Words are just words. In the end, a US court is a place of evidence, not a stage for a performance.
"Members of the jury."
After a series of procedural maneuvers, Laun rose from his seat, straightened his tie, and walked toward the twelve jurors with a practiced, confident smile. "You have heard much over these past few days of testimony. I will not bore you by repeating every detail."
The twelve jurors nodded subtly. They had indeed heard a lot. It had taken a significant amount of time to untangle the web of confusion from day one to the clarity of today.
"My client, Mr. Locke Broughton, is a sixteen-year-old student."
"A student with outstanding grades, who is scheduled to represent Midtown High in the annual Chemistry Competition next month."
"But..."
"My client was first arrested by these individuals claiming to be from the FBI."
"He was taken directly from his school dance."
"Furthermore, after being taken away, my client was subjected to inhumane and tragic abuse. We have the testimony of New Amsterdam Hospital and the doctors who took the stand to prove this. You heard them yourselves."
"My client went with them in the spirit of cooperating with law enforcement."
"And what was the result?"
"They weren't even FBI."
"Worse, to evade this lawsuit, they claimed to be CIA agents. To cover up this scandal, they even brought in a DOJ 'temporary worker' to impersonate a high-ranking official and invoke national security to pressure Judge Knott into dismissing this case."
Yes. A temporary worker.
The poor Ms. Wright—once one of D.C.'s top lobbyists—had been officially characterized by the Department of Justice as a "temp." While she was technically on the payroll, the DOJ had completely disavowed her claim of being an Assistant to the Attorney General.
"But what is the truth?"
"They are from a division under the Department of Homeland Security."
"A division that, as it turns out, possesses zero legal law enforcement authority on US soil."
"God."
"They claim they did not torture my client, yet the doctors at New Amsterdam provided proof. Several of his classmates also testified that before he was taken from the school that night, he bore no injuries whatsoever."
"It is unbelievable!"
"If such evil cannot be judged here today, then the very freedom and democracy our US stands for will cease to exist!"
"I rest my case."
In his closing statement, Laun once again used the simplest language to outline the case for the twelve diverse jurors.
Across the room, the high-priced defense lawyer hired by the DHS swallowed hard. The arrogance he had displayed on the first day had vanished entirely.
Even in his own closing, he could only cling to the phrase "National Security." He peppered his speech with hints that some threats are like serial killers or terrorists—undetectable until it's too late. He argued that if law enforcement waited for "perfect evidence" before acting, the country would be lost.
But they weren't even in the same league.
...
Outside the courtroom. In the hallway.
Gwen, acting as the student representative for Midtown High to support Locke, saw him walk out of the courtroom. Her eyes lit up as she hurried toward him and Lawyer Laun. "Mr. Laun, when will the verdict be out?"
Laun smiled. "Not that quickly. The jury just went in to deliberate."
Locke hugged his classmates who had come along—Kahn and the basketball captain, Flash. Hearing Gwen's question, he said, "The jury is deliberating, and the case is basically settled. Why don't you guys head back first?"
Gwen looked at him. "Don't you want me to stay with you?"
Locke hesitated. Beside him, Laun gave a subtle, almost invisible shake of his head.
'This is a trick question, kid. Don't mess this up.'
"How could that be?" Locke laughed, pointing at Kahn and Flash. "I can afford to miss school, but if these two don't get back, I'm afraid they won't have enough credits to graduate."
Gwen gave him a tender smile.
Kahn and Flash looked at each other, then glared at Locke with mock annoyance.
"Hey!"
'Watch it. We came here to back you up. We know your grades are good, but we aren't exactly failing either.'
Locke laughed heartily, accepting their playful nudges. He was in a great mood.
However, further down the hallway, the mood of Nick Fury and his team was anything but pleasant. The reason was simple.
Agent 83's body had been found.
Even the body of the "defector," Agent 1—Victoria Knowles—had been located.
The two bodies were found together yesterday in a public cemetery in New York.
But there was a strange detail. According to Fury's deduction, Agent 83 should have been killed on the night she vanished. Yet, the autopsy report stated the time of death was within the last twelve hours.
It was incomprehensible. If the person who killed Agent 83 that night wasn't the Peerless Assassin, then who was in the Star Tower?
Most frustratingly, Fury wanted to see the bodies. But he was in custody. He could see the writing on the wall: he was about to lose a fortune in civil damages and face a fresh set of criminal charges from the NY DA.
And it was all because of...
Fury couldn't help but stare with his lone eye at Locke, who was laughing with his friends. Locke, sensing the gaze, turned to look back.
Three eyes met.
Locke wore a dazzlingly bright smile, while Fury's face was as dark as a moonless night.
It was a blatant provocation. By dumping the bodies yesterday, Locke was sending a message: 'See? I killed your people, and while you are completely powerless to stop me, you're going to prison because of me.'
Damn it. Fury clenched his fists. For the first time in his life, he felt a primal urge to just rush forward and swing.
Locke's gaze flickered down to Fury's white-knuckled fists. His lips curled up slightly as he raised an eyebrow and silently mouthed a sentence.
Fury's expression shifted instantly.
'Do you like my gift? There's more. This isn't the end!'
Fury's face turned red with visible rage. But Locke had already turned away, ignoring him.
The game in the light was over. He had won. The game in the shadows was about to begin, and there was no doubt who would emerge victorious there as well.
More importantly... the jury was back.
That fast?
Locke raised an eyebrow. He hadn't spent much time in court, but he knew juries usually took hours or days. A unanimous decision so quickly was rare.
...
Back inside the courtroom.
Gwen, Kahn, and Flash sat behind Locke. Gwen patted his shoulder. "Good luck!"
Locke nodded. A moment later, the twelve jurors filed out of their room and returned to their seats, their faces incredibly solemn.
Judge Knott struck his gavel and looked at the foreperson. "Has the jury reached a verdict?"
The foreperson stood up, holding a slip of paper. "Yes, Your Honor. We have."
Locke and Laun stood up from the plaintiff's table. Fury and his team did the same. Behind them, Gwen and the others rose as well.
"You may read your findings," Judge Knott said.
The foreperson opened the paper, her voice stern.
"We, the jury, find the defendants Nick Fury, Phil Coulson, and Melinda May... guilty!"
The corners of Locke's mouth twitched upward.
"We, the jury, find the defendant, the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division... liable!"
"For emotional distress, dangerous law enforcement practices, and excessive use of force, we award the plaintiff, Mr. Locke Broughton, the sum of five million dollars."
"Additionally, for the cumulative damages from the Department of Homeland Security... we award the plaintiff a total of thirteen million dollars."
I...
'Damn, you really can make a killing with lawsuits.' Locke thought to himself, his smile widening.
Beside him, Laun was equally pleased. A "guilty" verdict was the best outcome. Not only would they make a fortune, but the sustained media coverage had just made TNT&G the most famous law firm in the US.
'An agency that beat the DHS—what are you waiting for? Whether it's arson or murder, choose us; we turn first-degree murder into an accident. No problem.'
While the plaintiff's side and the gallery were jubilant, the trio at the defense table looked as if they were attending their own funerals.
*Bang! Bang! Bang!*
"Order!"
Judge Knott struck the gavel and looked at the bailiffs. "Bailiffs, return the three defendants to Rikers Island to await further proceedings!"
Yes. Now that liability and guilt were established, the District Attorney would take over. With this verdict as a precedent, the next criminal trial would be a slam dunk for the DA. The only question was how many years they'd get for official misconduct and abuse of power.
If they were standard law enforcement, every criminal they had ever put away would be laughing. When an officer is convicted of misconduct, every case they ever touched has to be reopened and reviewed.
But S.H.I.E.L.D.'s prisoners probably had no way to call a lawyer from their secret cells.
And besides... Locke had no intention of letting them make it back to prison in peace.
Hugging a beaming Gwen, Locke watched the orange-clad back of Nick Fury being led away by the bailiffs. His smile turned sharp and predatory.
'You've been found guilty.'
'And now... the Sin Hunter is coming for you.'
'Are you ready, Nick Fury?'
...
***
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