Page 8

8

FINN

I 've been to court a few times before, but never as someone here to observe the proceedings. I was always the guy at the table with a sleazy lawyer paid by my father to get me out of the hot water I got myself into. Today, I'm here to listen and retain information, then use that to get what I want out of the prosecutor. I'm also here to watch the beautiful Ms. Gallagher who hasn't spoken to me since the night I saved her from those bastards on the street.

She sits at her table poring over her files while we wait for the judge. After opening arguments, which both lawyers handled well, the judge granted a short recess, and now we'll begin hearing testimony. I'm tense, wishing this were over and I could get back to my normal job, but Mick has been our ally less than a year, and ensuring he remains free to continue fully integrating his operations to ours is essential.

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Callahan." The court official speaks from his position near the door to the judge's chambers, and everyone in this courtroom takes notice. We all stand in a rush of squeaking seats and moaning of wood.

The judge strolls in, his silky black robe billowing in the breeze his movements create. He has a scowl on his face that looks permanently glued there and a very bad combover as evidence to his vain attempt to stay youthful. It's comical, but not anything I haven't seen on most men his age and economical class. He's the center of attention here in this courtroom, and he's proud as a peacock of it.

"You may be seated," he grunts as he lowers himself into his chair. The herd of men and women in this room lower into their places. I'm no exception.

Brennan sits next to me, Isla to her left. Rebecca isn't here today, too emotional to come watch her father be grilled like a slab of meat over something he hasn't done. Mick looks back over his shoulder at us and presses two fingers to his lips and points them at his wife. Brenan is shaking.

I squeeze her hand as Siobhan calls her name. "Your Honor, I'd like to call Mrs. Brennan O'Connor to the stand."

Brennan rises, and I notice Isla rubbing her belly nervously. She glances at me through the gap created as her mother stands, and I move my knees to the side to let Brennan squeeze out the end of the row.

She takes the stand, placing her hand on a closed Bible to be sworn in. The whole courtroom stares at her eagerly, the first witness to the prosecution, subpoenaed against her will in an attempt to force her to tattle on her husband. It's dirty, but it's how this game is played.

Siobhan takes a piece of paper from her briefcase and holds it in her hands, as if it's a script for what she wants to say. Her eyes continue to scan it as she walks around the prosecutor's table and strolls up to where Brennan has taken her seat in the witness box. The jury of twelve hand-selected men and women fix their eyes on her as she begins her questioning.

"Mrs. O'Connor, thank you for joining us today. I understand this must be challenging for you, but I just have a few questions." I wish I could see the beautiful prosecutor's face to read it, but her back is to me and likely will be for much of the proceedings.

Brennan says nothing. She looks terrified, hugging her purse to her belly, staring at Mick with a blank expression and pale features.

"Mrs. O'Connor, is it true you wrote in your sworn statement that your husband, the defendant, Mick O'Connor, was at the pub with his friends and family the night of the murder, April twentieth?" A stab at Mick's alibi. We knew that was coming.

"Yes, that's true." Brennan was coached to give one-word answers and keep it short. I hope she does the right thing.

"And is it true that you don't actually know where he was?" Siobhan lowers the paper and stares at Brennan, who shrugs.

"Yes, that's true."

"Mrs. O'Connor, what sort of man is your husband?" Siobhan pauses and looks at the jury for a moment before continuing. "Is he angry or abusive? Does he have outbursts of temper?"

"Objection, your honor, irrelevant." Mick's solicitor stands and shakes his head.

"Grounds for cause, your honor. I aim to prove Mick O'Connor is a violent man, and who better to prove that than the person who knows him best?" Siobhan's eyes zero in on the solicitor's face, and she catches a glimpse of me. I watch her swallow hard and turn back to the judge.

"I'll allow it. Please continue." The judge seems relaxed. Maybe it's because he already knows what he'd decide in this matter, but thankfully, it's not up to him. A jury gets to decide Mick's fate. "Mrs. O'Connor, please answer the question.

"My husband is a good man," Brennan offers, but she looks sad now, eyes searching her husband's face.

"Mrs. O'Connor, did you know your husband had a secret business running out of the barns on your property?" She stares at Brennan, who does a very lovely job of feigning ignorance.

Brennan glances at the judge with eyes wide and eyebrows raised in a fake expression of shock. "Well, no, ma'am. We're farmers." Just as we coached, Mick's wife is doing a fantastic job.

"Is it true that your husband, Mick, was involved in several altercations over the years, four of which resulted in charges being pressed against him for domestic violence?" Siobhan is going for the jugular now, and Brennan says nothing. "And is it true he spent thirty days in jail for one of those incidents?"

Brennan's eyes bounce back and forth between Mick's and the prosecutors. We had no idea this was going to be brought up. No one prepared her for how to answer this. We focused on coaching her how to avoid the topics of Mick's businesses.

"Mrs. O'Connor, answer the question." The judge nudges her, and she clears her throat.

"Yes." Brennan is terrified. I can see it on her face.

"Mrs. O'Connor, is it true that one of those incidents was something that sent you to the hospital?" There it is. The guillotine has dropped. Siobhan went there fast too.

Brennan's head drops and she covers her mouth, stifling a sob, but Siobhan says, "No further questions, your honor." It's a cheap trick designed to shock the jury—who are speaking in hushed whispers right now—into thinking Mick is abusive. It won't stand.

Mr. Quinn stands now, poised to undo everything Siobhan just did. He rounds the table and walks straight up to Brennan, offering her a tissue from his pocket. It's like he orchestrated this knowing how the jury would look at her. It's pity, and it tugs their heart strings, especially because it comes from Mick's solicitor.

"Here you go, Mrs. O'Connor, I'm sorry counsel has dragged you through this. Do you need a moment?"

That's it, Quinn, play to their sympathies. Brennan is a helpless wife forced to turn on her husband, and the jury is eating out of your hand now. Just a few cards left to play now, and we'll see the shock on Siobhan's face, and I wish I could see it too. The same expression she had when I dropped to my knees and devoured her.

"No, that's okay." Brennan dabs her eyes and sniffles and Quinn goes on.

"Mrs. O'Connor, for clarification, please tell the court why you were hospitalized that night." He hovers, the ever-doting solicitor who wants the jury to eat out of his palm.

Brennan sniffles and begins. "We had someone break into our barn and mess with the animals. It was during the day when Mick was in the lower pasture. I rushed out with a shovel to chase them off, a young man with no sense, really. And when Mick came running, he—" She stopped short and looked embarrassed. "Well, he ran me over entirely. I hit my head quite hard, but he caught the bastard trying to steal one of our horses."

The courtroom erupts into gasps and hushed whispers again, and I chuckle. I remember that story Isla told us a few months back. She was utterly shocked to find out her father was chief of his own crime syndicate and never connected things together. Stories like that one are what bloodthirsty solicitors go after when they're scrambling for real evidence. Emotional manipulation is what it is.

"So it was an accident that happened when someone broke into your barn?" Quinn eyes the jury and turns back to face Mick as he speaks to Brennan. "And tell me about the other times your husband, the defendant, Mick O'Connor, was charged with assault."

"Well, all of them were times when someone came onto our property, Mr. Quinn. Mick was just protectin' our land." Brennan is brilliant, and Mick sits tall and proud. Of course, there's proof for all of this.

"Your Honor, I'd like to enter into evidence these documents from court history proving Mr. Quinn's actions were in self-defense of his own property and do not reflect the nature of his personality whatsoever." Quinn picks up a stack of papers from his table and walks them to the judge's bench. Siobhan glares at him and can't even object. This is going swimmingly.

After a few moments, Judge Callahan looks up at Quinn and nods, and Quinn says, "No further questions, Your Honor."

Pews squeak and chairs squeal as folks readjust the way they're sitting. When the judge instructs Siobhan to call her next witness, she turns to meet my gaze and there's a fire there, a hunger for truth, or maybe for me, I'm not sure. Ronan, seated behind me, taps my shoulder.

"How's it going?" he asks in a whisper. I know he's referring to the plan I have to sway Ms. Gallagher's opinion of Mick and help him become a free man again.

"Good. I have her right where I want her," I throw over my shoulder in an equally hushed tone.

"You'd better," Ro says, and as he does, Siobhan calls his name.

"Your Honor, I'd like to call Ronan O'Rourke, chief of the O'Rourke Clan."

The room stills and goes silent. I'm not sure what she's going to ask him, but now I know why he's here.