"Mr. Broughton!"
"Mr. Laun."
At the entrance of the Star Tower, Locke stood wearing a sharp suit and tie, accessorized with a pair of non-prescription gold-rimmed glasses. He shook hands with Buson Laun, who had been waiting for quite some time with a legal team consisting of five prominent attorneys from the firm. "I appreciate you doing this."
Laun, also dressed in a professional suit, replied, "It's my job. You look absolutely perfect today, Mr. Broughton."
Locke smiled. "Thank you."
He had originally considered wearing his school uniform, as it might have garnered a certain level of sympathy from the judge. However, Judge Knott was an exception.
Just as the judge was a staunch supporter of government transparency, he also believed in the absolute equality of all persons. Once you entered his courtroom, everyone stood on the same starting line; no one was entitled to preferential treatment.
Following Laun's advice, Locke decided that appearing as a man—a serious, composed individual—was better than appearing as a student. And a suit, without a doubt, represented a man. A true man.
Soon, Locke entered the car, followed by Laun. The vehicles pulled away and headed toward the Federal Court in Manhattan.
Inside the car, Laun quickly briefed Locke on the events of the last two days. To put it simply, the Department of Justice (DOJ) had not stopped trying to get Judge Knott to dismiss the case.
Unfortunately for them, the judge's first impression of the Assistant Attorney General had been abysmal. After all, the moment they met, the Assistant had tried to dictate how the judge should do his job.
"The DOJ appealed to the Supreme Court—even tried to get the 'Group of Nine' involved—but they couldn't get Judge Knott to blink. Our odds are very high."
"It sounds like they've really rubbed him the wrong way."
"Exactly. Judge Knott is furious," Laun said. "Last night, he reached his breaking point. He stated flatly that if he doesn't hear a genuine national security reason today, he will open the trial to the public and won't give the DOJ any time to regroup."
The Supreme Court might sound untouchable, and in many ways, it was. However, due to the unique mechanisms of the US, while the Supreme Court has the power to rule federal or state laws unconstitutional, that usually happens after a verdict. This case was still in the procedural phase, and the blatant pressure had backfired spectacularly.
Furthermore, once the media learned this was a closed-door hearing, wild speculation began to fly. The most prominent theory—promoted across every major New York headline today—was that since the case involved the FBI, the court and the Bureau were conspiring behind closed doors. The public outcry for a transparent trial was deafening.
Under these circumstances, if Locke didn't know the inside story, even he might have suspected the judge had been bought off.
In reality, S.H.I.E.L.D. suspected the same thing.
"What's the status?"
In the S.H.I.E.L.D. Operations Center, Nick Fury—trapped in New York because of this mess—asked the agents tasked with digging up dirt on Judge Knott. "Did you find anything useful?"
They absolutely could not let this go to trial. S.H.I.E.L.D., like many other federal agencies, shared a common philosophy: if you can't solve the problem, solve the person who raised it. Problem gone. The problem was Judge Knott.
But several agents who had worked through the night shook their heads. "Apologies, Director. We found no vulnerabilities."
Judge Knott's record was impeccably clean. It wasn't an exaggeration to call him the Union's version of an incorruptible official. In his many years on the bench, while he frequently clashed with law enforcement, every suspect whose sentence he handed down accepted the judgment without question.
We're talking about hundreds of people. Making that many convicts feel the process was fair was nearly impossible, yet Knott had done it.
"Moreover," one agent added, "we contacted several former defendants. Even when we hinted we could pull strings to have their convictions overturned if they testified to judicial corruption, they refused."
Nick Fury: "..."
This was ridiculous. The government offered to falsify records and grant them freedom in exchange for a simple accusation, and they turned it down?
Just then, Phil Coulson walked over. "Director, the agents on Fifth Avenue report that the target has departed."
Fury's expression was grim, though it hadn't looked "good" for days. At this point, his bitter, hollow-faced look had become his default state.
After a long pause, Fury squeezed out a single word through gritted teeth: "Move."
The courthouse was unavoidable. Their only remaining strategy was to settle for the lesser of two evils: attend the hearing, but ensure the case remained sealed. S.H.I.E.L.D. could potentially survive exposure, but not in this manner.
The Council had already taken notice. Councilman Alexander Pierce had called him yesterday, demanding he handle this exposure crisis properly. But while D.C. could offer advice, having the White House intervene directly was unlikely.
Again: S.H.I.E.L.D. was technically legal under international treaties, but under the Union's domestic system, it was a gray area. It lacked a Congressional seal and Congressional funding. Was an agency without a public budget even a "legal" domestic enforcement body?
"Keep digging," Fury commanded as he led Coulson and Melinda May toward the exit. He turned back to Commander Victoria Hand. "I refuse to believe a sociopath managed to masquerade for sixteen years without leaving a single crack."
Victoria Hand nodded, watching Nick Fury and his two confidants leave. They looked less like they were heading to a hearing and more like they were marching onto a battlefield where the wind howled and the water ran cold.
(T/N:- On a side note, Fury isn't entirely wrong about mc being a sociopath, you guys don't know but I removed so much edgy and crazy inner thoughts of mc. One time he thinks he'll slaughter the entire planet if there's a mission and redeem a spaceship from system and go to Xandar to grind missions there. And so much more about him being a player and doesn't care about life etc.)
(I'd appreciate if my dear readers can comment how I'm doing the translation. Personally i kept few of those details otherwise mc won't have a personality if i removed every edgy thoughts.)
(If you read this far then I'm sure i did a good job, alright i yapped enough continue reading my lovely readers.)
...
Upper Manhattan Federal Court.
As dawn broke, media crews from New York and across the country began to congregate. Even though it was a closed-door hearing, the case had captured the world's attention. Besides, the plaintiff and defendant still had to enter through the front doors. Smart journalists always find a way to get the transcripts eventually.
The reporters stood at the courthouse steps like a flock of hungry crows.
Suddenly, two black Audi sedans came into view. The atmosphere erupted.
"They're here!"
"Wake up, get the camera ready!"
"Move it, move it!"
As Buson Laun and Locke stepped out of the lead car, photographers scrambled. Female reporters, whose high heels did nothing to hinder their speed and perhaps even increased their "attack speed," sprinted toward them like the wind.
"Mr. Laun! Mr. Laun!"
"Mr. Laun, can we have a word? What is your take on the court's decision for a closed-door hearing?"
"The FBI is moving for dismissal based on national security. Were you aware of this?"
Buson Laun paused. He looked toward a blonde reporter in the crowd—one who smelled of expensive perfume and seemed exceptionally well-informed—and then glanced at Locke.
Locke gave a subtle nod. Professional matters were for professionals; in a field that wasn't his own, Locke followed his lawyer's lead. He wasn't like those idiots who, after their lawyer worked tirelessly for a plea deal, would smirk or act out, causing the judge to revoke the agreement out of spite.
At the top of the courthouse steps, Buson Laun stood on the platform, looking down at the reporters thrusting microphones toward him. His expression was one of absolute gravity.
"National security?"
"You must be joking."
"What possible national security threat could my client pose?"
"This is a blatant, naked abuse of power."
"Please remember: my client was arrested without a shred of evidence and without any legal justification, based on fabricated charges. He was then subjected to barbaric torture."
"My client is innocent. Not just 'not guilty'—innocent. One hundred percent innocent!"
"The FBI's investigation is completely illegal and unconstitutional. If this case involves 'national security,' it is only because the FBI is hiding behind that term to mask their own crimes."
"Our request for today's hearing is simple!"
"Transparency!"
"Justice!"
"Fairness!"
"Remember, this Union is a society governed by the rule of law. No law enforcement agency stands above the citizen. I believe Judge Knott shares this conviction. Thank you."
Following his powerful and meticulously articulated speech, Laun prepared to lead his team inside. The reporters weren't about to let them go so easily, but at that moment, several black SUVs commonly used by federal agencies arrived.
The FBI Senior Supervisor, Nick Fury, Phil Coulson, Melinda May, and the Assistant Attorney General stepped out.
The moment Nick Fury exited the vehicle, even with only one eye, he looked like a predator closing in on its prey. His gaze immediately locked onto Locke, who was standing on the platform above.
Locke looked back at Fury. The corners of his mouth curled into a slight upward arc.
The prey had finally arrived.
'How many of my shots can you take, Director?' Locke wondered with keen curiosity.