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Chapter 14: The King's Trial
🕑 Added 2025-09-15 03:26:33 +0000 UTC"They're going to crucify her," a reporter whispered in the third row. "Davies looks like he hasn't slept in three days just preparing for this."
"And Sinclair? She looks like she's going to a picnic," his colleague replied, adjusting his camera's focus. "Either that, or she's the best actress I've ever seen."
Yuls Sinclair heard the fragments of conversation without reacting. She kept her eyes fixed on her notes, though she already knew them by heart. Beside her, Jack was reclined in his chair, completely serene.
"Nervous?" he asked in a low voice, not looking at her. His attention was on the prosecutor, Howard Davies, who kept arranging and rearranging a stack of papers.
"I'm about to ask the federal judicial system to admit that one of its secret agencies is operating without control and outside the law," Yuls replied, her voice barely a whisper. "Nervous is an understatement. I feel like I'm going to throw up on you."
"You won't," Jack said with absolute calm. "Remember what I told you. You aren't attacking the government. You're defending the rules. Judges love rules. They're the only thing separating them from anarchy."
"I hope you're right."
"I always am."
The bang of a door silenced the courtroom. Judge Marcus Thompson entered and took his seat, his face stern and impassive. His gaze went to the center of the room, to the seal of justice carved into the wood of the bench.
"This court is now in session," the judge announced, his voice echoing in the silent room. "In response to the defense's unprecedented motion to subpoena the lead investigating agent in a preliminary hearing, the court has deliberated."
Howard Davies straightened up slightly, a smug smile appearing on his face. He was sure the judge would crush this absurd tactic, a desperate rookie move.
"Although this court finds the defense's motion to be irregular and bordering on a breach of procedural decorum," Judge Thompson continued, and for the first time, his eyes landed directly on Yuls, "it also recognizes that allegations of government misconduct are of the utmost gravity. Questioning the integrity of the institutions that protect us is not something to be done lightly."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"Therefore, for the sole purpose of establishing a factual basis for the defense's motion to dismiss, this court will grant the subpoena."
A collective gasp went through the press gallery. Davies's jaw dropped and his smug smile vanished.
The judge raised a warning finger at Yuls. "With a warning, Ms. Sinclair: you are on dangerous ground. This is not a license for a fishing expedition. Get straight to the point or I will hold you in contempt so fast you won't know what hit you. I grant you a recess of ninety minutes for the government to produce its witness. Not a second more."
The slam of the gavel sealed the decision. Yuls felt a surge of adrenaline so potent it almost made her dizzy. The first play, the most improbable one, had been a success.
The recess was controlled chaos. As soon as they walked out the courtroom doors, a crowd of reporters surrounded them with their cameras, microphones, and shouted questions.
"Ms. Sinclair! What do you hope to achieve with this risky strategy?"
"Jack! Is this an admission that you can't win the case on the facts?"
"Are you accusing a federal agency of conspiracy?"
"Do you think Judge Thompson is losing control of his courtroom?"
Yuls, following Jack's precise instructions, didn't say a word. She kept her chin high and her eyes forward, pushing her way through the crowd. Jack followed closely, a calming presence at her back. Finally, they reached a private conference room they had reserved, and a bailiff closed the door behind them, cutting off the noise abruptly.
"You did wonderfully," Jack said as soon as they were alone. His smile was one of pure, genuine pride.
"Davies was sweating. His panic was obvious from a mile away, not even his expensive cologne could hide it."
"I almost fainted," Yuls admitted, dropping heavily into a leather chair. She ran a trembling hand through her hair. "Jack, this is insane. The judge is furious. He's given us an opportunity just to see if we make a fatal mistake. He made that very clear."
"Of course he's furious. We forced him to make a decision he didn't want to make," Jack replied, pouring himself a glass of water from a pitcher on the table. He offered one to Yuls. "Judge Thompson is old school. He believes in the rules, in procedure, above all else. We presented him with a dilemma: either ignore a serious accusation of abuse of power, looking like a government puppet, or allow our motion, looking like he's giving credit to a wild theory. He chose the lesser evil to protect the court's image."
"And what if he destroys me in the questioning now?" Yuls asked, accepting the water. "He gave me ninety minutes. What am I supposed to do in ninety minutes?"
"Eighty seven now," Jack corrected, looking at his watch. "And what you're going to do is simple. You aren't going to interrogate Thorne to get a confession. You're going to use your questions to expose everything he can't say. You don't need him to confess anything. You just need the judge to see that there are questions a United States government agent cannot or will not answer in open court. Ask yes or no questions. Force him to refuse. Every time he says 'I cannot answer that question,' it's a win."
Yuls nodded, her breathing starting to even out. "Yes or no questions. About oversight. About surveillance."
"Exactly. Don't ask him 'How did you surveil me?'. Ask him 'Did you surveil me?'. Don't ask him 'Who supervises you?'. Ask him 'Does Congress supervise you?'. You've won the first battle, Yuls. Now, get ready for the war."
Ninety minutes later, the courtroom was even more tense, if that was even possible. Not a single seat was empty. Agent Marcus Thorne entered through a side door, escorted by two federal marshals. He wasn't wearing the tactical gear of a field agent, but a simple dark gray suit that somehow made him look even more dangerous. He moved with a predatory calm, with a restraint that made his contempt for the rules of the place clear.
He sat in the witness stand, his posture erect and unyielding.
His eyes met Jack's for a fleeting instant.
"Ms. Sinclair, you may proceed," Judge Thompson said, his tone sharp.
Yuls stood and approached the stand. Her heart was pounding, but her voice, when she spoke, was calm and measured.
"Agent Thorne, thank you for joining us today. For the record, could you please tell us which federal government agency you work for?"
Davies was on his feet immediately. "Objection! The agent's affiliation is classified information on grounds of national security!"
"Sustained," the judge said instantly. "Ms. Sinclair, I already warned you to get to the point. This is not a discovery hearing."
"Of course, your honor. My apologies," Yuls replied without losing her composure. She turned to Thorne again. "Agent Thorne, is your agency, whatever it may be, subject to the oversight of the United States Congress?"
"Objection!" Davies shouted again, this time with a hint of desperation. "Relevance! The internal structure of security agencies has nothing to do with this case!"
"Oversight is directly relevant to an accusation of misconduct, your honor," Yuls argued, raising her voice slightly to be heard. "An agency that is not accountable to the elected representatives of the people is, by definition, an agency that can abuse its power without consequence. That is the core of our motion."
The judge frowned, clearly uncomfortable. He rubbed his temple. "I'll allow the question," he finally said, reluctantly. "But I will strictly limit this line of questioning, Ms. Sinclair. Answer the question, Agent."
Thorne fixed Yuls with an icy stare. "National security operations have their own internal and external oversight protocols, approved at the highest level."
"That wasn't my question, Agent," Yuls replied calmly. "I appreciate the clarification, but my question was very specific. I asked if Congress, the body elected to represent the citizens of this country, oversees your actions. It's a yes or no question."
Thorne was silent for a moment that stretched on. The entire room seemed to hold its breath. He looked at the prosecutor, then at the judge.
"I cannot answer that question in an open forum."
"Let the record show that the witness refuses to answer whether his agency is subject to Congressional oversight," Yuls said, turning briefly to the judge before returning her attention to Thorne. "Very well. Let's move on to something I hope is less... sensitive. On the night of the incident at the Vermonth mansion, my client, Mr. Jack, intervened in an active kidnapping. Is that correct?"
"Your client was present at the scene of the events, yes," Thorne answered, his voice a precise, emotionless murmur.
"And as a direct result of that intervention, Mr. Marcus Vermonth was rescued safely, and the criminal known as Fractal, along with his eight accomplices, were neutralized and delivered into the custody of the local police?" Yuls continued.
"Those are the basic facts of the incident, yes."
"Basic facts. I like that expression. Here is another basic fact for the court. In the days immediately following that event, Mr. Vermonth and the nine captured criminals died while under the protection or in the custody of the state. Is that also correct?"
"Official medical reports indicate that yes, they all passed away from various causes."
"Thank you, Agent. Now, during the investigation of these... unfortunate and convenient events, did your agency place my client under any kind of surveillance?"
Davies stood up once more, his face red. "Objection! Investigative methods are classified! The defense is attempting to compromise ongoing national security operations!"
"Your honor, this is the central point of our motion!" Yuls exclaimed, her voice rising for the first time, filled with controlled outrage. "If a citizen who cooperates with the law, who stops dangerous criminals, is placed under illegal surveillance without a warrant, without probable cause, simply because the state finds it convenient, that isn't national security, it's the epitome of government misconduct!"
The judge weighed it, his gaze shifting from Yuls to Thorne and back. He was clearly on ground he detested. "Agent, I am ordering you to answer the question. Was surveillance conducted on Ms. Sinclair's client?"
Thorne stared at Yuls.
"All surveillance conducted by my agency strictly adheres to established and authorized national security protocols."
"Again, Agent, that is not a yes or no answer," Yuls insisted, taking a step closer to the stand. "I'll ask another way to make it simpler. Was there a bug in my client's phone? A video camera in his hotel room? A drone following his movements when he went to buy coffee in the morning? Yes or no, Agent Thorne."
Thorne did not answer. His jaw tensed, but he remained in absolute silence. His silence was the most eloquent answer Yuls could have hoped for.
"I have no further questions at this time, your honor," Yuls said, and returned to her table, feeling the eyes of the entire room on her back. She knew she hadn't won the case, but she had opened a crack in the government's armor.
Prosecutor Davies, seeing his case crumbling on procedural grounds, saw a desperate opportunity to counterattack.
"Your honor, since the defense has opened the door regarding Agent Thorne's conduct and his alleged animosity toward the defendant, the prosecution requests permission to briefly cross examine the defendant himself on this point."
The judge, clearly fed up with the drama and wanting to end the day, nodded curtly. "You have five minutes, Mr. Davies. And let them be the last five minutes of theatrics for today."
Jack stood up. He moved with a calm and confidence that filled the room. He didn't look like a defendant approaching the stand. He sat, adjusted the microphone, and looked at the prosecutor with an expression of pleasant expectation.
"Mr. Jack," Davies began, his tone loaded with barely concealed sarcasm. "You accuse the government, through your attorney, of a 'malicious investigation.' Do you feel that Agent Thorne holds a personal animosity against you? Do you believe that he, personally, hates you?"
Jack smiled. It wasn't a mocking smile, but a calm and charismatic one. "Malicious... no, I don't think that's the right word, Mr. Prosecutor. Agent Thorne is a man of impeccable professionalism. And I am absolutely certain he is a patriot."
The answer completely threw Davies off. "A patriot? But isn't your central argument that he has persecuted you unjustly?"
"Oh, he has persecuted me. With a tenacity and focus that I find, frankly, admirable," Jack replied, his tone conversational, almost as if they were chatting at a club. "But I don't believe he does it out of malice. He does it because he sincerely believes I am a threat. He believes, in his heart of hearts, that he is protecting his country from me. His motivation isn't hatred, it's duty."
"And isn't he? Aren't you a threat?" Davies pressed.
"He's doing his job," Jack said, his voice reasonable, almost compassionate. "A very difficult job, I imagine. They're trying to apply their old laws and regulations to a completely new reality, and it just doesn't fit. It isn't malice that drives him, Mr. Davies. It's fear. Fear of the unknown, of what he can't control. And honestly, I understand."
Davies was speechless. His attempt to paint Jack as a paranoid conspiracy theorist had fallen apart. Jack had painted himself as the only understanding and reasonable man in the room.
"So, to be perfectly clear," Davies continued, trying to regain control, "you claim to have no personal animosity toward the agent leading the investigation that could send you to prison for the rest of your life."
"Absolutely none," Jack confirmed, his sincerity seemed so perfect it was unassailable. "In fact, in a way, I pity him. He's a good soldier, a loyal and dedicated soldier, who has simply ended up on the losing side of history. And that is a very lonely and tragic position."
The judge's gavel fell with a thunderous crack, making everyone in their seats jump.
"Enough! The show is over! Mr. Davies, your time is up! Mr. Jack, return to your seat! This court will be in recess until ten o'clock tomorrow morning to consider the motions presented. Get out of my courtroom!"
Jack stood, gave the judge a respectful nod, and returned to his table. As the marshals approached to escort him from the room, he leaned toward Yuls.
"A flawless performance, counselor," he whispered, with an almost imperceptible wink.
Yuls watched him go, a feeling of triumph and awe washing over her. They had entered the room as the accused, the cornered outsiders. But somehow, Jack had manipulated everything. He had made the powerful and secret government look like a scared, aggressive entity, and had presented himself not as a defendant, but as a sympathetic victim of the inevitable march of time.
As she gathered her things and left the courtroom, she felt a presence beside her. It was Captain Miller, his police uniform wrinkled and his face marked by a weariness that seemed to go beyond a lack of sleep.
"You're a good lawyer, Ms. Sinclair," he said quietly, his tone serious and devoid of any irony. "Too good to be on the wrong side of history."
"Captain, I'm just defending my client," Yuls replied, defensively.
"Do you really know who you're defending?" Miller retorted, stopping and looking her in the eyes. "I know what you see. A charismatic, brilliant man who does things no one else can do. A savior."
"I see a man who is being persecuted for doing the right thing," Yuls said, her voice firm.
Miller let out a bitter, joyless laugh. "The right thing... Do you know anything about his past? From before he was 'Gamma Jack'? Have you ever asked him?"
"His past isn't relevant to this case. What matters is what he does now," Yuls argued, feeling a pang of irritation. "A man's past doesn't negate the lives he saves in the present. Jack stops threats you and Thorne couldn't even dream of handling."
"So the ends justify the means? The cost doesn't matter?" Miller challenged her.
"Sometimes, yes," Yuls replied, her voice lowering, becoming more intense. "We live in a new world, Captain. A world with monsters like Fractal. The old rules, the old morality, they aren't enough anymore. You look at Jack and you see someone who doesn't fit into your system. I see someone who is the only reason your system hasn't collapsed yet. Maybe the world doesn't need a saint. Maybe it needs a necessary evil, someone willing to do what 'good' men like you cannot. If his past is dark... frankly, I don't care. What I care about is the future he's securing."
Miller looked at her for a long moment, an expression of sadness crossing his face. He didn't seem angry, but disappointed. Before she could add anything else, he placed a thin manila file in her hand. It was old, the corners were worn.
"Maybe you're right. Or maybe you're just very young," Miller said quietly. "Before you turn him into a martyr, before you decide which evils are necessary, read this. It's the original police report. The one I wrote myself many years ago, when I was a rookie."
Yuls looked at the file in her hand. On the label, typewritten with a faded ribbon, she read the words: "Industrial Incident. Metroville Steel Foundry. Victim: Murdoch, Alistair."
She looked up, confused, but Miller was already gone, disappearing into the crowd of reporters and lawyers that filled the hallway.
She was left alone, the noise from the hallway faded to a distant hum. In her hands, she wasn't just holding an old police report. She was holding a piece of Jack's past. He had never told her about Alistair Murdoch.
