Mediation （n.） – Liam
MEDIATION (N.):
THE ATTEMPT TO SETTLE A LEGAL DISPUTE THROUGH ACTIVE PARTICIPATION OF A THIRD PARTY (MEDIATOR) WHO WORKS TO FIND POINTS OF AGREEMENT AND MAKE THOSE IN CONFLICT AGREE ON A FAIR RESULT.
LIAM
One Week Later
Knicks4Life
Yo. EFF this judge and the high horse he rode into court on.
He gave me 40 hours of community service AND a $500 fine for pissing in an alley!
Juror765
But like…Why were you pissing in an alley?
Harlem8s
If it’s any consolation, I heard someone took a sledgehammer to his cars last week.
Knicks4Life
Pics or it didn’t happen…
Harlem8s
I work at his condo building. It’s true. He was PISSED. [image] [image] [image]
Knicks4Life
Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.
Maybeth568-2
SEEEEEE?!
THIS is exactly what I was talking about!
Maybeth568-2
The stupid moderators tried to silence me, but it’s clear that VENGEANCE is on ALL our minds! Who wants to burn down his chambers with me this weekend?
User Maybeth568-2 has been banned from the group for terrorist threats.
Ilogged out of the thread, still beyond “pissed” about the damage to my cars. According to my insurance company, they wouldn’t be fixed for at least six weeks.
I’d mentally drafted a long list of ways to punish Olivia for this—because the extra device in her car wasn’t enough—but none of my ways seemed fitting enough.
They were also illegal as hell…
“Maybe I should let her get a taste of prison…” I muttered under my breath.
“Sir, you have to stop looking at those Reddit threads.” My bailiff, George, stepped into my chambers with a file. “I can assure you that no one is stupid enough to attack you in a courthouse.”
“Actually, there’s one person who might.”
“Who?”
I didn’t answer that.
“I need you to do me a favor,” I said instead.
“Anything.”
“Go down to the admin office and ask them to send me the personal addresses of every person who had a bench warrant this month.”
“All of them?” he asked. “Is there someone you’re looking for in particular?”
Clearly. “No, it’s nothing personal. Just make sure they send me all of them.”
“Will do.” He nodded. “By the way, I would start watching your back whenever you’re not on courthouse grounds, especially over the next few weeks.”
“Why’s that?”
“You haven’t heard the news this morning?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Did someone vandalize my other car?”
“The Supreme Court just overturned your ruling on the Grant Jenkins case and ordered a new trial,” he said. “They also let him out of prison to prepare for it…”
“This better be a late April Fool’s joke, George.”
“I never joke about cases with you, Liam…” He pulled a sheet from his folder and handed it to me.
There it was in black and white.
The front page of The New York Times greeted me with a picture of a man I fucking despised walking out of prison under an umbrella and an ugly gray headline.
‘What if The Verdict Was Wrong?’
My pulse spiked as I read the article, and every word made me breathe a little slower.
I still remembered every aspect of this asshole’s case, every single second he sat in my presence, and the very moment I brought down my gavel to put him away.
The media hounded me relentlessly for months—accusing me of being “too harsh,” and “utterly unfair.” The Innocence Project started a campaign to get me thrown off the bench, and to this day, the local reporters called any harsh sentence—from any judge—“The Judge Ashton special.”
“This article isn’t written like a grocery list,” I turned over the sheet. “It doesn’t even mention why it was overturned…”
“Jury misbehavior, apparently.” He handed me another sheet. “Two of the jurors received a fifty-thousand bribe for a guilty verdict, apparently.”
It was seventy-five thousand dollars…
“It was nothing you did, of course.” He shrugged. “I just thought you should know.”
“I see.” I swallowed. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I’m sure he’ll be found guilty all over again,” he said. “You ran a tight trial and were more than fair to him.”
I wasn’t—at all, but no one ever needed to know that.
And they definitely didn’t need to know why…
“You want to join me and Mara for dinner this evening?” I changed the subject. “My treat.”
“Depends on what you’re ordering.”
“I’ll let you pick.”
“In that case—I want steak from that five-hundred dollar place on Broadway. With the truffle mashed potatoes, the chef’s special arugula, and a glass of wine since I’ll technically be off the clock.”
“You’re pushing it…”
“Only because you offered it.” He smiled. “Is that a no?”
“I’ll have it delivered here after the final arraignments.”
“Looking forward to it.” He winked and left the room.
I picked up the article once more, slowly reading over the second part as the walls closed in on me.
Every sentence was a potential warning—a foreshadowing of what could possibly come if anyone discovered just how far I went to send this man to prison.
Then again…I could make moves now to make sure that never happened.
I picked up my phone and immediately called Mara.
“I’m running late,” she answered on the first ring. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be right there with your first set of arraignments.”
“This isn’t about that,” I said. “Where are we on hiring my new law clerks?”
“There are fifteen decent options so far. They’re giving me three weeks to conduct the final round of interviews.”
“Get it done in two weeks,” I said. “And hire six of them. I need all the help I can get…”