Free Losing Faith by Adam Mitzner

conscience, the angel on her shoulder telling her that even Nicolai Garkov is entitled to judgment by someone free from bias. And then she thinks about Roy Sabato telling his client about the pros and cons of Faith’s assignment to the case, without the slightest notion that it was already over for Garkov the moment her name rolled out of the wheel.

10
    A aron can’t recall ever being so nervous before a court appearance.
    He’s about to blindside Faith. She’s expecting Roy Sabato, and instead she’s going to be confronted by the one lawyer she doesn’t want to have sitting at counsel table. But what choice does he have? Calling to give Faith a heads-up wasn’t an option. For all he knew, she might have used such contact without the prosecution present—a big no-no called ex parte in legal jargon—as a reason to disqualify him, which would almost certainly have caused Garkov to go public about the affair.
    The gallery is full of members of the press, the lucky ones who were granted access to report on the proceedings firsthand. A hundred or so of their colleagues have been shut out of the main event, relegated to shouting questions on the courthouse steps after the hearing.
    From Aaron’s presence at counsel table, the members of the media in the courtroom now know of the change in counsel. Faith won’t become so aware, however, until she takes the bench and sees Nicolai Garkov sandwiched between Aaron and Rachel London.
    Three hard knocks on the doorpost connecting the judge’s chambers and the courtroom announce that the judge is about to enter. “All rise!” the court officer bellows. The massive wooden door leading to the judge’s chambers swings open and all eyes turn toward the Honorable Faith Nichols.
    Even cloaked in her loose-fitting black robe, Faith looks more like a 1940s Hollywood star than a United States district court judge.Her dark hair is down and loose, and she flashes a glimpse of her calf when she walks.
    Aaron feels almost light-headed. Focus , he tells himself.
    “Please be seated,” Faith says without looking up. Then her eyes meet Aaron’s, and she swallows hard. After a momentary pause, she says, “Uh, counsel, please state your appearances for the record.”
    Aaron can only imagine that Faith is seething inside. He wishes he could convey somehow that this isn’t his fault, convinced that she’d understand if she knew all that he did.
    The prosecutor stands first. “Good morning, Your Honor. David Sanyour, assistant United States attorney, representing the United States of America. I am joined this morning by Assistant United States Attorney Michael Herrera.”
    Aaron knows Sanyour from past battles and respects him as an adversary. The person David Sanyour reminds Aaron of most is not a person at all, but Buzz Lightyear from the Toy Story movies. Erect, solid, sternly chipper, he looks the way you might imagine lawyers appeared in the 1950s, with short-cropped hair and black-plastic–framed glasses. There’s something absurdly robotic about him, made all the more comical by the seriousness with which he believes in his own moral superiority.
    “Good morning, Mr. Sanyour. And you, too, Mr. Herrera,” Faith says. Then she turns and stares hard at Aaron. “And it appears we have two new lawyers present for the defense.”
    Aaron rises to address Faith. “Good morning, Judge Nichols. Aaron Littman of the law firm Cromwell Altman Rosenthal and White. With me is my partner Rachel London. If it pleases the court, we move to be substituted as counsel of record for Nicolai Garkov.”
    Aaron says this with a friendly smile, but Faith doesn’t return the gesture. Her face is locked in a grimace, as if she’s just swallowed something particularly foul tasting.
    “This certainly does not please the court, Mr. Littman. Not even a little bit. In fact, I find it the height of arrogance for you to cometo this proceeding and take your place next to Mr. Garkov as if my granting your