d**k by Law

1Tucker County Courthouse - Melville, Pennsylvania, 9:31 a.m."You guys have made my day!" Judge Jonah Bartlebaugh's rich, resonant voice boomed from the judge's bench in the vast main courtroom of the Tucker County courthouse. "Thank you for this!" Simon Bellerophon, who was sitting at the plaintiff's table near the front of the courtroom, smiled. The happier the judge, the better, right? Then why wasn't Simon's lawyer smiling, too? Simon frowned as he looked up at Quinn Keegan, his attorney. Quinn was standing beside him, eyes fixed on the judge, face unreadable. He was doing a great job of keeping his feelings under wraps, hiding them even from Simon, who knew him better than anyone. Because Quinn, after all, was his foster brother. Who better to help launch his mad quest for revenge? "Your Honor?" Quinn's flinty brown features were silhouetted in the sunlight streaming in from the big arched windows ringing the courtroom walls. Swirling dust formed a halo in the multicolored shaft from the stained glass dome in the cupola overhead. Judge Bartlebaugh chuckled and flapped a sheet of paper in the air. The crackling flap echoed through the giant, ornate courtroom, which was a remnant of the county's long-gone glory days. Tucker County had been a booming place twenty years ago, before the steel companies had pulled out of Melville, the big-money heart of the region, and shut down all the mills. "You do know this is a first-of-its-kind lawsuit, don't you?" "Yes, your honor." Quinn spoke gracefully, as he always did in court...or anywhere else, for that matter. "Well, thank you for cutting through the boredom!" Judge Bartlebaugh ran a hand up over his smooth, bare scalp and down the back of his silver fringe of hair. "So what's the gist of your argument?" "We see this as a case of truth in advertising," said Quinn. "Dangers to society should be labeled as such." Simon straightened in his chair, heart pounding as his brother made the case. There they were, going into battle side by side, kicking ass and taking names. And the enemy himself sat thirty feet away. Leaning back in his chair, Simon looked across the courtroom at the defense table. The enemy's enormous, beer-bellied attorney, Delroy Swope, blocked the view...all three hundred ice-cream-suited pounds of him. As Simon watched, the enemy himself leaned back and met his gaze. With his curly black hair, ruddy, pockmarked face, and wild eyes, he looked like a crazed pirate or a member of the Manson family. His glare caught Simon like hot metal catching skin, radiating waves of pure cherry-red fury. He silently mouthed two unmistakable words in Simon's direction: f**k you. Ladies and gentlemen, the one and only Horne Shaw, so-called claims adjustor for the 5G5 delivery company. Just then, Judge Jonah Bartlebaugh's voice snapped Simon's attention back to the front of the courtroom. "Oh, this is good." He chuckled as he stroked his impeccably trimmed silver mustache and beard with his thumb and forefinger. "How can you not love this case?" Swope waved his thick arms and shook his head. "First of all, it's pure defamation, Your Honor..." "The question was rhetorical." Judge Bartlebaugh chuckled. "But hey, great reaction time!" Without another word, Swope dropped into his chair. "Mr. Fluff-and-Fold!" Suddenly, Judge Bartlebaugh swung his gaze back to Simon. "This started over a washing machine, right?" "Yes, Your Honor," said Simon. "So what if Strayer-Roland gives you a new washing machine?" said Judge Bartlebaugh. "Could we make this case go away?" "No, Your Honor." Simon said it without hesitation. "There's a principle involved." "Oh, good." Judge Bartlebaugh rubbed his hands together briskly. "And what principle is that?" "People should have the right to know when they're dealing with someone like him." Simon hiked a thumb in Horne's direction. "They shouldn't have to find out the hard way, after the fact." "'Caveat emptor,' Your Honor." Swope wobbled to his feet. "'Let the buyer beware.' That's what we say." Judge Bartlebaugh rolled his eyes. "I never would have guessed." "Motion to dismiss this frivolous lawsuit, Your Honor," said Swope. "Is it frivolous?" Judge Bartlebaugh raised his eyebrows at Simon. "You don't want a new washing machine. You don't want money. You don't want any form of compensation for the damages you've suffered." "Correct, Your Honor," said Simon. Judge Bartlebaugh grinned and shook his head. "You just want the court to acknowledge officially that the defendant, Horne Shaw..." "...is a dick." Simon nodded. "Yes, Your Honor."