Chapter 34 #2
The courtroom doors opened, cutting him off. All heads turned at once. A ripple of whispers followed as five men in tailored suits walked in. Confident. Cocky. They carried their briefcases with an attitude as if they were guns.
At the front of them was a shorter, older man. Round and bald with a long nose. His presence changed the mood in the room.
Everything stopped. We all stared at him in confusion as he walked straight up to me. Not the defense table. Not the judge. Me.
He stopped, pulled a pen from his jacket, and handed me papers.
“Sign this,” he said.
At the same time, one of his associates rushed over to Sean and placed a stack of documents on the defense table.
I looked down at the papers in my hand.
Retainer Agreement and Substitution of Counsel.
My gaze lifted slowly over the man’s golden silk tie until our eyes met.
“Robert Goldberg,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
Across the room, Kara Belmont and her team recovered from the initial shock. Their murmurs turned frantic. Papers shuffled hectically.
“Mr. Goldberg!” Judge McKenna said. His tone had changed completely. It was warm and friendly now. “I think you might have the wrong courtroom,” he added with a smile.
“I wish I had the wrong state,” Goldberg joked. “We were supposed to be in the Hamptons with George, Betty, and the grandkids.” He paused. “And I’d like the record to reflect that my wife is currently alone with toddler triplets. If her day doesn’t end well, neither will mine.”
Laughter moved through the courtroom. The attorney walked up to the bench and handed the judge a set of papers. “I’ve been retained to take over Mrs. Alderwyn’s defense.”
Kara Belmont was on her feet instantly. “Your Honor, that’s not possible.”
“Not possible?” Goldberg turned toward her. “This is America. And in America, people are allowed to change counsel at any time. So, the Alderwyns are changing counsel.” He tilted his head. “Deputy AG Beemont, isn’t it? Or close enough, I guess. May I, Your Honor?”
He gestured toward Sean Holt’s table.
“Of course,” Judge McKenna said, leaning back in his chair.
All eyes were on Goldberg as he crossed the room and picked up Sean’s file, flipped it open, and skimmed it.
Once.
Twice.
Then his head shook slowly.
“Good God,” he said. “Your Honor, is this case something else or what?”
Judge McKenna exhaled through his nose. Like someone finally understood him. “It is indeed.”
Goldberg nodded, then turned toward Belmont and her team.
“Let’s begin with the obvious,” Goldberg said. “This court was ambushed with surprise evidence, a minor was nearly strong-armed onto the stand without a guardian’s permission, and a documented, violent attack by the real suspect was treated like a footnote, despite nearly killing another victim.”
He pointed at me, eyeing my cast and my swollen, bruised face.
“And months into this case,” he continued, “the State still hasn’t carried out the court-ordered psychological evaluation of a mentally suffering, dying defendant, who remains incarcerated.
That order came from a judge. It was not unclear.
It was not optional. And it was bluntly ignored by the State despite repeated requests from my client’s family.
At this point, Your Honor, we are no longer talking about mistakes.
This isn’t just disrespect toward the orders of this court and the judges who issued them.
This is a severe violation of due process rights under the Constitution.
And, dear God, let’s not even talk about discovery, which was treated like an optional trip reimbursement insurance rather than a legal requirement.
I’ll be honest, Your Honor, I’m not even sure where to begin here. ”
He glanced at Belmont, a disgusted look on his face.
“But let’s start by putting an end to the State’s Wild West show.”
Judge McKenna flipped through the papers in front of him. He stopped and looked up over his glasses.
“The court-ordered psychological evaluation still hasn’t been completed by the State?”
“Your Honor,” Belmont said quickly, “the State didn’t refuse the evaluation. There were scheduling issues, and the medical transport presented complications. We intended to complete it soon.”
The awkward silence that followed lingered just long enough for Sean to use it. “Your Honor, may I be excused?”
Judge McKenna nodded.
Sean stepped forward and extended his hand to Goldberg. The shake was firm.
“Good luck, Goldberg,” Sean said.
Goldberg answered with a single nod.
Then Sean hurried over to us. He leaned in. “Sign now.”
That was it. I watched as he turned and walked out.
Goldberg’s team moved immediately. Two of the lawyers slipped into the public benches, ordering people to make room. The other two sat next to Lacey.
One of them reached out, offering his hand. But she didn’t look at him. Didn’t move. So he withdrew his hand as if nothing had happened. Like she was completely normal.
“Your Honor, may I?” Goldberg asked.
He stepped closer to the bench. Belmont moved at the same time, asking if she might join as well.
“May we speak in chambers for a moment?” Goldberg said. “I have serious concerns that need to be voiced.”
After a beat, the judge nodded and stood.
“Good idea. Counsel,” he said, “with me.”
We all watched as the three of them left through the side door.
The moment they were out of sight, the room broke into loud conversations.
“What’s going on?” Dylan asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But I have a feeling we should sign.”
Dylan nodded.
I signed the papers quickly before I had time to second-guess anything.
Time slowed. Minutes passed. Or hours. It was hard to tell. It all felt surreal.
We spoke with our new lawyers quietly for a while.
Asked questions, hoping for something to hold on to.
All they told us was that Robert Goldberg would explain everything soon.
They were now Lacey’s new counsel. Things would be made right.
And Goldberg was well-connected in the highest places.
Places that could make or break judges and AGs.
Then the door opened again. Everyone stood as the officer said, “All rise.”
Laughter came first. That was unexpected. The judge and Goldberg stepped back into the courtroom together, still laughing. Behind them, Kara Belmont followed. She looked pale.
The judge didn’t sit right away. One hand rested on his bench as he looked down at Robert Goldberg.
“You may be seated,” he said to the room in a conversational tone.
Everyone present followed his order. Belmont sat too, looking like a pouting child.
“I still can’t believe he hit that hole from that far,” Judge McKenna said.
“Well,” Goldberg answered easily, “it was the only one he hit all day. A squirrel bit him in the leg two holes later, and he had to get a rabies shot at the hospital.”
The judge laughed again, shaking his head.
Only then did he lower himself into his chair.
Goldberg’s smile faded quickly.
“Anyway,” Goldberg said. “I’ll put together a full list of the new evidence when I get back to my office.
Most of it is already sitting in police files that were never properly examined.
Like the video footage of John Myers covered in blood at the gas station.
That will have to be entered again. The testimony of the gas station owner too.
Mrs. Dustin’s statement will be taken formally.
” A pause. “We’ll move immediately on DNA.
John Myers’ blood was recovered at the Kolter crime scene.
We’ll compare it to Zach Nabb’s case.” He shook his head.
“The evidence is damning. The same man shown on the gas station video covered in blood tried to murder the victim’s mother when she began asking the questions law enforcement should have been asking all along. ”
Judge McKenna nodded brusquely. “I’ll ensure the court-ordered psychological evaluation is completed this week. There will be no further delays.”
Goldberg gave a single nod and sat next to Lacey.
Judge McKenna waited until he was seated, then straightened in his chair and addressed the courtroom.
“For purposes of today’s hearing, this court is required to consider two things: new evidence and flight risk.
” He shook his head. “A mute, terminally ill defendant who can barely walk or speak doesn’t present a flight risk. ”
“Your Honor.” Belmont rose quickly. “Your Honor, may I?”
“No,” he said. “You may not.”
She stood there, dying a thousand quiet deaths.
“Given the newly presented evidence identifying an alternative suspect,” Judge McKenna continued, “and given the defendant’s medical and psychological condition, bail is granted and set at a hundred thousand dollars.”
The gavel came down loud and clear.
And the courtroom exploded.
Voices rose. People surged to their feet. Somewhere near the front, Goldberg was moving toward the bench while Kara Belmont launched her plea with the judge.
My eyes went to the guards. Both of them were watching me now, as if unsure what to do.
One of the slick lawyers from Goldberg’s team came up to me. He was young and polished with perfectly combed dark hair.
“Let me translate that for you,” he said. “Your daughter goes home with you today. Right now, actually. You can hug her if you want.”
Dylan and I were on our feet at the same time. He helped me limp around the bench, through the noise and the stares, and we wrapped ourselves around Lacey.
The cries that came out of me barely sounded human. Dylan was crying too. His whole body was shaking.
Hugging Lacey felt like hugging branches, and her skin was cold. She also smelled horrible. But it didn’t matter. I loved her more than ever.
“We’ll get you the best treatment,” I sobbed into her shoulder, falling apart. “We’ll take care of you. I promise.”
But her body stayed rigid, her eyes empty.
“Honey,” I said, pulling back just enough to see her face. “Can you hear me? You’re free.”
Nothing.
“Mom,” Dylan said. “You’re free.”
Still nothing.
We held her anyway.