“I am courthouse security.”
Margaret looked at him.
“You are an officer assigned here.”
“The supervisor is Captain Ellis.”
“Call him.”
Thomas nodded.
Miller’s shoulders rose.
“Chief Judge, you cannot detain me.”
Margaret’s voice became almost pleasant.
“I did not say you were detained.”
“I said you will remain here while the supervisor is notified.”
“You are free to leave if you wish.”
She paused.
“If you do, the surveillance footage will still exist.”
Miller stayed.
Of course he did.
Margaret looked at me.
“My chambers.”
“I have docket.”
“Your courtroom can wait.”
“I have seventeen matters.”
“And now you have a facial injury.”
“It’s minor.”
“That is not relevant.”
The irony nearly made me laugh.
That phrase.
Not relevant.
How many times had I said it from the bench when lawyers tried distracting from the actual issue?
Now Margaret was using it against my stubbornness.
“I need five minutes.”
“No.”
“Margaret.”
“Josephine.”
We rarely used first names publicly.
That ended argument.
I followed her.
As we walked away, I looked back once.
Miller stood in the hallway.
Officer Chen a few steps from him.
Thomas speaking rapidly into a phone.
Witnesses watching.
The papers had been collected.
The floor looked normal again.
That disturbed me.
Violence could vanish visually so quickly.
A clean floor.
A closed briefcase.
A woman walking away under her own power.
Then later someone would ask why it mattered so much.
Margaret’s chambers were two floors higher.
She shut the door behind us.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“That phrase should be banned from courthouses.”
I sat.
Margaret went to a cabinet and took out a first-aid kit.
“I can do that.”
“I know.”
She handed it to me instead.
Better.
I opened an antiseptic wipe.
The cut inside my lip stung.
Margaret watched.
“How hard?”
“Hard enough.”
“Any dizziness?”
“No.”
“Vision?”
“Fine.”
“Ear?”
“Ringing stopped.”
She took out her phone.
“I’m calling medical.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Margaret.”
“If you were a defendant who had just been struck in our hallway, would you tell them not to document injury?”
That stopped me.
I hated when she was right.
“Call.”
She did.
Then sat across from me.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Finally she said:
“Did you tell him who you were?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He laughed.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Of course he did.”
That answer surprised me.
“Of course?”