For 20 years, I was the quiet neighbor who mowed lawns and never raised his voice.
Mark looked up, arrogant but confused.
“Do you recognize me, son?” Halloway asked.
“You’re the judge,” Mark said.
“I am,” Halloway said. “But do you know where I spend my Sunday afternoons?”
Mark shook his head.
“For the last ten years,” Halloway said, his voice rising slightly, “I have spent my Sundays playing chess on a porch at 42 Maple Street. I drink iced tea. I talk about the war.”
Mark’s face went white.
“I was there when Lily graduated high school,” Halloway continued. “I was there when John taught her to ride a bike. I am her godfather.”
Sterling, the lawyer, turned pale. “Your Honor, this is a conflict of interest! You must recuse yourself!”
“Oh, I will,” Halloway said, his eyes burning with a cold fire. “But not before I enter a few things into the record.”
He held up a piece of paper.
“This is a sworn affidavit from the responding officer. He noted that Mr. Mark Sterling smelled of alcohol and admitted to ‘teaching his wife a lesson’ before he realized the officer’s body camera was recording.”
The courtroom gasped.
“And this,” Halloway held up another paper, “Is a motion from the District Attorney. Based on the injuries sustained by Lily—injuries consistent with torture—they are filing charges of Attempted Murder against you, Mr. Sterling.”
Mark started to hyperventilate. “No! That’s a lie! He beat me!”
“You threw the first punch, Mark,” I spoke up for the first time. “I just finished the fight.”
Halloway banged his gavel. “I am dismissing all charges against the defendant, John Vance, on the grounds of justifiable defense of a third party and self-defense. I am also issuing an immediate bench warrant for the arrest of Mark Sterling.”
