The judge stared at us as if we were insane, and for a brief moment, I didn’t blame him.

“I want to make sure I’m not going hard of hearing,” he said, leaning forward on his desk as the two of us stood in front of it, looking determined. “Run this by me one more time.”

Hud and I exchanged looks, and he nodded to me to take the lead.

“We have reason to believe this entire trial is a farce, Your Honor,” I said. “The interests of the plaintiff and the defendant are one in the same, and they’re using your courtroom as a means of evading justice for another offense that hasn’t yet come to light.”

“That’s what I thought you said,” the judge sighed. “I don’t have to tell you how...outlandish this kind of an accusation is, and if the two of you weren’t as reputable as I know you to be--bringing this to me together, no less--I would have you both recuse yourselves immediately. What evidence do you have?”

“I have photographic evidence that the two parties have been in contact by text,” I said, taking out my phone and sliding it across the table to the judge. “Were you to issue a search warrant, I believe you will find a burner phone with that number in one of the plaintiffs’ homes or offices, but the messages themselves heavily implicate them.”

“I can corroborate Mr. Barrington’s statement,” Hud said. “I overheard Mr. Delaney stating as much while he was at a bar I happened to be at.”

“We were at the bar to discuss our differences, as you ordered, Your Honor,” I added quickly with a winning smile.

“That was why we had Mr. Sellers up on stand today,” Hud said, and the judge, who had been looking through the photos with widening eyes looked up at us with a furrowed brow.

“Yes, please elaborate,” he said.

“Mr. Sellers witnessed a... physical disagreement the two of us had at a convention earlier this month,” I explained. “I believe that was the starting point of their plans. Over the next twenty-four hours, the plaintiffs and defendant contacted both of us specifically to represent them, having been aware of our outstanding disagreement, for lack of a better term.”

“To what end?” the judge asked.

“Hoping for the case to go to mistrial thanks to our antics,” Hud said triumphantly, “as almost happened before we buried the hatchet.”

“We believe they meant to drive the trial into the ground to avoid reaching a verdict at all,” I went on.

“But why would they do that?” the judge pressed.

“Because Mr. Delaney did falsify his loan application,” Hud said, trailing off, and I continued.

“But Southwestern First helped him do it. With knowledge of the Delaney family history with the bank, they wouldn’t have legitimately entertained a loan application, but they could if they could fund the operation and share the profits from the condos afterward.”

“Delaney doesn’t have any money of his own to speak of,” Hud said. “Besides a few offshore accounts to ensure he doesn’t have to work, he’s broke, by developer standards.”

“But with the bank’s help, they can create a straw buyer,” I said, grinning.

“Making money out of nothing,” the judge said, chuckling and shaking his head. He rubbed his face and sat back, sighing. “This is an enormous accusation the two of you have made, but I can’t fault you for your boldness. If this is true, you’re right, we would need to drop the trial and have them all arrested for fraud, then prepare to handle the new charges. But if you’re wrong…”

“We would stake our careers on this, Your Honor,” I said firmly.

“You are staking your careers on it,” the judge chuckled. “But I’d also be staking mine.”

“Arrest the plaintiffs now,” Hud said, “and you’ll find the evidence you need to bring these men to justice for making fools of us all. Three weeks ago, I punched this man in the jaw, Your Honor. I wouldn’t make this accusation lightly.”

The judge glared at both of us long and hard, his jaw set, and Hudson and I stared right back, waiting with baited breath.