Read Online Directed Verdict (Failed Justice Book 1) by Rick Santini - Free Book Online
Authors: Rick Santini
Saltmeyer knew if he had so easily picked it up, any court reporter with half a brain would find it out. It was only a matter of time.
***
Where do I go? What do I do?
Judge K was now back home, such as it was.
After the divorce he saw no need for a large house, not that it ever felt like a home. It was a place for him to have breakfast, dinner, and sleep. He kept his clothes there on weekends and locked himself in his basement chambers. At least there he felt safe and his wife knew better than to bother him.
The house was sold and the profits split equally. Eighty-three thousand, four hundred and twelve dollars each. He would never forget that figure. All those years of licking bootstraps, being the good little soldier, doing the dirty jobs no one else had the stomach for, and after all was said and done, he was now divorced, his son hardly spoke to him, and all he was left with was a lousy eighty-three thousand dollars.
Home was now a two bedroom apartment within walking distance of the courthouse. Why, on good days he didn’t even need a car. An apartment. He didn’t even own the damn place. He paid rent every month and knew the rent would go up a good ten to fifteen percent every three years. Inflation, he was told.
Bullshit. It was greed, pure and simple.
Now he had five days before he could report back to work.
What the hell am I going to do? Where do I go?
Wally was afraid to use his laptop. If they, whoever they were, could break into one computer, they sure as hell could break into a new one.
Maybe I’ll go down to Best Buy and see if they can sell me a secure laptop that has firewalls or whatever they use to prevent hackers from breaking in. What else can I do?
Had Judge K known the truth, he would have rested much easier.
A simple phone call to his chambers asking the judge to sign an emergency restraining order on a case he had on his docket, brought a response from the haggard clerk stating the judge was not available. After being pushed, the clerk revealed the judge was on vacation in Miami. The lawyer insisted only Judge Kolkolski was familiar with the facts and circumstances and the lawyer, or so the voice claimed to be, was sure if he sent the proposed order FedEx, the judge would sign it and send it back the next day.
So much for confidentiality. Everyone has access to all cases assigned to a particular judge. Ten minutes in the Clerk’s Office and five questions on a throw away cell phone was all it took to locate the good judge.
The only problem with Judge K’s laptop was it was old. Just like him.
CHAPTER 11
“What’s wrong, Anthony? You seem so jumpy.”
“What’s wrong? Ma, they want to kill me. I’m sure of it. The girl’s father is Mafia. Not bad enough, the God damn Russian mafia. I’m a dead man walking.”
“Don’t you use that language in this house. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Ma.”
Anthony had lost more than ten pounds since the trial. He had dropped out of school and spent most of his time at home. In his room. In bed. He only went out at night, when it was dark.
“You heard the judge. He didn’t believe for one minute that girl was telling the truth. She was scared and claimed it was rape afterwards. Now do you really think her father is going to believe the judge or his own daughter? He’s going to kill me. Did you see those big goons sitting in the back of the courtroom every day? Just staring. Staring at me.”
Anthony didn’t believe one word he had just told his mother. Oh, he damn sure believed his life was over. He knew he could never walk the streets of New Jersey again without looking over both shoulders and at every car coming at him. What he didn’t understand was why the judge didn’t believe Victoria. She was telling the truth and everyone in the courtroom knew it. The jury knew it, his own attorney knew it, and he damn sure knew it. So why? Why was he still a free man?
What was the
***
Where do I go? What do I do?
Judge K was now back home, such as it was.
After the divorce he saw no need for a large house, not that it ever felt like a home. It was a place for him to have breakfast, dinner, and sleep. He kept his clothes there on weekends and locked himself in his basement chambers. At least there he felt safe and his wife knew better than to bother him.
The house was sold and the profits split equally. Eighty-three thousand, four hundred and twelve dollars each. He would never forget that figure. All those years of licking bootstraps, being the good little soldier, doing the dirty jobs no one else had the stomach for, and after all was said and done, he was now divorced, his son hardly spoke to him, and all he was left with was a lousy eighty-three thousand dollars.
Home was now a two bedroom apartment within walking distance of the courthouse. Why, on good days he didn’t even need a car. An apartment. He didn’t even own the damn place. He paid rent every month and knew the rent would go up a good ten to fifteen percent every three years. Inflation, he was told.
Bullshit. It was greed, pure and simple.
Now he had five days before he could report back to work.
What the hell am I going to do? Where do I go?
Wally was afraid to use his laptop. If they, whoever they were, could break into one computer, they sure as hell could break into a new one.
Maybe I’ll go down to Best Buy and see if they can sell me a secure laptop that has firewalls or whatever they use to prevent hackers from breaking in. What else can I do?
Had Judge K known the truth, he would have rested much easier.
A simple phone call to his chambers asking the judge to sign an emergency restraining order on a case he had on his docket, brought a response from the haggard clerk stating the judge was not available. After being pushed, the clerk revealed the judge was on vacation in Miami. The lawyer insisted only Judge Kolkolski was familiar with the facts and circumstances and the lawyer, or so the voice claimed to be, was sure if he sent the proposed order FedEx, the judge would sign it and send it back the next day.
So much for confidentiality. Everyone has access to all cases assigned to a particular judge. Ten minutes in the Clerk’s Office and five questions on a throw away cell phone was all it took to locate the good judge.
The only problem with Judge K’s laptop was it was old. Just like him.
CHAPTER 11
“What’s wrong, Anthony? You seem so jumpy.”
“What’s wrong? Ma, they want to kill me. I’m sure of it. The girl’s father is Mafia. Not bad enough, the God damn Russian mafia. I’m a dead man walking.”
“Don’t you use that language in this house. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Ma.”
Anthony had lost more than ten pounds since the trial. He had dropped out of school and spent most of his time at home. In his room. In bed. He only went out at night, when it was dark.
“You heard the judge. He didn’t believe for one minute that girl was telling the truth. She was scared and claimed it was rape afterwards. Now do you really think her father is going to believe the judge or his own daughter? He’s going to kill me. Did you see those big goons sitting in the back of the courtroom every day? Just staring. Staring at me.”
Anthony didn’t believe one word he had just told his mother. Oh, he damn sure believed his life was over. He knew he could never walk the streets of New Jersey again without looking over both shoulders and at every car coming at him. What he didn’t understand was why the judge didn’t believe Victoria. She was telling the truth and everyone in the courtroom knew it. The jury knew it, his own attorney knew it, and he damn sure knew it. So why? Why was he still a free man?
What was the
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