She takes one last sip of her drink, handing it off to the intern again, who scurries away to dispose of it, and takes her place behind the prosecutor’s table. She’s comfortable here, and without a hair out of place, she looks like she owns the room.
“Hi,” Jo whispers, sliding in next to me in the first row. Lochlan beside her.
“What are you guys doing here?”
“Liv didn’t think she’d need Lochlan to take the stand today, but she said it would look good for us to be here. To show a stand against Randall Porter and what he did.”
This trial shouldn’t be as intense as Jeremiah’s next week because Randall didn’t actually get his hands dirty. But we all know he’s the evil mastermind.
The judge enters and goes through his normal motions, and nerves creep down my spine. This is the first real trial I’ve witnessed Liv partake in, and as confident in her abilities as I am, I don’t know how she handles the pressure.
“Mr. Porter has fired his legal counsel and chooses to represent himself today. All testimony will be done under oath. Do you have any objections, Miss Greenwood?” Judge Fulton asks.
“No, your honor,” she replies coolly, but there is humor in her voice. Porter is an idiot.
“Very well, proceed.”
“Thank you, your honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” she starts. “We have an obligation as a society to adhere to the laws that keep us safe. Protected. We’re here today because Mr. Porter did not believe in following the law. He tried to take shortcuts, and people got hurt because of it.
“I realize that many of you might recognize the man in the courtroom today. He’s from a local astute family. He was even the mayor of the neighboring town of Langston. Don’t be fooled by his outward appearance. He has only let you see what he wants you to see.
“If you’ll look this way.” She points to a projector that the intern is manning. “These are the documents that he does not want you to see. Intimidation. Falsifying penal codes. Blackmail. Extortion.”
Some of the jurors scribble in their notepads as the different images flash on the screen. Images of papers that I’ve seen on Lochlan’s kitchen table. All the attempts by Porter to steal his property.
“Mr. Porter wanted Mr. Dane’s property. He didn’t like that it wasn’t for sale, and he really didn’t like that he couldn’t bribe his way to it. Mr. Porter is a bully–”
“Objection!” Porter screeches, but the judge puts his hand up to calm him down.
“Miss Greenwood,” Judge Fulton urges.
“It’s relevant, your honor.”
“Proceed.”
“Mr. Porter is a bully, but he could not bully Lochlan Dane. Does that man look like someone who can be threatened?” She gestures to Lochlan, and it takes everything in me not to smirk.
Lochlan hates this level of attention.
The jury looks aghast at Lochlan’s intimidating presence, agreeing with Liv easily.
“So instead of taking his loss, Mr. Porter stooped low. He decided to harass Mr. Dane’s property. His animals. His employees. Not only is this against the law, but it’s simply unacceptable. We cannot take things that don’t belong to us.”
She takes a stroll from her table towards the jurors.
“Mr. Porter wants you to believe that his brother, Jeremiah, is at fault for all the damage he caused, but that is not the truth. He back-stabbed his brother in this very room, splitting from his defense to save himself. My guess? He split from his lawyer this morning for the same reason. Mr. Porter does not like to lose, but unfortunately for him, I’m here to ensure that happens today.” She walks back to her table, but I’m notlooking at her.
My eyes are glued to Porter behind his table. He’s looking at Liv as if he’s holding a knife to her throat, and I don’t fucking like it.
His anger rattles his voice as he starts his own defense, but it’s sloppy and not nearly as articulate as Liv’s. I hardly hear his argument because each time his steps take him within feet of her, my body tenses.
I don’t like this guy, and I don’t like how she is forced to be close to him. He hates her guts.
“I did not have a hand in any violence, and the prosecutor cannot prove this. That is why she chooses to assassinate my character,” he spews, pacing the floor.
“As many of you probably relate, I am not forced to be friends with my family members. I am not close to my brother. I am not his keeper. I had no say in his criminal actions. I think the lack of evidence from Miss Greenwood proves this.” He sits in his seat and adopts a smug look on his face, preparing for Liv’s counterargument.
She stands, rounding her desk before leaning against the table top with a casual air. She points her remote at the projector and clicks one time.
