34 Objection

The next week Bridget shows up at my flat a few times to tell me what’s going to happen and what I should expect from the prosecution. She tells me what I should and shouldn’t wear; which apparently is a huge deal. She also tells me that even though it’s a high-profile case, they can’t get a gag order. Unfortunately the press has a right to report on anything that isn’t life threatening. Just like OJ’s case, it will be in open court. Although, now they can’t actually bring cameras into the courtroom.

I end up having to attend the pre-trial conferences. They’re held in chambers and at secret times and the only time I’m allowed out of my home. The only thing that really happens is they go over the evidence they have for and against me. They list off the witnesses they have planned. I’m surprised by some of them, but there isn’t much I can do about any of it. I’m just along for the ride at this point. Most of the time, I let the meeting drown on and just block out whatever they’re on about.

The only good that comes out of this is that for the first week that I’m at home, I get to sleep next to my husband. But then, he leaves. He was supposed to leave two days after I got home from shoot ‘Half the Battle’, but he talked to the producer and they gave him a few more days.

Once he’s gone, I’m pretty much all by myself in our flat. Johnny hires someone to stop by every day to bring food or take my laundry. She’s pretty much just an assistant, though I’ve never really wanted one. But at this point, it’s a little necessary since I’m confined to this stupid place.

Since I’m high-profile, a jury is meticulously hand selected, all the processes are followed to a T, and they take their time to get everything perfect. They think the media is going to be all over this case and they want to make sure that they can’t be accused of doing anything wrong.

It’s two months from the time I had shown up at arraignment and we’re finally going to court. And despite everything that’s happening all I can think is ‘I wish Topher was here’. Of course I talk to him every time I can, but they are so many factors against us. There’s a six hour time difference. He works long days and doesn’t get much sleep to begin with. But since I’m cooped up in this flat with nothing to do but wallow in my own self-pity, I wait to hear from him. It doesn’t matter what time it is, I always answer his calls.

And just like any other time, as I put on my much anticipated suit, I wait for him. He told me he would try to call before I had to leave, but I know that he’s busy and told him not to worry about it. I don’t want to burden him more than I already have.

Ends up that I don’t hear from him. It gets down to time and I have to leave. In departure, I don’t bring my mobile with me. I don’t have a need for it and it would have to be powered off anyway.

Bridget tells me to prepare myself as we get into the car, although for what I’m not sure. I soon find out as we pull up to the courthouse.

There are swarms of people on the steps and sidewalk leading to the building. Some are paparazzi, some are fans, and some are picketers. Everyone is shouting whether it’s good or bad, I can’t tell. Either way, there are barriers placed so that there’s a path from me to walk up.

When someone opens my door this time, it’s a police officer and not an usher to the red carpet. I am escorted, however. There are two officers in front of me and two behind. People still reach out to grab my arms or touch me in general. It’s a bit strange, if I’m honest. But I try to keep my head down and out of the limelight. Bridget says that’s the best way to go about it.

“You don’t want the court to think you’re using this as a publicity stunt,” she had said one night. “The prosecution would eat that up. Just keep your head down and walk.”

And that’s exactly what I do.

-----

“All rise,” the bailiff announces as the judge walks through his chamber’s door. “Federal District Court is now is session. The honorable Judge Susan Everett presiding. The people of the United States verses Damian Ashton, indictment number 73596.”

Once Judge Everett is seated, she looks up from her stand and puts her glasses on as she talks, “Please be seated. This is a suit by the federal government as I understand it accusing Mister Damian Ashton of Illegal Immigration and Marriage Fraud. Are both sides present and ready for these proceedings?” After a quick ‘yes your honor’ from both attorneys, the judge speaks again, “Bailiff, if you would please swear in the jury.”

The bailiff does as he’s told and the jury swears under oath that they will indeed give me a fair trial and wait for all the evidence to be presented before issuing a verdict.

“Let us start now with the opening statements. Mister Halloran the floor is yours,” Judge Everett swipes her hand toward the jury.

“Thank you, your honor,” he begins by standing up and fastening his jacket buttons one at a time. Once he’s presentable, he faces the jury, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the federal government is here to prove the Mister Ashton is in the United States illegally. We will also show you that his marriage was obtained under false pretense and therefore invalid.”

“Miss Madison, it’s your turn,” the judge indicates the same the way she did to the former lawyer.

Bridget stands, straightening her pencil skirt, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the allegations against my client are outlandish. We will show that this is just a tired act of a judgmental father. The evidence against my client will show you that there’s nothing more here than an over-powerful man trying to exact revenge against his grown son.”

“Very well,” the judge announces. “Let’s get these proceedings underway. Mister Halloran, call your first witness.”

The first witness they call, to my misfortune, is my father. They get him sworn in and settled before Halloran starts, “Will you please state your name for the court?”

“My name is Clark Hill,” his voice is gravel and firm like it always has been.

“And could you tell the court your title please?”

“I am the Deputy Executive Associate Director of Enforcement and Removal Operations for Immigrations and Customs,” he squares his shoulders like he’s proud.

“In Laymen terms, what does that mean?”

“It means that I oversea the ICE program.”

“And what does Mister Ashton have to do with you?”

“Since he’s here illegally, it’s my problem.”

“He’s been in your sights for a long time?”

“I’ve known that Damian has been in the country for a few years, but I could never catch up with him. He evades me pretty well,” his smirk is wicked because he knows what he’s saying is truth, only it’s misconstrued.

“And why has your interest been on him so long?”

“We believe that he has documents saying that he’s a legal resident.”

The questions continue to where my father spits out near-truths until it’s time for his cross examine.

Bridget looks like a force to be reckoned with as she stands only to half perch herself on the desk we’ve been sitting behind, “Mister Hill can you tell me why someone who is so high in the ranks of I.C.E as yourself is going after such a low level criminal as my client?”

“Your client violated United States law. I go after anyone who does such a thing,” his smile looks victorious until Bridget speaks again.

“I understand that, but” she stands and walks closer to him, “don’t people of your stance usually pass these cases down to someone who can investigate further; someone who doesn’t have as many responsibilities as you?”

“Sometimes cases require a little more prestige.”

“So you can’t trust your detectives to collar a simple criminal such as my client who was in fact in plain sight. He attended live premieres and press interviews. He was constantly in the public eye. When it turned out that he was married to Hollywood’s golden boy, Topher Ashton, there was even a website dedicated to the sightings of the couple.” She pauses for a second and tilts her head, “You don’t think that your detectives capable of finding one of the most publicized men on the planet?”

“No, I think they most certainly are. I also believe since Damian has such a stature a little more poise should be given.”

“Poise as in the six different police cars you ordered to sit in front of his apartment building and the ‘accidental’,” she puts finger quotes around the last word, “leak to the press on who you’d be picking up?”

“I have no knowledge of who the leak was. If I find out, I assure you that it will be taken care of,” he gives her what most people would think to be a genuine smile, but I can see the acid behind it.

I know that look. He really wants to hit her.

“That’s all well in theory, but I don’t believe that’s the case. I think there’s another reason that you were so close to this case.” She turns to take a few steps toward me before suddenly turning back to Clark, “How long did you say you worked on this case, Mister Hill?”

“A few years.”

“Then you know Mister Ashton’s name has changed? Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Could you tell the jury what Damian’s birth name is?”

“Damian Jacob Moore-Hill.”

“His last name was Moore-Hill? That quite a coincidence isn’t it, Mister Hill?” When he doesn’t answer she shakes her head, “No, I think you’re right. It’s not so much of a coincidence because he’s your son, isn’t he?”

“Objection! Leading,” Halloran raises a brow at the judge.

“I’ll rephrase your honor,” she holds her hand up to the ADA in mock defense. “Do you know if my client is blood related to you, Mister Hill?”

“Yes.”

“And how is my client related to you?”

My father doesn’t say anything; he just stares at my attorney.

“Mister Hill,” Judge Everett grabs his attention. “Let me remind you, you are under oath and Miss Madison has asked you a question.” The judge motions to Bridget, “Please re-ask your question.”

Bridget walks up to the witness box and places her hands on the ledge, “Mister Hill, how are you related to my client?”

Glaring at her, Clark clears his throat, “He’s biologically my son.”

“So maybe it wasn’t finesse or prestige that Mister Ashton needed. Maybe, it was just a father angry at his son for not wanting to be a part of his life. Is that right, Mister Hill?”

“No it-”

“Is it not true that Damian told you he didn’t want to be a part of your life?”

“He did say that, but-”

Bridget straightens and puts her hand on her hips, “And did that make you angry?”

“He wouldn’t listen to me,” he says trough his teeth. “I told him he shouldn’t be-”

But before he can say anything else, Bridget shakes her head, “No further question.”

After Clark, the prosecution calls a few more people. Everyone is professionals talking about how my paperwork could be forged. But every time Halloran lines them up, Bridget knocks them down. They say it’s not in the system, she asks how many cases get lost all the time. She makes one of them agree that someone that is ‘higher in the chain of command’ can change things found in the government systems that hold said paperwork. She makes an officer admit that what Clark did was excessive for even a dangerous criminal – which I’m not. And she creates a completely different picture from the one that the prosecution is trying to paint.

The judge calls the first day to an officially end hours later. The first day goes so well that even I’m breathing a bit easier. Maybe we can win this.

~A/N~

Sorry this is late guys. I have been sick. Like really sick. Like hospital sick for the last couple days. But no one worry. I'm out and I'm mending. And luckily, I already had this chapter written.

(See I told you it was a good idea to keep it at once a week.)

Thanks for your votes and your wonderful comments. You guys are amazing.

And sorry if there are errors. I literally rolled out of bed to post this. That's how much I love you all.

Day on the side.