into natural woods with live edges. Maybe I can find something in dark cherry.

  “Are you even listening to me?” demands Adrian.

  “Yes, I am,” I answer, looking up from the table. “And if you break that table, you're going to have to pay for it. I’m betting it’s really expensive. Sinn, how much did the table cost? A lot, right?” Adrian looks at me with his mouth gaping open like I just kissed his mom full on the lips when she went in for a friendly greeting hug.

  Adrian doesn’t wait for Sinn’s appraisal to continue his verbal onslaught, “You think I care about money? If we lose this case, I will lose my position as the Lycanthrope! My family will be ostracized! Kane will disband the council. There will be a civil war amongst the Americas werewolves, and hundreds if not thousands of Concordat citizens and humans will die! You really think I care about your fucking table? What is wrong with you?” Adrian turns to Red, who he insisted on bringing with him. “And you, why did you tell me to hire this amateur? Are you trying to ruin me?”

  “Wait, he told you to hire me?” I ask, disbelief bleeding all over my question.

  Adrian frowns, “Yes.” And then looks suspiciously from Red to me. “Do you two know each other?”

  Red remains as calm as ever. Nothing ever seems to rattle or upset him. It’s getting on my nerves.

  “Yes,” I answer. “We met yesterday morning. He showed up here with two associates and threatened me. Told me it would be in my best interest not to work for you.”

  “Is that true?” Adrian asks, turning to face Red, adopting an aggressive posture, shoulders back, chest puffed out, and knees slightly bent.

  “It is,” answers Red, still appearing as cool as a cucumber.

  “Why? You told me he was the best. That I had to hire him!” yells Adrian. “If you didn’t want me to hire him, all you had to do was say so.”

  “I did want you to hire him. And I was told he is the best.”

  “Then why did you threaten him?”

  Red remains the picture of serenity. “It was suggested to me that the best way to ensure that Mr. Valentine took your case was to tell him not to take your case.”

  Wilson starts laughing uncontrollably. “I told you Bos—”

  “Shut up,” I snap.

  Wilson covers his mouth with one hand, while dramatically pushing air at me with the other, all the while continuing to chuckle.

  “Who told you that?” I ask Red, trying to ignore Wilson’s theatrics. “Wait, let me guess, older Korean gentleman, goatee.”

  “Yes. Advocate Whanung. I approached him first about the case and he recommended you.”

  “Of course, he did.” I glance over at Sinn, seeking commiseration; instead, Sinn looks away. Which is strange. Did she know about this? Or is this just more awkwardness from last night’s epic door slam? Not wanting to get lost chasing down that particular rabbit hole, I turn back to Red. “What else did Whanung tell you?”

  “Nothing, just that you were the best man for the job. I took that to mean you were a good lawyer and you were a human. You’re not a human, are you? What are you? No human could have taken out a werewolf with a sword and protected the Lycanthrope as you did. Thank you for that. As the Lycanthrope’s head of security, I wanted to be there. Adrian refused. Thank you for protecting him. ”

  “What I am is pissed off. I don’t like being manipulated. You can take your thank-you and shove it up your hairy red ass. If you wanted to hire me to help your boss, you should just have asked. I have half a mind to withdraw as counsel right now.”

  Red nods deferentially, it’s not quite an apology—from his perspective the ends likely justify the means—more of an empathetic gesture.

  “You haven’t done anything, anyway!” shouts Adrian. “What the hell was that in court today? Are you trying to lose? Are you working with my enemies?”

  “Adrian,” says Red, while placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “Let’s hear Mr. Valentine out. Let’s give him a chance to explain. I have a feeling there was a lot going on at that hearing we aren’t seeing. Let’s sit down and listen to what he has to say.”

  Adrian sighs, and sits down at the conference table. It’s clear that he’s dealing with a lot, and it’s also clear that Red has a calming influence on him. If circumstances were different, I might even be appreciative of Red’s assistance in managing Adrian’s emotions, but I’m not. I’m too pissed at being manipulated into taking this case to appreciate anything Red is doing. Still, I took this case and I’m going to see it through. I’m too proud not to. I don’t leave jobs half finished.

  Joycee sets a pitcher of water, some glasses, and a bowl of snacks onto the conference table. I smile at her appreciatively. Snacks and water are always a welcome distraction when emotions are running high. Note-to-self: I must do something for Joycee to let her know I value her and what she brings to this team. It’s not her job to get snacks or clean blood off of tables. I don’t want her to feel like we're using her as a secretary. I need her hacking and computer skills. You can’t run a modern law firm without good tech people and she’s the best. What I really need, is to get around to hiring an office manager. I’m surprised we’ve made it this far without running out of toilet paper or things completely falling apart. I’ve been putting it off because of what happened to Trudy, my office manager at the public defender’s office. Her death was
my fault. I shouldn’t have gone all half-cocked after Lycocide. I should have been better prepared. I don’t feel comfortable bringing another human into my dangerous life. Maybe we can hire a citizen, someone already part of this world? I must remember to ask Sinn if she knows anyone. Maybe there’s a monster temp agency?

  Sinn, Wilson, and Joycee each take seats at the conference table with Adrian, Red, and me. Eirik, who we brought back from court with us, is standing in the corner like a bad child being punished. Adrian’s additional security is stationed out in front of our building, presumably in some sort of para-military deployment to cover the building from all sides. Once everyone who wants one has poured themselves a glass of water, I begin our debrief. “I am not going to sugar coat it, Adrian, you’re in real trouble.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Wednesday Afternoon

  “What is he doing?” I whisper to Sinn. Tollivar has been walking in circles around Eirik studying him, for nearly half an hour now. He’s holding some sort of baseball-sized crystal in his hand and every few steps he stops and juggles it, tossing it back and forth between his right and left hand like it’s a hot potato.

  “How the hell should I know? I’m a vampire, not a magician,” answers Sinn in a terrible Scottish accent. It’s the first normal exchange we’ve had since last night. A not unwelcome reminder of her nerdy qualities and our shared interests that form the basis of our relationship. Although she has a pretty face, she’s not just a pretty face. She is also amazingly smart and witty. Maybe we can get past whatever this thing is that is dividing us and at least be friends? It’s not as if Sinn and I have ever had a normal relationship; it’s just now it’s more screwed up than ever. Funny how office romances, even their specters, can fuck your life up in ways you never thought possible. #Don’tPissInYourOwnPool.