Then back at Hale.
“You are not in trouble because you struck a judge.”
Her voice remained calm.
“You are in trouble because you believed there was a category of woman you were permitted to treat that way.”
Hale said nothing.
Josephine continued.
“My title does not make your conduct wrong.”
“It makes your inability to dismiss what happened inconvenient.”
Walter Greene looked away.
The old bailiff’s eyes had filled.
Josephine picked up her briefcase.
One hinge had broken.
Walter immediately bent to help gather the papers.
So did several attorneys.
One defendant waiting for his own hearing crouched and picked up a page carefully.
“Ma’am.”
Josephine looked toward him.
He handed it over.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Then looked at Hale.
The expression on his face needed no explanation.
Captain Brooks ordered Hale into an interview room.
He refused initially.
“Am I suspended?”
“Yes.”
“By whose authority?”
“Mine.”
“You can’t suspend me without review.”
“I can remove you from duty pending review.”
“You’re doing this because she’s a judge.”
Brooks stared at him.
“No.”
Then she pointed toward Leah’s camera.
“I’m doing this because I just watched you order an officer to stop recording after you assaulted someone in front of forty witnesses.”
Hale looked around.
For the first time, he seemed to count the crowd.
He went with her.
Josephine entered chambers at ten forty-one.
Her robe hung exactly where her clerk had left it.
The sight of it affected her unexpectedly.
For years the robe had felt ordinary.
Heavy black wool.
Too warm in summer.
Too formal during long chambers conferences.
That morning it looked like armor she had accidentally left behind.
Rebecca Song, Josephine’s senior law clerk, stood near the desk with an ice pack.
Her hands were shaking.
“Judge.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
Josephine almost smiled.
“That was quick.”
“Your lip is bleeding.”
“Barely.”
“Your cheek is swelling.”
“Yes.”
“You were assaulted.”
Josephine put down the damaged briefcase.
Rebecca’s anger broke through.
“In the courthouse.”
“Yes.”
“On the fourth floor.”
“I know where we are, Rebecca.”
The clerk immediately looked embarrassed.
“Sorry.”
Josephine exhaled.
“Don’t be.”
She sat.
Rebecca wrapped the ice pack in a towel and handed it over.
Josephine pressed it against her cheek.
Cold pain shot toward her temple.
She closed her eyes.
For approximately thirty seconds, she allowed herself to feel everything.
Shock.
Humiliation.
Anger.
Fear she had not admitted in the hallway.
Hale’s hand grabbing her arm had frightened her.
The slap had frightened her more.
Not the pain.
The speed with which the encounter transformed.
Question.
Grip.
Accusation.
Force.