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“A couple of weeks ago?”
“That’s what I said.”
Stevie stepped even closer to Mr. Ferguson, then she held up her cellphone in front of him. “Is this your Facebook account?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not set to private. Your Instagram account is, but because you linked it to your Facebook account, anything you post privately on Instagram is also posted to your non-private Facebook account. Did you get all of that?”
Mr. Ferguson cut his eyes over at me, and I knew right then that he’d fucked up again. I just didn’t know what he’d done this time.
“Yes or no, Mr. Ferguson?” Stevie pressed. My client growled out “Yes” and then Stevie held her cellphone even closer to his face. “What is the date of your Facebook post on my phone screen?”
I finally stood up with another objection to the court—this time, about the apparent evidence that Stevie had against my client. Evidence that I knew nothing about. And again, Judge Smith blew off my objection. Then Stevie looked over her shoulder at me.
“Mr. Buchanan, you have the same access to social media that I do,” she snapped. “It isn’t my fault that you didn’t do your homework.”
Stevie’s eyes had daggers in them while she was making that smart-ass comment to me. I sighed in frustration and then shook my head at her, trying to contain my own anger about the bullshit being allowed inside this courtroom right now.
Stevie briefly turned her attention back to my client, then looked over at Judge Smith. “Please continue, Ms. Sinclair,” he said, smiling at her.
“Thank you, your honor.”
I completely gave up at that point and sat back down in my chair at the defense table to take in the rest of the show. I wouldn’t be objecting to another damn thing because it was absolutely pointless.
“Again, Mr. Ferguson,” Stevie said, looking at him again and holding her cellphone right in front of his face. “What is the date of your Facebook post on my phone screen?”
“Yesterday.”
“So you lied to this court?”
“I just didn’t remember when I posted last. It’s not a big deal.”
“But it is—especially since the photos in your post show you smoking what appears to be marijuana with some friends of yours.”
Mr. Ferguson cut his eyes over at me again and I shrugged my shoulders at him.
“No, it was just tobacco,” he said.
“Your honor, I’d like to request a drug test on this defendant before we go any further with these proceedings,” Stevie said.
As soon as the words left her mouth, Mr. Ferguson slapped her cellphone out of her hand, sending it flying across the room. Judge Smith and I jumped to our feet and then my client lunged at Stevie from across the witness stand. She stepped back just in time to avoid him putting his hands on her and seconds later, I had mine on him, restraining him while he screamed profanities and tried to break free. The bailiff was by my side within seconds and got Mr. Ferguson in handcuffs, then started walking him out of the courtroom. Before they made it to the side door, though, Mr. Ferguson looked back and smiled at Stevie in a way that made my stomach churn.
“Karma’s a bitch,” he said.
“You know that well, don’t you, Billy Ferguson?”
Stevie’s question, as well as the smirk on her face, were clearly meant to antagonize my client and it worked.
He screamed, “Fuck you!” at the top of his lungs and was then hauled away. Once he was out of the courtroom, I turned and looked at Stevie, Judge Smith, and everyone else present.
“My sincerest apology to all of you for my client’s actions. I did not see any of it coming,” I said.
“I did, Mr. Buchanan.”
I met Stevie’s gaze as soon as she said that and noticed her smirk was gone, along with the daggers in her eyes. All that I saw now was her concern about what had just happened. We all knew how easily and quickly the situation with Mr. Ferguson could’ve evolved into a much worse one. Had he been able to reach Stevie across the witness stand, he would’ve hurt her. He was a big man and he was strong. Yes, Stevie would’ve undoubtedly fought back with everything she had, but it wouldn’t have been enough and I would’ve felt even worse than I already did now had she been injured.
I acknowledged what Stevie had said by nodding at her, then walked back over to the defense table and sat down, waiting to hear what Judge Smith had to say. Like I already expected, he ordered Mr. Ferguson to a drug test. I knew the result of it was going to be positive for marijuana and probably for other illegal substances too. I also knew Mr. Ferguson would soon be permanently losing all of his parental rights to his son and now, I agreed that it was best. He’d blown the two chances that he’d been given to be a good father and there wasn’t going to be a third chance. There was no charm to be found in this unfortunate case.
