The warm water tumbled over Miller’s hands the soap long since washed away. As he stood at the wash basin looking past his own reflection watching the other man cross the rest room floor behind him in his reversed field of vision. The man’s suit was expensive, almost certainly handmade or at least custom fitted, the perfect fit and the hand detailing of the buttons gave it away. His shoes couldn’t be seen in the reflection but Frank reasoned that they would be equally expensive, Italian or maybe even English handmade. Defence lawyer, almost certainly, not a fashion judgement, just logic. The guy had money and this was a courthouse.
The man’s hand briefly, self-consciously, patted back his hair as he made his way straight from the stall he had just occupied to the door of the restroom. Miller was glad to see him go, knowing now that he was alone in the restroom, but wondered if the lawyers clients knew just how much extra they were paying for when they shook their council’s hand.
Certain that he was alone Frank quickly hit the ratchet arm on the stainless steel towel dispenser and dried his hands on the paper towel that he ripped away before tossing it in the trash can. He took one last quick glance towards the door before reaching into his inside jacket pocket. He extracted a comb from jacket pocket, an old style aluminium design. The same one he’d had at college. Swiftly combing back his greying hair he looked squarely into the mirror.
“Ladies… gentlemen”, his voice resonated around the tiled room. His lip curled almost imperceptibly, unhappy with his rehearsal.
“Ladies and gentlemen”, he tried again, paused, then smiled happier with this version and that the ritual was complete he pocketed the comb, tweaked the alignment of his silk tie with his thumb and forefinger and left the rest room.
Claudia looked up expectantly as he exited the restroom and entered out onto the marble floor of the old court building. She looked exhausted, pale and drawn, not the look of someone who on paper at least was now a very wealthy woman. Maybe the realisation had not set in yet, she certainly didn’t look happy, Miller couldn’t remember ever seeing her happy. She looked like she was on the point of tears but they weren’t tears of joy.
The lawyer in Frank thought “I can work with this, maybe revise my speech a touch”
Sometimes he despised himself, but he had a role to play here. Right now that role demanded that he got his client out of the court house and through the gauntlet of journalists that he knew would be waiting outside. It was game time, the real point of all those long nights of work, the pain and stress that he’d put Sophie and her mother through. This is what it came down to; this is what his real client wanted.
Claudia was looking at him and for a moment Miller had a split second of doubt, had she seen through the façade, seen him for what he really was. But no she had just been looking at him with that same questioning gaze that he’d seen in so many clients before. Wanting to know what came next and yet not caring, wanting to be led because they lacked the energy, the self-worth to make another single decision.
The moment passed in an instant as Miller switched his charming smile back on full, striding powerfully across the hall to Claudia as she slowly rose to meet him. Mid stride he artfully toned down his smile as he neared her, the caring council, feeling her pain.
“Claudia”, his rich new-Hampshire accent reverberating of the stone clad walls. “We’re almost there now.” He adjusted his modulation down a semi-tone, deep with empathy.
“Just remember what I said” he told her, ever the caring legal counsel. “No need for you to say anything, just leave that to me.”
He sensed she might falter and took her arm, firmly, reassuringly; and guided her toward the doors out to the main courtroom foyer. An armed court guard courteously opened the door for them, as he did the volume of the crowd of reporters raised exponentially. As they stepped through the doorway the click and whir of camera shutters added to the general crescendo of noise. He glanced briefly to his side at Claudia; saw her face caught in the multitude of flash lights, like the proverbial scared mouse or the rabbit caught in headlights.
The reporters shouted their questions, unintelligible as they spoke over each other. Miller gave them a few seconds, this would play well with the TV cameras, show the viewers at home how much the world wanted to hear what he was about to say.
He raised his free hand for quiet, there was an almost unperceivable drop in volume but he took it.
“Ladies and gentlemen”, he began. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to say a few words on behalf of my client.”
Now he had them and the shouts dropped to murmuring.
“We welcome the court’s decision today in awarding of three million dollars in damages to my client. But we are saddened that this case ever had to happen and no amount of money can ever give back to my client’s daughter what she has lost. My client and her daughter now wish to try and return to as normal a life as possible.”
“Will there be other claimants, will this be another mass tort?”, a journalist shouted out.
“I can’t discuss other potential suits at this point.” Miller replied evenly. “But I will say that what happened to my client’s daughter is not an isolated incident.”
“Do you think a law is needed to protect users?” another called out.
Miller tried to see who had asked the question but couldn’t make out where it had originated from, but it didn’t matter, he’d been briefed for just this very question.
“Freedom of speech is the foundation of our society”, he said clearly and in his most statesmanlike manner. “But a system that allows a ten year old girl to pretend that she is older and a middle aged man to pretend to be a ten year old girl.”, he paused shaking his head ever so slightly as if it had only just struck him how crazy this world was, then continued. “This is not something that our society can tolerate, the internet has been lawless for too long, and I think that now it’s high time for it to be brought out of the darkness and into the light.”
From the corner of his eye he saw one or two journalists turn away and he knew he’d delivered the sound bite that was required. To give them more now would be to grandstand and more importantly would dilute the message that he’d been paid so handsomely to deliver.
Some journalists still had questions to ask but Miller caught the eye of the driver that was waiting for them and called a halt to the show.
“Thank you, that’s all we have to say. As you can appreciate my client’s had a long and stressful day and now she would like to get back home to her daughter.” With that he started to move away but as he did so he felt resistance on his arm. As he turned back he suddenly became aware that the mood of the journalists had undergone a subtle change, and there was an almost eerie sense of quiet fallen across them.
“I’d just like to say”, it took Miller a few seconds to realise that it was Claudia talking, her voice suddenly much stronger than he had ever heard it before, cutting through the remaining chatter of the group of journalists. He felt an impending sense of dread, heightened by the fact that he really wasn’t sure why.
“I’d just like to say thank you to someone who has been such a help to me and without whom we wouldn’t have got the justice that we found here today.”
Miller sub-consciously smoothed the features of his face, allowing just a touch of the smile that he felt to show through. The great councillor was about to be thanked by his grateful client, an added bonus to an already profitable day.
“I know they don’t want any publicity an’ all, but well I just couldn’t have funded this battle myself.”
The world around Miller seemed to freeze in the moment, “Shit, what was she about to say?”.
“I know they don’t want to be named”, Claudia continued and Miller, paralysed as he was, could still see that the journalists attention had been caught. “But I will say that today’s victory was not just for my daughter but for Chloe as well, she won’t be forgotten.”
The journalists erupted again into another barrage of questions but thankful Claudia had said her piece, the frightened mouse was back and Miller hastily shepherded her towards the car.
“Who’s Chloe?”
“Was she another internet victim?” the journalists called after her.
As the door of the town car slammed behind him and they pulled out into downtown traffic Miller wondered in any damage had been done.
