Judge Malone peered at him over the top of her bench. “Was your client servedwith a summons and a notification of the divorce within the allotted time frame?”
“Yes, Your Honor, but—”
“No buts. He doesn’t need to be a resident. She is, and she’s the plaintiff. Her residency gives this case jurisdiction.”
“But she’s not a US citizen,” the lawyer argued.
“Doesn’t matter. For the purposes of this court, she’s a resident of the state of Nevada.” She squinted at him. “Haveyou been admitted to the bar in the state of Nevada?”
“No, Your Honor. But—”
“I said, no buts. Bailiff, escort this person unknown to the court out of the courtroom.”
A uniformed bailiff strode to the lawyer’s side and walked with him out of the courtroom. The heavy door slammed at the back.
Judge Malone asked, “Anybody else want to say the word ‘but?’”
A whole bunch of downcast head-shakingfollowed. Flicka tried to keep from grinning at the tiny titan on the bench.
“As I was saying,” the judge went back to looking at her paperwork, “from the paperwork received by the court, the conditions in the first section of the prenuptial contract have been met. The marriage ceremony was less than five years from the date of filing, and there are no children to discuss custody for. Is thatcorrect? Also, you’re considered under oath as you are in a court of law. If you’d like to swear an oath, let me know, but you are speaking under the usual oath and must tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
Pierre didn’t speak.
The judge’s eyes crinkled in anger at Pierre’s table, and her shaking voice rose. “I asked if that information was correct.”
One of Pierre’slawyers rose to his feet. “My client contends that this court does not have jurisdiction because he is a resident of neither the United States nor Nevada, and he claims diplomatic immunity as a head of a sovereign state. Thus, my client refuses to answer.”
The judge’s scowl deepened. “And haveyoubeen admitted to the Nevada state bar?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Bailiff.” That lawyer was escorted downthe aisle and out the doors in the back of the courtroom. “Let’s save some time. Have any of the defendant’s attorneys been granted a license to practice law in the great state of Nevada?”
“No, ma’am,” they all answered.
“Bailiff,” the judge spat.
Flicka kept her head down and stared at the table. She knew better than to laugh at this turn of events. The lawyers at her table also engaged inthe utmost decorum while Pierre’s attorneys were led from the courtroom.
The judge scribbled a note and held it out to her clerk, who took the paper out of the courtroom through a door near the judge’s podium.
“But her attorneys—” Pierre said.
“—Haven’t said anything stupid,” the judge finished for him. “I’ll ask you once again, Mr. Grimaldi, and I remind you that you are under oath. The marriageceremony was less than five years from the date of filing, and there are no children to discuss custody for. Is that correct?”
Pierre stared at the table, not responding.
Several more uniformed bailiffs sidled into the courtroom through the side door.
“I can and will hold you in contempt of court,” the judge told Pierre. “Answer the question right now.”
Pierre folded his hands. “I do not recognizethis court’s jurisdiction in the matter of my marriage.”
“Yeah, that’s too bad for you.” The judge turned toward Flicka. “Will you answer the question?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Flicka said quickly. “It’s been less than five years, and there are no children and will not be any children from the marriage.”
“You’re positive? Woman to woman?”
