VEE. The presentation of the prosecution’s case was simple, and uncovered no surprises or hidden jewels. In their expressed opinion, Michael went to the home of the deceased, the deceased acted in a manner that would support defending his home, and Michael overreacted - choking him to death.

One thing, in my professional opinion, that we had in our favor was the fact that there are no living witnesses with the exception of Michael.

The opera isn’t over until the fat lady sings, I’ve always said. And this was far from over. Prosecution had completed questioning the detectives, the medical examiner, and had finished direct examination of Michael. Michael, still seated in the witness stand, appeared nervous, but no more than previous clients I had defended. His testimony had been clear, concise, and without emotion. I stood as his attorney, and as his girlfriend, but I stood proud of him.

Very proud.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll break for lunch. One hour,” the judge said as he looked at his watch.

“Be back in this courtroom no later than twelve fifty. Jurors, the deputy will direct you to your lunchroom. I ask that you not leave the courthouse,” he stated.

He turned and spoke to Michael, who immediately rose from his seat and walked to where I was seated. Seeing him in a suit, a tie, and wearing the Rayban glasses was quite a sight. He looked like a bald headed GQ model. As Michael reached his seat, he quietly sat down.

“You’re adjourned,” the judge said to the jurors.

After the jurors cleared the courtroom, the bailiff barked.

“All rise,” he stated.

As we stood, the judge rose and exited into his chambers.

“There’s a café downstairs. We’ll go down there and eat. I hate to say this, but we’ll need to eat alone. I’ll need your attention for the entire time, and not have you focused on your friends and family,” I stated as I slid my files to the edge of the table.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded.

“In case I forget, when we’re there, you’re going to get hot peppers on your sandwich. Don’t forget. No matter what, okay?”

“Hot peppers? Why?” he asked.

“Because I said so. And we need them,” I responded.

With a confused look, he nodded his head.

After the courtroom was clear of Michael’s friends and family, prosecution exited the courtroom, followed by the detectives. I lifted the files from the desk and nodded at Michael.

“We’ll stop at the bathroom on the way down the hall. Now, follow me, don’t talk to anyone, and if you see a juror, stay clear and do not speak. Understand?” I asked.

“Yes ma’am,” he responded as he tapped the temple of his glasses lightly.

After exiting the courtroom, we quietly walked down the corridor to the bathroom. As I stood in the hallway and began to speak to Michael, a detective from the trial exited the bathroom. As he walked past where we stood, he turned and looked at us over his shoulder.

“You always defend the men you’re fucking, counsel?” the detective said under his breath as he walked away.

“What’d you say motherfucker?” Michael turned to face the detective and removed his glasses.

“Stand down, Michael. Not a word,” I said sternly as I held my files at arm’s length.

“Take these,” I demanded.

“Yes ma’am,” he grunted as he accepted the files.

“You listen to me you simple minded prick. What I do on my time is my business, and not one fucking bit of it involves, should concern, or has a god damned thing to do with you,” I walked toward the detective, paused, and took a breath.

As I paused, he scoffed and turned to walk away.

“Stop asshole, I’m not done with you,” I stated.

He continued to walk toward the elevator.

“Texas penal code thirty-six dot zero five, witness tampering, motherfucker. A person commits an offense if, with intent to influence a witness, he offers, confers, or agrees to confer,” I half screamed down the hallway.

He immediately stopped walking, and turned to face me before I finished citing the law.

“That is state law. Federally, which is my forte, it will get you prison time, not jail time. Eighteen USC fifteen twelve, more specifically, section “Two”, subsection “A”, I believe; whoever attempts to influence, delay or prevent the testimony in any official proceeding…” I paused as he began to slowly walk towards where we stood.

“What do you want counsel?” the detective asked as he stopped about ten feel from us.

“Want? Want? What do I want? I want world peace, a dozen roses, gasoline below two dollars a gallon, and to live in the perfect weather in sunny San Diego, but you can’t solve those problems. You see, you’re a lowly detective third class in Austin, Texas, and you can’t grant wishes. So, I want respect from you and every other cock sucker in this courtroom. I don’t want it because I’m an attorney, a woman, or because I have some self-esteem issues that require praise. I want it because I have earned it, and I am continuing to earn it. I’m kicking the prosecution’s ass, and we both know it. It’s why you talked shit when you came out of the bathroom,” I paused and shook my head at his ridiculous childlike behavior.

He turned toward the elevator and took one step.

“I’m.”

“Not.”

“Done,” I growled.

He hesitated, and turned to face me.

“Listen detective. In this courtroom, stay clear of us. Your intimidation tactics aren’t going to work. On the street, you want to walk up and talk shit, fine. But just remember, that big motherfucker behind me,” without turning around, I pointed over my shoulder at Michael.

“He’ll be with me. And one thing he hates more than people that disrespect women is fucking cops. Have a nice day detective,” I nodded, pressed my hands against my pencil shirt, and pursed my lips.

“Holy shit,” Michael breathed.

“Shut it, Michael,” I said as I turned around.

“I explained this once. The courtroom is my playground. In the bedroom, I’ll cower at your feet and be your submissive little girl - but in here? Everyone’s my bitch. And, just in case you’re wondering, that includes you. Now hand me my motherfucking files,” I demanded as I held my hand out.

“Yes ma’am,” he said as he handed me the files.

“Now, go piss and let’s go get you fed. You have an afternoon of testimony at the hands of a savage,” I said as I tucked the files under my arm.

“Who? Prosecution again?” he asked.

“No, me,” I responded.

“Now go piss,” I pointed to the bathroom door.

“Yes ma’am,” he said wide eyed over the top of his glasses.

Yes ma’am. I like the sound of that.

Until tonight.