Page 124 of The Wrong Side of the Law

“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” Mark says, chuckling nervously. “Like I said, the defense reserves the right to recall Ms. Jean-Jacques, but I don’t have any questions at this time. The prosecution seems to have asked them for me already.”

“Thank you, Mister Anderson.” The judge leans forward, fixing Gabriel with a stare. “ASA Cooper, call your next witness.”

Gabriel has only one witness remaining to call, and it’s going to be my undoing. He’s going to call the lab technician to the stand, the one who did the analysis of the drug samples taken from Frank, and Mark is going to counter it with our own analysis, conducted on the tainted sample.

He stands to address the court.

“The prosecution calls…” Gabriel’s voice trails off as he looks over his shoulder again. He understands the significance of what’s going to happen now. His eyes are tired and hopeless when they land on me, full of sadness.I’m sorry, he seems to say.

Gabriel has sabotaged his case as much as he can, and Mark has savaged what’s left, but that’s still no guarantee that Frank will walk away from here.

It’s okay. I’m ready for it. And my brother’s freedom is worth it.

His eyes slide past me, though, for once final look at the rear, to whatever it is he’s been waiting for. He’s not expecting anything… but hopelessness becomes joy in the space of a heartbeat.

“It’s confirmed?” Gabriel asks. “Are yousure?”

Who’s he talking to? I turn to look, and it’s the same young man that brought him the message yesterday. He’s nodding, making exaggerated and definite motions, and holding two thumbs up.

“ASA Cooper,” the judge breaks in, “I have had exactly enough of whatever this foolishness is that you’re playing at. You will proceed with your case, and you will proceed with no further interruptions or stalling or stupidity, or I will hold you in contempt and let you consider the subject overnight in a jail cell. Do. You. Understand. Me?”

“Loud and clear, Your Honor,” Gabriel says, drawing himself up to his full height. The broad grin on his face doesn’t look very chastened, however. “I apologize for the conduct of these proceedings to this point, Your Honor, and I will cease—immediatelycease—my part in making a mockery of your court, and of the justice system.”

“Your part?Yourpart, Mister Cooper?”

“Yes, Your Honor.Mypart.”

Gabriel half-turns, and I’m sure it’s purely by coincidence that he’s getting as much of his face as possible in the field of view of the camera crew from CNN before he explains.

“We have uncovered certain exculpatory evidence—no, I haven’t given it to the defense yet, as I only received confirmation just seconds ago—that strongly indicates that the defendant, Francis Wilson, Junior, was not knowingly in possession of MDMA.”

He looks around the room, finding every eye settled on him, every spectator hanging on his words.

“The previous convictions that my opposing counsel mentioned in his opening statement—Michael Griffin, Stephen Chamberlain, and Julia Yee—are relevant, here. Those three young people are also in prison right now for trafficking in MDMA, yet for whatever reason there was never a complete, thorough set of lab tests done on the drugs in their cases. Through cooperation with the Drug Enforcement Agency, that has now been rectified.”

The expectant crowd takes in a simultaneous breath. So do I, but for an entirely different reason. Does this mean…?

“These four samples of MDMA are utterly unique,” Gabriel says.

Hope begins to grow in me. Hope not just for Frank’s freedom, but for my own as well.

“Utterly unique, and completely identical. They were made by the same—as yet unknown—chemist, and based on the composition of the adulterants used, are almost certainly from the same batch. And yet, in these four cases, separated by a span of six years, almost seven, there is one glaring point of commonality: Robert Ferry. Though I cannot prove his involvement—the DEA is working on that as we speak—I am confident enough in their efficiency that at this time I move this court to dismiss all charges against the defendant, Francis Wilson Junior, and I further move this court for a finding of factual innocence in this matter.”

All the nerves and fear I’ve built up over the past weeks, for my own future and my brother’s, evaporate, leaving me relieved yet too limp even to reach over the railing to touch Frank’s shoulder.

“Youidiot!” a voice yells from the rear of the courtroom, intruding on my dizzy relief.

It’s Whitehall, and he’s advancing up the aisle, red-faced and sweating. His outburst is the first crack in the dam, though, and every reporter in the courtroom is on their feet, shouting questions, holding out microphones and recorders and taking pictures to chronicle the chaos.

Judge Merryweather bangs his gavel repeatedly, calling for order, and two deputies move closer to the bench, ready to intercept the State Attorney, if necessary.

“You’rethrough, Cooper! You’redone!You’refired, and as soon as I can get on the phone to the bar committee, you’re heading for disbarment!”

“Mister State Attorney,” the judge barks, pointing at Whitehall with the gavel. “You will restrain yourself. And if you can’t, I’ll have these deputies restrain you. I’ve had exactlyenoughridiculousness in my courtroom for one day.” The judge points the gavel at Gabriel, next. “Andyou, Mister Cooper. Do you have anything else you want to add before you visit the unemployment office?”

“As it happens, Your Honor, I do. From the beginning, State Attorney Whitehall has been pushing on this case, pushing for a conviction. Pushing to make it fast. On the one hand, it would appear to be his duty, and that’s how it seemed at first. But recently, new facts have come to light, and certain actions taken by the State Attorney must be viewed from a different perspective.”

“What are you saying, Cooper?” The judge—in spite of himself—is curious.

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