CHAPTER FIVE
Samantha frowned at Opus Clinton. She wasn't a malicious person but right now she wished he would disappear and never return. For a lawyer, he could really be a pest when he chose to be. And he'd been attacking her client quite maliciously.
She glanced down at Sandra Kufre, who was staring straight ahead, quite unseeing. Not only were her in-laws suspicious of her for the death of their son, they'd decided to ensure they wiped her clean of every penny.
Samantha's brows creased ever so deeply, willing herself to be calm. She didn't want to get on the Judges bad side and patiently waited for the prosecuting officer to finish his ranting, for that was indeed what he appeared to be doing to her and her client.
Feeling pitiful for the poor Mrs. Clinton, having a husband like that. Opus used to be one of the best lawyers she’d come across and often enjoyed the courtroom when they were on opposite sides. But right now, she could almost wish it was Chibuzor Nwanyibe. And she never wants to see him again!
He smiled satisfactorily as he concluded and the Judge turned to her. “Counselor?”
Sandra grabbed her hand just as she was about to get up. “I'm in need of fresh air, Sammy. Please.”
Smiling wanly, she laid an assuring hand on the one gripping hers and squeezed gently. “Thank you, Your Honor. My client has just requested for reprise as she's in need of fresh air due to her obvious condition.”
Mr. Opus got up. “My Lord!”
“Sustained.” His voice had just a hint of anger “Request granted, Counselor. This case is adjourned for fifteen minutes.” Everyone stood up as the judge left, pausing to speak with a chamberlain and pointed to the crowd before going into his chamber.
Sandra smiled at her. “Thank you, love. What would I do without you!”
Samantha laughed, “That's melodramatic of you. Well, let’s see, pretends to think. You'd probably have your in-law’s ears tied together and give them all a spanking.”
Smiling, “True.” Then winced when she made eye contact with one of her in-laws whose hateful gaze was directed at her. Samantha felt sorry for her friend.
“Sandra, ...”
Sandra waved it off, “It doesn't move me anymore. I just want this case closed, so I can start preparing for my baby.” Tapping at her huge stomach. “This guy here is as strong-headed as anyone of them. He's got his dad's streak of it.”
Laughing despite herself, Samantha helped her up, “You mean your stubborn streak of it.”
Now she grinned broadly. “I'll be in my car, Sam.”
Nodding, Samantha's eyes went to the in-laws who were staring daggers at Sandra's retreating back. One would think they'd at least be sympathetic as she was carrying their child.
They didn't care for the man who died nor for his unborn child, all they were fighting for was the money that Effiong Kufre had left behind; cash in abundance. Not once, according to Sandra did they visit except to get money and go back. Suddenly, he was dead, and they accuse the wife of poisoning him.
Samantha shook her dead. Sweet Sandra. She was selfless, very accommodating and one cannot help but like her. Why, she'd walked her way right in Samantha's heart despite her resolve to keep client in their category and not get personal. Sandra had managed to win her way into Samantha's heart.
One had to be hardhearted not to like Sandra. The only client whom she’d befriended.
The family she ended up in was too hard-headed to realize that Sandra was the sweetest person to know.
∞ ∞ ∞
He hadn't planned to be so early but when he'd found out she had another case the same day, he found himself in the courtroom before he could think of all the reasons not to.
To say he hadn't thought of her would be a lie. Every day had ended with the thought of her lulling him to sleep, and he always awoke with vivid details of the dream shed dominated.
The power of the mind.
Maybe he should just drop the file on her desk and disappear before she noticed him, he thought. He couldn't be sure she wanted to see him. After all, she had not tried to reach him, so he assumed shed changed her mind.
It was just as well. He wouldn't settle for less himself. Samantha glanced up and saw him before he could slip the folder down in front of her.
“Oh, it's you.” She said breathlessly, her breathing hitched.
It seemed like he wasn't the only one who had been thinking of the other person. He could still make a clean escape, but decided again that would be the coward’s way. Besides, he wanted to congratulate her for the way she handled the plaintiff. The man was a swine.
“Hi.” Okay, so she wasn't the only one breathless. He'd imagined seeing her again several times but none had prepared him for the meeting in person.
A clerk approached them, “Justice Muhammed would like to see you, sir.”
He smiled and thanked the officer. He'd expected it. The judge’s eyes had been on him several times during the proceedings.
“You know Justice Muhammed?” She asked incredulously.
He ginned “Not personally. Through my boss.”
She shook her head and gathered her things. “I won't keep you from,” she smiled lopsidedly, “... your boss' friend.”
Oh, he'd missed her. That hint of rough edge about her, he'd missed it. But he kept that to himself. 'I have something for you.'
Her brows shot up inquisitively.
He swallowed the sigh, “Where can I meet you?”
When she didn't answer or change her expression, he released the sigh. “I'll only be a minute to know what he wants then, I'll meet you. It’s really important.”
She bit her lower lip in a contemplative and indecisive gesture. The sweet play of emotions on her face was the high point of his day. He didn't think thinking could be so captivating.
Her gaze slipped to his, and she blurted, “The cafeteria.”
He smiled, knowing her, she wouldn't have wanted to go there, but she obviously didn't want to be alone with him.
“Okay,” he agreed amicably and watched her escape.
Yep. That was most definitely an escape.
∞ ∞ ∞
The chamber was very spacious. A table was set in the middle. If he knew anything of furniture, he would have known it was Victorian. The wall was painted a dark brown and the lights looked ancient but functional. The left side of the room was dominated by a huge shelf with large volumes of books. Behind the Judge was another shelf with similar volumes.
A decanter of half-filled dry gin sat on the table that was almost bare of items except for a few stark of books on one side, the decanter and two glasses, a pen and an open file. The room was very neat and had just a hint of air freshener.
Justice Muhammed had his eyes trained on him, evaluative. He didn't mind. He was used to it. Many a bunch of rich folks have taken such interest in his person. Not minding was a point in his favor. After all, his new job came as a result of Gracie's assertive personality. All he had do was stand and be assessed.
“I thought I recognized your face. Am I correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
The judge stood up, “What's your name, boy?”
The tone brought a smile to his lips. It was just the tone he was used to with the chief judge. 'Mark Grinder, sir.'
“What kind of name is that? You are one of those people publicizing Western culture in our country.”
Now he smiled more. “Not really, sir. Well, my father was deaf when my mother met him. He was the guy at the local mill and everyone called him grinder. Somehow, the name stuck. My father was mute and uneducated. And when I was enrolled in school, my mother told them my surname was Grinder. Not very well-educated, my mother.”
The man began to laugh. Mark never thought the story funny, but he'd learned long ago to be merry over anything. And the story did sound ridiculous now that he thought of it.
“Smart woman, your mother. I have something to laugh about each time I remember you.”
Foolishly, Mark grinned. “Glad to help, sir.”
The judge critically studied him now. “What are you doing working for that old womanizing addict?”
Mark paused with a ready answer and considered the question and its implication. He didn't approve of his boss lifestyle; neither was he willing to rat about it to the first ready ear he met.
“Well, sir, I'm trying to get my degree in law after years of graduation and with his influence, I get to attend the special classes for the senior staff. I'd hoped to be judge one day so, it’s a good place to work.”
The judge considered the answer. “That's a smart mind you have there, boy. Don't get entrenched in his dirty businesses.”
Mark took the warning in good spirit. “I appreciate the advice, sir.”
“Well, nice chatting with you, Mark.”
Taking that as his cue to leave, he thanked the judge and left, remembering his meeting with Samantha at the cafeteria. Mark realized for the first time since first meeting the Justice Muhammad that the man didn't have a trace of accent. Quite incredible for a Northerner.
∞ ∞ ∞
Samantha concentrated on her next case, which was immediately after the one on remiss. She was ready for the case but couldn't shake off the feeling that she was missing something. She never made mistakes. All her notes and evidences had been thoroughly checked and verified.
She considered Sandra Kufre's case, not at all different in this part of the world where a man’s wealth always preceded his wife and family. Amazingly, Africa was best known for upholding family values.
If only they knew!
Sandra was going to win the case. She was certain of it, but she wondered about the in-laws and what else they might do when the child was born. So far, they didn't care. Maybe they felt threatened since it has been confirmed that it was a baby boy. Legally, all rites, and based on customs of the culture, would go fully to him. As a sneer, that could have sparked off envy.
First things first.
Mark approached her. Her breath hitched. Nothing had prepared her for meeting him again. After almost two months, she should have known she couldn't just escape it.
He smiled at her but didn't sit until she waved to the chair opposite her.
“I didn't know you were that acquainted with Judge Muhammad. That must have been an interesting conversation you had.” She observed.
“Yes, it was. And I'm sorry for keeping you from your case. I'll be brief and get out of your hair.”
She wondered. He always managed to get just a tad under her skin. And not in an annoying way. But shed schooled herself enough of her indulgence with him. She had to settle it with him once and for all. He opened a file he'd come in with and passed it over to her. She barely glanced down.
“I did some homework and I'm sure you already know this but the Chief Judge insisted you critically examined this case. Mr. Patrick has in the last couple of months…”
So engaged was she in her private thought that it took her a moment to register what he was saying.
“Justice Forase is your new boss?”
“Yes. Mr. Patrick has been involved in a series of illegal activities…”
She shook her head. She knew zilch about this person. “So, you're here on the Judge's orders.”
It took him a moment to answer. But when he did, it was with a smile, 'Yes.'
Later, she would consider what that meant. Right now, there was something else she needed to clear. “Look, Mr. Grinder. I understand you had some ideas about us,”
“I understand…”
“Let me finish, please.” She heaved a breath and released it, willing herself to handle it professionally.
“I can't settle for less than I contemplated. I'm sorry I dragged you into such mess.”
She saw him shrug, hoping he'd say something to alleviate the mood. He didn't seem bothered or angry, just plain nonchalant.
“I gathered as much when I didn't hear from you. Truth is, I don't think I would have gone ahead either. I have a lot to settle before I can contemplate taking on further responsibility.”
She almost, almost inquired what he meant. His proposal had said almost as much. He'd said it would be on his own terms and she'd have to change her name. These two had prompted her to consider the wisdom in what she was proposing.
“So, we are okay, right?”
“Yeah. I don't know about you but I wish we could forget about all of that and start over. I could use a friend”'
The smile came before she could stop it. “I'd like that.”
She listened to him give her details she already had and some she didn't know about and thought, they just might make good friends.
She was the one who exclaimed and his eyes went to the wall clock, getting up before he'd begin any apology. It was quite a show watching her precede him out of the cafeteria and ordered his mind to remember they were just friends now before his eyes strayed to her shapely form walking briskly off. He had no idea how sexy and elegant that was.
He let out a yowl and glanced at the smiling lady heavily pregnant who'd jabbed him and felt guilty having been caught staring at Samantha. For a pregnant woman, Samantha's client was just bursting with energy. She was already matching steps with Samantha.
“Who's the cute guy ogling you from behind, Sam?”
Samantha laughed, “Sandra, you get the most absurd thoughts in your head.”
“Well, if you're not interested, since my baby papa is no longer here, I could take him off your hands.”
Samantha turned and barely spared him a glance then started laughing again, “Who, him? Really Sandra, you need to cool off.”
“I would love to, but they never let me drink anything cold.” Wielding the bottle of water in her hand like a weapon.
Mark was quite enjoying Sandra and what show she presented.
“Give him a chance, Sam. He's very cute.” She said and with flourish, she preceded Samantha into the courtroom.
He averted his gaze and hurried past Samantha but not before he saw the deep crease of frown on her face as her step slowed.
∞ ∞ ∞
“For a woman carrying their child, they have maligned the wife of the deceased and have forcefully seized some of their joint properties, not realizing that the couple have equal shares of these properties. My colleague doesn't know this, thinking the house solely belongs to the deceased. As the defense has been my client for many years, I drafted the legal documents on their behalf.”
She passed a copy of the property document to the officer who handed it to the judge.
“The business owned solely by my client have been attacked by anonymous vandals a few days after my client was supposedly threatened by one of her in-law to hand it over.
“Let's not forget that she was also harassed on the day of the deceased funeral by the mother of the deceased and called spiteful names. My Lord, the deceased's family denied my client the use of her marital name…”
“Objection, My Lord. The defense decided to change her name.”
“Exactly.” Samantha put in, “after the first attempt by her husband's family to confiscate her personal properties on the grounds that it belongs to their son.”
“Overruled.” The judge announced. “Proceed, Counselor.”
Samantha hid the smile well, “Thank you, Your Honor. Due to the numerous threats, my client came to my office one day barely restraining hurtful tears to seek counsel as to her personal property. I gave counsel to change her business name to her maiden name. This, I handled personally, ensuring all legal work was taken care of.”
“My Lord, if I may.” Mr. Opus got up.
Samantha merely glanced at him.
“Counselor?”
She nodded to the judge in assent.
“You may proceed, Counsel.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
Samantha sat down and watched the hatred in his eyes as his gaze fell on her client. He'd turned the case into a personal vendetta. He used to be a good lawyer. She couldn't imagine what changed.
“Your Honor, my colleague advised her client to change her marital name over a small family misunderstanding.'
She grabbed Sandra's hand before her client could do something rash. “I'll take care of it.”
Sandra relaxed some.
“Counselor?” The judge asked.
She stood up with a smile. She already knew what the judge would say about that.
“That wasn't wise now was it?”
“Your Honor, my counsel was only a result of the physical attack on my client.”
“She attacked us with a pitch fork.” One of the in-laws shouted.
Knowing her client, she shot her a look and reluctantly, Sandra shrugged and settled back down.
“I will maintain decorum in the courtroom.” The judge's tone was enough warning.
Mr. Opus hissed at one of his clients and told him to be quiet. It was a lost cause for them. Samantha thought.
“Your Honor, my client was physically attacked in her own home as the witnesses testified earlier. In defense of herself and her unborn child, my client picked up the only available weapon to ward them off. Whatever injuries incurred were just a result of a tormented wife and mother.
“Very important also to note, My Lord, is that the will of the deceased and my client clearly states that all joint property be handed down to the child if one or both parents should incur an accident.”
She handed the will to the officer and waited as the judge read through, his face poker-like, he glanced up at her.
“That will be all, Your Honor.”
Sandra clutched her hand tightly. The grip was firm. It hurt. But she wouldn't say so, rather, she smiled assuredly. The waiting was the most strenuous part for the judge to give the final verdict.
One didn't take sentiments into the courtroom. That was the downfall of Opus. He needed to draw the line between case and sentiments. If it had been any other lawyer, she would have asked Sandra if they'd had a misunderstanding before. With Opus, one didn't need to have had any previous dealings with him before he showed his other side.
The Judge cleared his throat and Sandra's hand tightened on hers. Everyone looked on expectantly.
“Counsel?”
She got up. “Your Honor.”
“You verify that this will is original.”
“Attested by the Chief Judge himself.”
There was a low murmur as an official shouted, “Order in court.”
“So, what is your client’s plea?”
“She's not asking for any part of the joint properties, but for her personal properties be left alone and for the family to stop harassing her.”
“And the will was signed by both parties?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Thank you.”
She bowed slightly and returned to sit.
“Having seen evidence and heard the testimonies of witnesses for the defense and the prosecution, I hereby give this verdict.”
There was suddenly a chilled silence in the room.