Each time Her Honor started to rise from her bench, ADA Pond was off and running on the next case. As fast as he could, he announced the Johnny Martino once again, in hopes Pond would break the judge, wear her down, and subject her to the water treatment until she could take no more. Her Honor would hear the state of North Carolina versus Johnny Martino so Hammer and West could return to life’s highways, and the hospital. ADA Pond prayed Hammer would think kindly of him when he ran for DA in three years.
“Johnny Martino,” ADA Pond said as fast as he could, again, moments later.
“I’m not ready to hear that case yet.” The judge could barely talk.
“Alex Brown,” the ADA blurted out.
“Yeah.” Mr. Brown stood, as did his counsel.
“How do you plead to malicious wounding?”
“He started it,” Mr. Brown stated for the record.
“What I’m supposed to do, huh? In Church’s getting a quart of chicken livers and he decides he wants the same thing, only he’s going to get mine and not pay.”
Hammer had tuned back in long enough to make an assessment of her surroundings and those in it. This was much more disheartening than she had imagined. No wonder her beat officers and investigators got so discouraged, so jaded and cynical. There had been a time when she’d had no sympathy or use for people like this. They were lazy, no-account, self-destructive, self-absorbed wastrels who added nothing to society and took from everyone around them. She thought of Seth, of his money, privilege, and opportunity. She thought of the love she and others had given him. Chief Hammer thought of many people she knew who were no better than anybody in this courtroom, really.
West wanted to kill Judge Bovine. It was outrageous making a chief and deputy chief sit through all this. West’s attention wandered back to Brazil about every other minute. She wondered if he had returned to the newspaper, and her ominous foreshadowing got denser and more chilling. If she didn’t get out of this court room soon, she might cause a scene. Her boss, oddly, had returned to the present and seemed fascinated by everything around her, as if Hammer could sit here all day and think those private thoughts that had made her who and what she was.
“Johnny Martino,” ADA Pond struck again.
“I’m not going to hear that case now,” the judge snapped as she carefully got to her feet.
That would be the end of it for at least half an hour, West thought with fury. So she and Hammer would get to sit in the hallway and wait.
Oh great. This would have been exactly right had Johnny Martino’s mother permitted it. Like West, Mrs. Martino had been pushed too far.
Mrs. Martino knew exactly what was going on. She knew that those two ladies in front were Batman and Robin, and that the judge had to pee.
Mrs. Martino rose before the judge could climb down from her throne.
“Now hold on one minute,” Mrs. Martino loudly said as she made her way over people and up to the bench, in her nice dress and loafers.
“I
been sitting here this whole time seeing exactly what’s going on. ”
“Ma’am… I’ Her Honor protested, by now standing and in crisis, as a reporter for New Country WTDR radio slipped into the back of the courtroom.
“Don’t you ma’am me!” Mrs. Martino wagged her finger.
“The boy who robbed all those innocent folks is my son. So I got a right to say whatever the hell I want. And I also know who these women are.” She gave them a deep nod.
“Risking themselves to help all those poor folk when that rotten-ass boy of mine climbed on that bus with the gun he got from some drug dealer out there. Well, I tell you what.”
West, Hammer, ADA Pond, and the courtroom, listened to Mrs. Martino with keen interest. The judge deemed it best to reseat herself and hold tight. Mrs. Martino had been waiting all her life for her day in court, and she began to pace like an experienced trial lawyer. Radio reporter Tim Nicks was writing down everything, his blood singing and playing drums in his ears. This was too good to be true.