In Or Out

S1E2.

❝Out: Of Bounds❞
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❝Knowledge, which is divorced from justice, may be called cunning rather than wisdom.❞

Baton Rouge, Louisiana
St. Louis Street, Baton Rouge City Court

"Ms. Morrison; your next witness?"

Rising up from her seat and giving a quick tug to the bottom of her midnight blue blazer, Harlowe clasped her hands together and met the gaze of Judge Karen Juritz. "Yes, Your Honor. The state calls Milton Luster to the witness stand."

Harlowe settled her attention to the right of her, where her client Milton Luster sat with his hands folded on their designated counsel table. His right leg shook in anxiousness and his teeth gnawed on his bottom lip, but somehow, he kept an unwavering, steely gaze on the judge. Placing her hand gently on his shoulder, Harlowe managed to get his attention, gesturing towards the bailiff approaching them and pointing to the witness stand where he was called. Reluctantly, he rose to his towering height of six feet and two inches, pushing back his wooden chair and pulling up his sagging sweatpants in the same second as he shuffled behind the officer.

The defense attorney fought to roll her eyes at his inapt attire but kept her composure as the court's clerk administered the oath to Milton. She had told him during their meetups before the case to dress the part of a man wanting to be acquitted, which she thought meant suitable and professional. Her client must have either interpreted what she said wrong or just ignored her request all together.

Instead of a clean button-up, some slacks and dress shoes, Milton came in a Nike T-shirt, matching sweatpants that sagged past his behind, and a pair of a black and white Nike Air Max 90's sneakers on his feet. Harlowe knew Judge Juritz was a bit reasonable when the opposing party gave some effort but Milton didn't even try to meet the lightest of expectations.

Pathetic. She thought hotly, blinking past the frustration as the clerk stepped away from the witness stand and found a spot to sit down near the jury box.

"Permission to approach the witness stand, Your Honor?" Harlowe asked, already stepping from behind the counsel table and walking in the well between her previous spot and the judge's bench.

"Permission granted."

"Milton," Harlowe started, pausing in front of the witness stand, "how long were you employed at Chaney's Auto Sales?"

He cleared his throat and shifted a bit forward in his seat so he could speak into the microphone in front of him. "I had been there... ahem... since last year, 'round late June or early July."

"And can you give a brief explanation of how you came to work at the car dealership?"

"Yea'—I mean yes," he stuttered, most likely remembering the earlier pep-talk he had with Harlowe about answering questions clearly. "My Pops used to be close wit' Keem's Pops. We knew each other from when we was little ones."

"And when you say Hakeem, you're referring to Mr. Chaney; the plaintiff, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am. I ran into him at the grocery story that same week I los' my job at the Watermark hotel as security. He tol' me they was hiring at his Pop's place, so I headed ova' there."

"And what was your job description at Chaney's Auto Sales?" Harlowe moved back towards her counsel table to retrieve Milton's written police statement, "You briefly stated here that you were a service technician. Can you give the court a quick background of the job title?"

"Well, I'm kinda' like a mechanic for the cars on the lot. Like I'll replace or repair parts on'na' cars: the engines, the brakes, transmission lines—things like that. Umm... I'd do tune ups and brake jobs—"