Courts and Cabals 2 by G.S. D'Moore (warren buffett book recommendations TXT) 📗

temples and missed most of what the clerk said, but Marcella yanked me to my feet when the judge addressed me.

“Mr. Dupree,” everyone heard the curiosity in his voice. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a novel supernatural in my courtroom.”

“It’s the first time I’ve been in a courtroom,” I fired back before I could stop myself. “Your Honor,” I added so he didn’t throw the book at me.

“I have a motion to immediately put before the court, Your Honor,” the prosecution used my remark to butt in. He handed the bailiff a piece of paper to bring to the judge. “This motion is to immediately dismiss co-counsel for the defendant. Ms. Marcella Caldwell is registered with the WRA as a vampire elder. The abilities of this classification of supernaturals are well documented, and her ability to influence any part of the legal process, or anyone in this courtroom for that matter, is grounds for dismissal.”

“Are you suggesting,” the judge’s grandfatherly demeanor melted away. He lost the old story-teller quality and morphed into a mean-looking bastard who used a belt on his kids when they misbehaved; “that a vampire is able to muddle my thoughts and influence me to rule on cases outside the guidance and wisdom of the law?”

“Dumbass,” I couldn’t hide my grin as the government lawyer paled a shade. I didn’t know who the judge was, but he wasn’t a pushover.

“Of course not, Your Honor,” the lawyer babbled.

“If I may, Your Honor,” Marcella stood, and waited for the judge to acknowledge her. “I am indeed a vampire elder with the skills the prosecution suggests. However, I am also a lawyer. I graduated top of my class from Stanford. I passed the California and New York State Bar on the first try. I even aced it. I have every right to be here, and to say that I don’t, is a violation of the New York Bar Associations standards of conduct, half a dozen federal and state laws, as well as common human decency. In twenty-twenty, I thought we’d be beyond such casual racism,” she sat back down with a flourish that showed me a lot of leg.

“Down boy,” I told my dick as it strained against my pants.

The government lawyer sputtered like a stalled jalopy. He was so busy defending his own reputation that he didn’t even have time to defend his motion.

“Your motion is denied,” the judge ruled as he looked over the prosecution’s document. “Your motion doesn’t meet the statutory guidance for dismissal of counsel. A number of the people in this room can do super human things,” the judge was one of them, and judging by his expression, he was proud of it. “Just because someone can do something doesn’t mean negative action should be taken against them. We judge people on what they do, not what they can do; human, supernatural, Fae, we’re all capable of great and terrible things.”

“I like this guy,” I wasn’t stupid enough to meet his eyes again, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t nod in agreement.

“If I may, Your Honor,” Marcella got to her feet again, “we also have a motion and supporting documentation to present the court.”

“The people haven’t even levied charges against . . .”

“This goes directly to the charges, Your Honor,” she interrupted the prosecution, and the judge nodded for her to continue.

I had no idea if this was how court was supposed to go, but if this was how it worked, it was good reality TV. I’d watch a show where the hot lawyer screwed with the government stooge any day of the week. Putting “screw” and Marcella in the same thought made me need to adjust my pants. It was a very confusing kind of day.

“First, we have a motion for dismissal, and supporting documentation,” she held up a hand as the prosecution opened his mouth to object.

“I have sworn affidavits and witness statements directly refuting the prosecution’s charge of assault on a police officer. Those affidavits are from the officers in question who admit that they were not able to identify my client, or anyone else in the car that opened fire on them.”

The judge took the documents to peruse while a copy was handed to the government lawyers. The judge’s eyebrows rose as he read, and he turned his gaze on the prosecution. “Do you care to refute this?”

“You Honor . . .” the government lawyer was clearly off his game now. “We just received these. How can the court expect . . .?”

“This court expects you to be able to provide evidence to the charges you’re bringing. I have those listed as assault on a police officer, and failing to register per the WRA; are those the charges?”

“Yes, Your Honor, but . . .”

“But nothing, counselor,” the judge pierced him with his gaze and the man visibly quivered. “The only evidence you’ve provided is circumstantial and based on a timeline the defense is bound to poke holes in. The defense has sworn testimony from the officers involved in the altercation. Can you, or can’t you, provide more evidence for this charge?”

I could see the government lawyer sweating, and I hoped he got a bad case of swamp ass.

“No, Your Honor,” the prosecution exhaled in defeat.

“Then I will grant the defense’s motion and dismiss that charge,” he banged his gavel, and the Sword of Damocles I didn’t even know was hovering over my head disappeared.

I grinned like an idiot, and tapped my feet in a little jig.

“How do you plead on the charge of violating the WRA by not registering?” the judge moved on.

“Your Honor, may we approach?” Marcella asked, catching both the judge and prosecution by surprise.

The judge paused for a moment to consider, but nodded. Marcella winked at me as she got up and sauntered up to the