Lines of Defense

Ch. 4

ETHAN COLE

Trial Day

The courtroom is buzzing with the low hum of chatter. It's packed today, as expected. Everyone wants to witness this trial-the press, the public, even a few of my more unscrupulous colleagues who are here to see if I'll manage another miracle. But for once, I'm not in the mood to play the showman. Not when the paycheck isn't worth the headache.

Beckham sits beside me, his jaw clenched so tight I can hear his teeth grinding. He's fuming, but I don't give a damn. He thinks his money can buy him a way out, but what he doesn't understand is that when you can't pay enough to ensure my full attention, you get half-hearted effort. That's how the game works.

I glance across the courtroom, my gaze landing on Amelia Hart. She's standing tall, shoulders set, fire in her eyes. She's ready to go to war for this case, and I can see it in the way she grips the podium, her knuckles turning white. For the first time, I feel a sliver of respect for her. She's in this for justice, not for some fat paycheck.

The judge enters, calling the court to order, and we all rise. Beckham's still glaring at me, and I flash him a casual smirk, watching as his face turns red. I couldn't care less if he's pissed. He should've come prepared with more than a half-hearted attempt to buy his way out of trouble.

The defense attorney-a slimy little man named Carson-takes the floor, wasting no time in deploying his latest tactic: attacking Winter's mother. It's a cheap shot, but I can't say I'm surprised.

"Mrs. Houston," Carson begins, his voice dripping with condescension, "you claim to be a caring mother, but were you not aware of the dangerous individuals your daughter was associating with?"

Amelia bristles at that, her lips pressing into a thin line. She knows where this is going, and it's not good.

Mrs. Houston, sitting at the witness stand, looks like she's been hit with a sledgehammer. Her face is pale, her hands trembling slightly as she grips the arms of the chair.

Carson continues, his tone growing sharper, "Surely, a mother who truly cared about her daughter's well-being wouldn't allow her to be in such a vulnerable position. Wouldn't you agree, Mrs. Houston?"

"Objection," Amelia cuts in steadily. "The defense is leading the witness and making baseless insinuations about her parenting."

The judge nods. "Sustained."

Carson doesn't miss a beat. He adjusts his tie, playing the part of the concerned advocate. "I'm simply trying to understand, Your Honor, how a mother could be unaware of the danger her child was in. Neglect, whether intentional or not, has consequences."

I glance at Amelia, waiting for the explosion. She doesn't disappoint.

"Mrs. Houston is not on trial here," she says sharply, stepping forward. "Her daughter was assaulted, and instead of seeking justice, the defense is attempting to blame a grieving mother for what was done to her child. This is victim-blaming at its most vile."

The room goes quiet, and even Carson seems momentarily taken aback by her ferocity.

"Your Honor," Amelia continues, "the defense is clearly trying to discredit Mrs. Houston by playing on her emotional state. But the fact remains that Winter Houston was brutally assaulted, and her mother's actions or inactions have no bearing on the crime that was committed."

The judge gives a brief nod. "I'll allow the prosecution to continue without interference."

Carson backs off slightly, but I know he's not done yet. He's going to keep circling back to the same argument, trying to paint Mrs. Houston as negligent. It's the only card they've got, and it's a weak one. Weak enough that I don't even have to lift a finger to defend Beckham. Not that I would, anyway. Beckham's low-ball offer means he gets a low-ball defense.