“All rise!” the bailiff intoned, and the crowd stood.
Judge Rothwell entered the room, his black robes swaying as he mounted the steps to the raised dais holding the judge’s desk. He tapped his gavel and bid the crowd to sit.
Patrick took a seat beside Mick and his publisher at the defendant’s table. The judge wasted no time in starting the proceedings.
“In the case of Blackstone vs. Carstairs Publishing, we are deciding if the plaintiffs have sufficient cause to prevent the publication of the defendant’s memoir. The burden of proof lies with the Blackstones, and it is a high bar. Freedom of speech is one of this country’s most cherished liberties. The plaintiffs are thereby required to prove serious and libelous intent in the memoir.”
A low murmur rose up from Mick’s crowd, but a single tap of Judge Rothwell’s gavel caused it to fade. The rules of the court required an expert to testify on the plaintiff’s behalf, and Oscar Blackstone had been chosen to explain the damage the memoir could cause the Blackstone Bank. He had a tough, battle-scarred appearance as he limped toward the witness stand. He leaned heavily on a cane and wore an eyepatch, all mementos of the hostility directed at the Blackstones.
The plaintiff’s attorney made the most of his client’s injuries. “Are you able to see me, sir?”
Oscar gave a curt nod. “As well as any one-eyed man can see.”
“How is it you came to have only one eye?”
Patrick stood. “Objection. Former crimes against the Blackstone family have no bearing on the case today.”
“Sustained,” the judge said. “Please proceed, Mr. Fletcher.”
The Blackstone attorney asked several questions regarding the importance of a bank’s reputation in conducting business, and Oscar easily answered them. Mind-numbing testimony about financial details dragged on for over an hour as the witness outlined how his bank forged alliances to fund large-scale corporations. The nation’s other largest bank, controlled by J.P. Morgan, would partner with the Blackstones to finance the creation of U.S. Steel, and that alliance could falter if the reputation of the Blackstones took a severe hit.
Patrick assumed a polite expression when it was his turn to cross-examine Oscar Blackstone. He rose and approached the witness box. “Mr. Blackstone, the success of your bank goes without question, but you have claimed that my client’s book libeled you. I must ask for specific examples in which my client unfairly defamed your family.”
Oscar raised his chin. “Page thirty-five, the second paragraph.”
Patrick slipped on a pair of clear glass spectacles. He didn’t need them, but they made him look smart. He opened the book, quickly spotted the insulting passage, and read it aloud for the court.
“‘Frederick Blackstone is the spawn of the devil, and his son is his sulfur-breathing henchman. My sainted grandmother used to tell me tales of demons that haunted the hills of Ireland, devouring the innocent and spitting out their bones after sucking the blood and marrow from their lifeless bodies. That’s who the Blackstones remind me of.’” He looked up at Oscar. “Is that the offending passage?”
“It is.”
“And are you the sulfur-breathing henchman referred to in the first sentence?”
Muffled laughter rose from the gallery, but Oscar maintained his dignity. “I assume so, yes.”
“This passage is Mr. Malone’s opinion, is it not? He merely states that you remind him of a terrifying demon.”
“It’s insulting and an outright lie,” Oscar said.
“A lie that you remind him of a blood-sucking demon? Others have gotten the same impression over the decades.”
Another spurt of laughter and stamping of feet came from the audience. The judge banged his gavel, and once again the crowd settled down.
“That’s why I’m here,” Oscar responded. “To stop this sort of insulting press.”
Patrick took a long and pointed look at the journalists in the front row. They were his best allies this morning. “Insulting press?” he asked. “Surely members of the press are entitled to their opinions, even if those opinions are unflattering.”
“But not libelous,” Oscar countered. “My bank is in the middle of the largest merger in this country’s history, and a sterling reputation is essential.”
Patrick turned to the judge. “Your Honor, I suggest that the passage I just read is only the opinion of the author and no intelligent reader could mistake it for a literal fact.” He turned back to Oscar. “Are there any other examples of libel in my client’s book?”
Oscar named the page, and Patrick once again flipped to the offending passage. His mouth twitched, but he fought back the laughter because Oscar had picked a rich one. He cleared his throat and read aloud.
“‘The Blackstones treat their employees worse than the pharaoh treated the slaves of Egypt.’ Is that the passage?”
“It is,” Oscar said. “We don’t know how the pharaoh treated his slaves, and Malone says we are worse than the pharaoh. We aren’t.”
“Do we know that?” Patrick asked. “Let’s see. I wonder if the pharaoh offered his slaves an eight-hour workday and a full thirty minutes for lunch. Blackstone-financed factories rarely do. I wonder if the pharaoh deliberately neglected to check the birth certificates of his slaves so he couldn’t be accused of exploiting underaged children. The companies you finance rarely confirm their youngest employees’ ages. So my hunch is that you and the pharaoh are giving each other competition in terms of raw exploitation.”
