Loucilla rang off. I shouted through the door, didn’t bother to pick up the office line.
“Luna! Get the DA and Benjamin Meyers into court. You tell them the judge says we gotta talk.”
CHAPTER
50
BULLOCK COUNTY COURTHOUSE UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA
I did that trick of mine. Took my seat at the bench before the hearing was scheduled. I wanted to see them all as they walked in. To get a feel for the situation. See where everyone’s head was. It’s lots easier to read people when they’re not quite ready for you, not prepared to be seen.
The DA arrived a little early. Maybe he was anticipating my move. Reeves walked in with a bounce in his step. Smile on his face. Looked like he’d won a hand pay at the casino.
That was interesting.
I called to him before he took his seat. “Will the AG’s office be assisting you today, Mr. Reeves?”
He paused with his hand on the back of his chair. “Why do you ask, Judge?”
The DA was already riling me. Getting my back up, and we hadn’t even begun. He was showing disrespect without cause. He had no reason to push back. I’m entitled to know who’s appearingin my court. “I want it for the record. The docket entry will need to reflect who’s representing the prosecution today.”
“Well,” he said, setting his laptop on the table. “That would be me.”
Then he smiled. Not at me, you understand. A private smile, like he knew something I didn’t know.
I was chewing on that, debating whether I should light into him now or later, when Ben Meyers entered the courtroom, with Dr. Gaines following behind.
I almost gawked. Had to pull a poker face, fast. Swiveled my chair to face my computer screen, tapped the keyboard like I was doing court business.
Faking it, in fact. I couldn’t even see what was on the screen. The sight of Bria Gaines walking into court was burned into my brain.
That poor woman.
It was crushing her. I could see it from my first glimpse. She couldn’t mask it. It had gone on too long, gone too far. Her eyes were swollen and puffy from lack of sleep. She was gaunt, her face hollowed out, cheekbones prominent.
She wasn’t eating, that was apparent. The weight loss wasn’t confined to her face. Her dress hung off her, like she was a kid wearing her big sister’s clothes. Reminded me of Jordan playing dress-up in my church clothes, when I was a teenager and she was in kindergarten.
As the defense settled in, I gave them the side-eye. Sneaked a glance at their table. Bria tried to compose herself, was working hard at it. She sat straight in her chair. Held her head up high.
But when she uncapped her pen, her hands shook so violently that she dropped it on the floor. It rolled under the counsel table. She scooted her chair back, like she meant to get down there onher knees and hunt for it. Her lawyer stopped her. Found her a fresh pen. She shot him a grateful look.
And then both of her hands disappeared from view. Hiding them on her lap, I suspected. She was self-conscious about the tremor.
I caught the DA checking Bria out. I could see his smug expression as he turned back to his laptop.
My face grew hot. I knew what was happening. The DA was easy to read; I’d had lots of practice.
Reeves wasn’t blind. He could also observe the physical changes Dr. Gaines had undergone, could see the impact his case was having on the defendant. He viewed it as a victory. He was breaking Bria Gaines down. That was part of his case strategy. To make her crumble.
Bria Gaines is a confident Black woman—or was, when the whole process began.
To somebody like Reeves, a confident Black woman is trouble. It’s a character trait he doesn’t want to deal with. Makes him uncomfortable. Not just Reeves. All the people who think like him.
They love it when we break.
The vibe in court was confirming my instinct. That this case needed to go to trial. But I needed to see Bria’s reaction, hear what her lawyer had to say.
I gave the gavel a rap, to get everyone’s attention.
