Page 34 of The Hardest Hit
“Yeah, but not lately. I want to get the vibe in the courtroom.”
“Well, word to the wise, keep it low profile.”
Jackson gave him a look. “Because I’m so well-known for my publicity stunts?”
Pete grinned. “Just saying.”
Jackson slid into the back of the courtroom. Unlike what was shown on every TV show ever, the courtroom was utilitarian and the audience was virtually empty, consisting of three interested-looking college students who were probably there as homework, a homeless man who was sleeping in the corner, and a couple of reporters who looked bored. One of the reporters was a sketch artist and he was waiting for the court to convene by sketching the students and homeless man. Jackson sat in the back row, but behind the artist so that he wouldn’t be sketched.
When Granger had first been indicted, the courtroom had been packed and Aiden had forbidden any of the Deveraux from attending. Since Eleanor’s senate hearings were also in full swing, there was too much opportunity to look like they were interfering in the case. For almost a week, it had looked like Granger would be indicted for hiring the mercenaries who had attacked them, and the Deveraux children had watched the news with bated breath. And then Eleanor had gotten a call.
Homeland security was not granting access to the mercenaries. They were too valuable to ongoing security efforts. They would not be allowed to testify in open court. And without their testimony, no charges could be brought. Fortunately, the evidence Eleanor had already turned up in the Senate allowed for indictments on governmental fraud. Granger wasn’t being charged for the fraudulent research or the deaths of veterans, but defrauding the government… sure, that was a crime.
Aiden’s most recent update on the case said that it was not going well for Granger—tax fraud, perjury, and three other legalese phrases that meant nothing to Jackson had been heaped on the initial charge. Granger had been summarily replaced as the Absolex CEO and the company was doing all it could to distance itself. Granger had made a stand, saying that they were trumped-up charges based on the work of people he’d already fired or let go. But it hadn’t flown legally. Socially, Dominique and Eleanor had ensured that J.P. Granger could not get a reservation anywhere and was no longer invited to participate in anything. And Evan’s most recent efforts to bankrupt Absolex would probably put the nail Granger’s coffin financially. The short story was that Granger was in a world of hurt.
The bailiff entered, then the lawyers, then Granger came in with his team, although, his “team” had now been reduced to one lawyer and a woman who Jackson thought was probably a junior clerk. The bailiff called for them to rise and Jackson stood along with the others. He’d always hated this part. It was the height of absurdity that some rich pompous old man in a robe could make a judgment on any part of his life. To knuckle under and stand for some a-hole who had simply managed to blow the right people in college and line the right pockets on the way to ballot box galled Jackson. He was a little surprised to find that being a Deveraux hadn’t made that feeling go away, but he was amused to see that it was a feeling that Granger shared. The lawyer had to poke him sharply to get him to barely stand and then he dropped into his seat on the first syllable of “You may be seated.”
Jackson eyed Granger. He was broad-shouldered and thick across the middle, hazel eyes and dark brown hair going gray rather abruptly because he must have stopped dying recently. He had probably been good-looking enough in his youth, but currently, his eyes were bloodshot and bagged and his skin was sallow. He looked like he’d been on a three-week bender and was still hungover. He also looked bitterly, venomously angry.
The lawyers stood and took their turns talking. Jackson looked around the empty courtroom. Granger had three ex-wives and a child somewhere, an aunt up-state, and a smattering of cousins, but no one was here. No friends, no relatives, nothing. It was just Granger and the people he paid to be there. Jackson remembered the last time he’d been in court. It had been much the same for him. Only his lawyer had been appointed by the state.
Jackson wondered what would happen now if he were arrested and hauled into court. Aiden would be livid for a start and then start building his defense. Pete would probably sayI told you so,since the odds of him being arrested for something he hadn’t done seemed slim, and then try and dig up evidence to help him. Dominique would be very disappointed and then probably start some sort of vicious smear campaign against the prosecuting attorney and a marketing campaign on what a saint Jackson was. Eleanor would probably publicly distance herself while privately pressuring a good many people to do the “right” thing. And Evan… Jackson wasn’t sure what Evan would do.
The argument in front of the court today, as far as Jackson could tell without Aiden to interpret, was about whether or not Granger would await trial as an inmate or a free man. The lawyer was arguing that Granger had made every court date and appearance and not even been out of state, that the Federal government had frozen many of his assets and that his net worth had recently taken a significant hit in the stock market. In essence, Granger was not only trustworthy but broke.
The problem with this argument from Jackson’s perspective was that the judge did not like Granger’s attitude. The palpable waves of fury coming from Granger made the idea of giving him anything he wanted seem like losing and the house always had to win.
Finally, J.P. Granger stood and shuffled to the microphone to make a personal statement. He had a three-by-five card and read from it word for word through clenched teeth.
“Thank you for your time this afternoon. I am respectfully requesting that I continue to be free on my own recognizance. I have always supported the court system and continue to be invested in this process. I look forward to my day in court.”
Granger sat down again and Jackson thought his lawyer looked relieved.
“Any final thoughts from the state?” asked the judge.
“No, your honor,” said the prosecutor.
The judge stalled, fiddling with his gavel. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision.
“Very well. Then, Mr. Granger, I will expect to see you at trial. Don’t abuse our trust.”
He swung the gavel and Granger immediately stood, snatching his coat, preparing to leave. The lawyer barely restrained him until the judge was off the bench. Then Granger swung around and began to move back up the aisle. He stopped halfway, seeing Jackson, and going red in the face.
“Come to gloat?” he snarled. Jackson said nothing. He didn’t see the percentage in it. Granger took a few more steps, his stride stiff and short.
“No, no, no, no,” said his lawyer catching up to him and grabbing him by the arm, but Granger continued to move toward Jackson. Jackson stood up and waited.
“Leave it!” barked the law clerk, standing in between Granger and Jackson. She pointed commandingly toward the door as though Granger were a bad dog, and with a snarl, Granger went.
Granger paused at the door and took one last look at Jackson. “I hope you all die,” he said and then slammed the courtroom door in the law clerk’s face. She took a deep breath and then pushed through the door after him.
“Mr. Deveraux,” said the reporter, shoving his phone at Jackson. “Any comment on today’s proceedings.”
“No comment,” said Jackson, and he left quickly, taking the opposite direction in the hall, away from Granger who was heading for the stairs and probably the parking garage. Jackson ducked into the men’s room, and then loitered in the lobby, before finally headed outside, intending to take the long way to his parking spot to give Granger plenty of time to clear the building. He had made it barely three steps out of the front door when he realized his error.
In the middle of the stairs, grandstanding in front of a gaggle of reporters beneath the statue of Blind Justice was Ralph Taggert.
Ralph Taggert was round like a Thanksgiving turkey and liked to wear suspenders under a pinstripe blue suit and carry a handkerchief to mop the fat sweats he was prone to.
