The side doors open and the three men are brought out—Jace, Levi, and Nico—each wearing clean, pressed clothes that don’t quite hide the strain in their faces. They look thinner, older, but when Jace meets my eyes, his mouth twitches in a small, hopeful smile. My heart squeezes.
Jinn isn’t here. He was already sentenced a few weeks ago. I didn’t show up but Marcy did. She was brave enough to outline the details of all his crimes, and thanks to her, they recovered the money that Jinn had smuggled in the rented penthouse where stayed.
The judge enters, and everyone rises. My knees nearly buckle with nerves, but Marcy squeezes my hand under the table.
Wilson Decker rises from the defense table, adjusts his glasses, and faces the judge with the careful confidence of a man who has lived through more than one legal war. The courtroom is quiet, every head turned his way. Even the reporters in the back seem to sense that this isn’t just another day in court.
“Your Honor,” Wilson begins, voice clear and steady, “I move to dismiss all charges against my clients, Levi Maren, Jace Calhoun, and Nico Maren. The case before you is built on a chain of government coercion, manipulation of a key witness, and conduct by federal law enforcement that goes far beyond the spirit or letter of the law.”
He lets that settle for a moment, then walks toward the jury box. “Let’s begin with the facts. My client, Ms. Carrie Saxe, was approached repeatedly by Agent Rodriguez of the ATF. She was pressured—by direct threat, by suggestion, and by false promises—to take a job at the state prison. She was told that her participation would help bring down a dangerous criminal organization. What she was not told, Your Honor, is that Agent Rodriguez was himself involved with the very suspects he was meant to investigate.”
Wilson turns, nods to me. “You’ve heard Ms. Saxe’s testimony, how she was manipulated, how Agent Rodriguez made her believe her cooperation was necessary for her own safety, her family’s safety, and even to protect her unborn child. These are not the tactics of honest law enforcement. These are tactics meant to break the will of a frightened citizen and to fabricate evidence against men who had already been marked for destruction.”
He pauses, then gestures to the stack of exhibits on the evidence table. “You have before you text messages, phone records, audio recordings, and security footage that demonstrate not just the collusion between Agent Rodriguez and the known criminal, Jinn Parker, but also the pattern of threats against my client and against their legal counsel, myself included. We have emails where Rodriguez threatens to ruin reputations. We have video of Rodriguez meeting with Jinn Parker at a restaurant, where—thanks to Ms. Saxe’s warning—federal authorities were able to verify his presence at the scene.The footage was not produced by law enforcement. It was kept hidden until Ms. Saxe came forward. That alone should cast doubt on the integrity of this investigation.”
Wilson’s voice is starting to carry, filling the courtroom with every word. “Jinn Parker has already been sentenced for his crimes. His life sentence without parole came after the truth of his association with Rodriguez was brought to light. Yet my clients, who did everything in their power to expose the corruption and protect innocent people, remain on trial for the very crimes orchestrated by a corrupt federal agent.”
He steps closer to the bench, meeting the judge’s eyes. “Your Honor, the state’s own case cannot stand without the poisoned tree planted by Rodriguez. Every witness who testified against my clients, every bit of evidence the prosecution presents, flows directly from his misconduct. And, most egregiously, from the government’s manipulation of Ms. Saxe, an innocent woman used as a pawn in a federal agent’s scheme.”
He breathes, lets the silence deepen. “Justice demands the dismissal of these charges. The system cannot hold citizens to account for acts committed under coercion, intimidation, and outright criminal manipulation by its own officers.”
For a moment, there’s only the hush of the air vents and the scratch of pens.
The prosecutor rises, buttoning his jacket. He moves to the podium, face set in a mask of professional neutrality. “Your Honor, the defense presents a compelling narrative, but the law does not grant immunity simply because law enforcement was aggressive. The ATF’s investigation was under intense pressure. While Agent Rodriguez’s actions were out of line, and he has already been removed from the agency and faces his own charges, that does not mean all evidence or all witness testimony is tainted. The jury is entitled to hear what happened and to weigh the credibility of the witnesses, including Ms. Saxe.”
He spreads his hands, turning to the jury. “This is not a question for a judge to decide at this stage. It is a question of fact, of credibility. Let the people’s representatives weigh the evidence.”
He sits, and the judge folds her hands on the bench, eyes unreadable. For a long moment, she reviews her notes, the exhibits, everything Wilson placed in front of her.
Then she speaks, voice steady, but not unkind. “Mr. Decker, the court is deeply concerned about the conduct of Agent Rodriguez and the circumstances under which Ms. Saxe was drawn into this investigation. These allegations are troubling and will be carefully considered by the court and by the jury. However, as a matter of law, these questions go to the weight of the evidence—not its admissibility. The motion to dismiss is denied.”
Wilson just gives a small nod, jaw clenched, and returns to the table. “We’re not finished,” he whispers, just for me.
The bailiff calls for a short recess to prepare for the jury’s entrance. Chairs scrape. The prosecution and defense murmur quietly at their tables. The audience shuffles, stretching legs and stretching nerves.
I gather my things, hands shaking as I tuck my statement back into my purse.
I scan the benches for Jace, Levi, and Nico. Jace catches my eye, gives the barest hint of a smile, but there’s exhaustion in his face. Levi and Nico sit close, heads together, sharing a word I can’t hear.
Wilson leans over the table, voice low but urgent. “We’re still in this, Carrie. We’ve got the jury now, and everything’s on the record. Just keep your answers clear, honest. They need to believe what we already know.”
I nod, drawing in a long, steady breath. “I’ll do my best.”
The bailiff calls us back to order, and the jury files in—a cross-section of the county, some faces curious, others guarded. I feel every eye as I take the stand again. My hands grip the wood.
The prosecutor starts with calm, pointed questions. He walks me through the whole story, detail by detail. What did Rodriguez tell you? Why did you take the prison job? What was your relationship with the defendants? Did you help them break out?
He tries to paint it all as a tangled mess, like I was too close to the men, like maybe I wanted to be part of the chaos. But I keep my answers to the point, like Wilson taught me. “Rodriguez threatened me. I thought I was helping the government, not betraying anyone.” When he asks if I’m trying to protect the men I love, I say, “I’m just telling the truth. They were set up.”
When Marcy is called, her hands shake a little but her voice is steady. She tells them about the calls, the night Rodriguez showed up, how scared she was and why she finally decided to speak up.
Wilson’s questions are simple, helping us both sound like ourselves. “Why did you come forward, Carrie?”
I say, “Because what Rodriguez did was wrong. I couldn’t keep living like that.”
Marcy says, “I just wanted to do the right thing.”
After hours of evidence—text messages, call logs, video clips—my head spins. The judge finally calls it for the day. “Court is adjourned until tomorrow.”
