Of course, the judge acknowledges her. Everyone in the room does, staring at her with their eyes wide, mouths dropped. Even the AC shuts up to let her speak.
“I’d like for you to consider how my client, Miss Rivera, has been forced to accept this trial as guilty. Under section 7 of the Charter of Rights and Freedom, her right to security has been breached.”
The judge quirks a brow, “Do you have proof of this?”
“I do,” Nadine hands over a USB to one of the transcript people—never truly knowing what they do—and they plug it in, click a couple of times, and a video pops up.
It’s a video of Mrs. Cartwright banging on my door for the past week, getting all up in my face, and one of her camping outside the whole night.
The old woman is scary, but I get it.
Her livelihood depended on that library, and I took bits of it throughout the years.
“Mrs. Cartwright repeatedly barged into my client’s home without her consent, followed her around the city, camped outside of her building, and publicly harassed her verbally.”
My cheeks burn. There’s a reason why I hired Sunny to defend me and all of it has to do with my oldest sister saving me once again.
“There is no proof that my client allegedly stole books from Cornwall public library. In fact, as a resident of the city myself, there were often exhibitions throughout the year that would allow citizens to take home books from the library without signing them out.”
Nadine hands over a file, which the judge looks through—quietly nodding as if she understands the truth that isn’t the truth.
The bald man stands. “Your honour—” When the judge raises her hand to finish reading, he places down a new piece of evidence in front of her. Not sure if that’s allowed but I’m learning a lot today.
Starting with my sister and how she somehow knows everything.
“There is proof of your client never returning overdue books, Mrs. Rivera.”
Nadine turns to look at me for the first time since she entered, and I see it. The look. The same one she gave me when I came back home from school and ate a Hershey’s chocolate kiss instead of a banana. A look that holds a whole lot oftsks.
I can see her brain turning while she figures out the best route to take. “Overdue books do not qualify as stolen books, your honour.”
“Correct,” she takes her glasses off and sighs. “But there are twelve years of overdue books. Twelve years of lost public property which was in the possession of Nova Rivera.”
“Who was a minor.”
“Exactly. Whowasa minor, Mrs. Rivera.”
I swallow hard. I know where this is going and I’m mentally calculating the number of zeroes I have in my back account, coming to a solid two. Maybe one, actually.
“I’ll take into account how her rights have been breached, but the fact remains that she has never returned an approximate of 2,000overdue books. That’s about $48,000 give or take. Accounting for wholesale prices, that’s around $20,000. Knowing that Ms. Cartwright harasses her, the most I can offer to Miss Rivera is that she either return all those books or pay a fine of $15,000.”
“Your honour, that’s unfair considering the loss my client has been through.”
The judge doesn’t pay the bald man any mind.
She stares at me, at my sister, and I can feel Ms. Cartwright’s gaze digging into me.
Amazing.
That’s three zeroes.
I don’t have two and they want me to pay three.
Justgreat.
“Thank you, your honour.” Nadine curtly nods.
“If she doesn’t pay within six months, Miss Rivera will serve one year in prison with six months of community service upon release.” The judge hits the gavel on the sound block and dismisses the court by calling upon the next case which happens to be for a parking ticket.
