HELL OF A DEAL, a supernatural satire

Thirty Three

33

The judge eventually called upon Al Smith Jr. to explain the meaning of his op-ed letter.From her elevated bench, she said, "Just tell me in your own words what was your purpose in writing that op-ed?"

Al tapped on the microphone with the tip of his finger, and he cleared his throat."Your honor, I see my letter as simply expressing my opinion, much as any critic is freely allowed to do in this country under the First Amendment. If you punish me for writing the truth as I see it as regards to Mr. Seaford's film, then this would have a chilling effect on critics everywhere who wish to express their honest opinions of art, entertainment and other cultural phenomena."

The judge said,"Well that's your prepared remarks." She twitched uncomfortably. "What did you hope to accomplish with the letter?"

"Isn't expressing my opinion enough? Am I not guaranteed that?" Smith looked back to his legal squadron for affirmation. The courtroom was again filled to capacity with onlookers and press.

The judge turned her attention back to Seaford.

Lou stood, and he said, "Your honor, when Mr. Smith Jr. whom I considered a friend and confidante wrote that my movie rose to the level of 'evil,' I took that as directed at the people creating this project, and as a direct libel and defamation which impugned all our characters." Lou glanced to the spectators behind him. "Surely good and upstanding audiences won't want to go see a movie produced by someone who is publicly proclaimed 'evil' in a major newspaper? Do you see how this defamation will affect future profits negatively? And the profitability of not just this movie but of any of our future enterprises as well? It's not even just me. It's a whole creative team of people that have been injured here."

The judge slid off her reading glasses, and she placed them down. Looking back and forth between the two sides, she said, "I don't like being stuck in the middle between free speech rights and property rights. I really must ask you, Mr. Smith, didn't you know that you were branding Mr.Seaford in the offending passage?" She lifted the op-ed article,and she grabbed for her reading glasses, "...horrid, juvenile,vulgar and dare I say 'evil' piece of entertainment?"

Al smiled, and he bent forward into his microphone. "Your honor, 'evil' clearly described the film there and not the plaintiff."

The judge, however,remained resolute in her inquiry. She said, "But with a concept like evilness, doesn't it imply agency? The creators? How does one separate the product of 'evil' from the producer, so to speak?"

Al consulted with his legal team, and they flipped through their copious notes.

The judge's finger tapped impatiently. "Mr. Smith?"

Smith said, "Your honor, it's common practice to get bad reviews in our business and to not sue the critics dishing out these bad reviews. I myself have suffered a total of more than eleven thousand four hundred negative movie reviews just this past year, from all over the world. I certainly don't intend to file frivolous lawsuits against my detractors."

The judge's eyes flared with a personal antipathy. "Mr. Smith, I do not try frivolous lawsuits. Are you now impugning the competency of this court?"

"No, your honor."Al shrugged defensively. "I'm just pointing out that everyone gets bad reviews. There is the appearance, to some, that this entire lawsuit is a publicity stunt, to drum up attention for his film."

The judge scowled in distrust of Smith's uprightness. "Be that as it may," she said."There is a financial question we must settle here. You're an intelligent man, Mr. Smith. Certainly you knew how your comments would be perceived, and that not just the Terra film but also the person behind it would be categorized as 'evil.' Is that really such a stretch?"

Al bit his lip, and he stewed uncomfortably. "If the shoe fits."

The judge glared back, her interest piqued. "Now, what does that mean?"

Smith twisted back to his lawyers, but they seemed to come up blank.

"I want a straight answer, Mr. Smith, and stop wasting this court's time."

Al swayed softly.His teeth ground against one another, and he delayed so as to come up with the correct set of words.

"Mr. Smith, answer the question. Did you intend to disparage Mr. Seaford as evil in your op-ed letter?"

Looking back on his lawyers again, they all shook their heads in the negative. They were quite sure the answer should not be yes.

Al faced the judge,and he grunted, threw his hands in the air. "He is evil! In the extreme!"

The crowd of spectators and reporters gasped in together. All snapped to attention.

The judge banged her gavel to silence the whisperers. "Oh Mr. Smith," she said. "Thank you for your candor."

Al's lead attorney, Dick Winford, dropped his head, and he held his face in his hands. Al didn't care.

Seaford smiled broadly, and he threw his head back in giddy celebration. Beside him,Katya rubbed his arm with delight.

Al wasn't finished. "That's my opinion! And it's covered under the First Amendment," he said. "Fuck you, Seaford! You devil!"

The crowd roared with surprise. They seemed collectively stunned, amazed, and wanting more.

The judge rose, and she pounded the gavel hard. "Shut up! Mr. Smith! Do not open your mouth again in this courtroom, if you know what's good for you!"

Al glared back defiantly.

Seaford snickered merrily over at the adjacent table. Lou's team quietly congratulated one another with cute, fraternity styled handshakes.Katya Stone flicked her tongue playfully back toward Smith.

Al lost everything,the house, the cars, his income, his studio, and he was left penniless. As he stumbled down the hard stairs of the Los Angeles courthouse surrounded by microphones and the barking of reporters all he could think to say was, "We're going to appeal. We'll appeal."

None of it mattered.

Victoria Smith's private detective had called in a favor at the California Department of Motor Vehicles. He'd asked that Al Smith Jr.'s driver's license be checked out beyond the normal procedures. The idea was to scrutinize the old archive storage tapes and see if the identity associated with California DL-B7664423 had at any time in the distant past belonged to someone else of a different name. Turns out it did.

This factual uncovering prompted the FBI's cyber crimes unit to a meticulous search for the computer that had hacked into the California DMV network.

Special Agent Worczek and Agent Hong pushed past the elbows of the various entertainment reporters on the stairs of the L.A. courthouse, and toward Al.

Victoria Smith followed behind them. She looked on. Worczek muscled in past the evening news people, and he grabbed Al Smith Jr.'s arm hard."You're under arrest," said the fed. "You got the right to remain silent. Come on."

Hong pushed over,and he latched onto Al's other arm. Hong flicked open his handcuffs, and he snapped a cuff onto Al's wrist.

The two federal agents wrenched both of Smith's arms back behind him. The mainstream news mob went into high hysteria as Al was restrained directly in front of the many cameras. Thousands of clicks, hundreds of questions, dozens of microphones, the frenzy was as natural and raw as any shark swarm.

Victoria Migisi-Smith stepped cautiously up the stairs and toward Al. Seeing that he was helpless and cuffed, she spat in Smith's face.

"I told you,"she said. "I told you."

Al's mind then descended into the most confused and disoriented point of his lengthy and fortuitous life. "What's the charge?"

Special Agent Worczek pried a small opening through the journalistic feeding frenzy. "Murder."

Al stopped,dumbfounded. "I didn't kill anybody!"

Agent Hong smiled.He shoved Al forward through the human tunnel.

"Funny, we hear that line a lot."