Judgment

46

Juliana called both sides into her courtroom for the emergency hearing. Rachel Meyers was seated in the second row, wearing a green suit over a white blouse. Unusual for the client to come to motions, but it was her right. Her face was tight, and she looked exhausted. There were purple circles under her eyes. The poor woman. The trial hadn’t even begun.

“All right,” Juliana said, “I’ve had the chance to read the papers. Plaintiff, what’s the issue here?”

She knew what they wanted, of course. Glenda Craft, Rachel’s lawyer, had filed a motion for a protective order. They wanted this set of personal texts to be declared confidential, so they couldn’t be released to the public, couldn’t be used in any other case. But she wanted the argument on the record.

Craft stood up. “We just received supplemental discovery material that contains highly personal and private e-mail exchanges between my client and a couple of male friends of hers. Some of them were messages exchanged on the dating app Tinder. And we are concerned about what the defense is planning to do with them.”

“Which is what?” she said.

“This is a deliberate move to pressure my client into settling.”

“Your Honor—” said Madden.

But Juliana cut him off. “All right. I have your motion to protect.”

“Yes, we—”

“Okay, I’ll hear from the defense.”

Harlan Madden stood up, cleared his throat. He spoke in a bland, guarded tone. “Yes, uh, in response to the discovery request made by the plaintiff, we engaged the services of a computer forensics specialist to recover all deleted files on a laptop used by the plaintiff while working for the Wheelz Corporation. We have provided the plaintiff with those recovered files, as requested.”

“Hold on, Mr. Madden,” Juliana said. “I have looked at the discovery materials, and I saw sexually explicit text messages and nude photos, and I have to say, it made me wonder what you’re planning on doing with all that.”

Madden gave her an even look. “We’re simply complying with the plaintiff’s discovery request.”

Juliana thought: Oh, please. She said, “I recall you were extremely concerned about confidentiality when it came to any past legal settlements of sexual harassment cases.”

“Yes, Your Honor, but these aren’t business records. Also, the plaintiff clearly wasn’t so concerned about keeping her correspondence confidential, because she used a laptop that is the property of the Wheelz Corporation. She should have been under no illusions that what she put on this laptop would remain private to her.”

“So what are you planning to do with these documents?”

“We have no plans to do anything with them.”

“Judge, this is a brazen threat that the defense is holding over my client’s head to compel her to settle and not go to trial. Frankly, they’re trying to embarrass her. We want all of these personal text messages and photographs to be designated as confidential.”

“All right,” Juliana said. She saw no reason to postpone a decision. She didn’t need to take a week to think about it. This was easy. “I am granting the plaintiff’s motion for a protective order. I hereby order the defense not to use or disclose any of these documents and materials produced by the defendant, which are Bates labeled 5539 to 5884, to any parties outside this litigation. I can’t imagine this is a problem for you, is it, Mr. Madden?”

“No, Your Honor,” he replied meekly.

“And one more thing. If any of these private text messages see the light of day, I’m going to hold you and your client accountable for the violation of her privacy. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” he said.

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at it. “Let’s take a recess,” she said.

When she emerged from the courtroom, she saw another WhatsApp text on her phone. She opened it. From Sasha again: Call me.

She tapped on the phone icon on the top right of her screen, then tapped Voice call. They were on an encrypted line now.

He picked right up. “Where is your office? I come over now,” he said.

“No.” She didn’t want to be seen with him, a hacker, someone sketchy and marginal, at the Suffolk County Courthouse. “I’ll come to you.”

“Call and text only on the WhatsApp,” he said. “Or Signal. Only.”

“Okay, but why?”

“Because we are dealing with some kinda bad guys. Some scary players.”

Her throat felt tight. She swallowed. “Scary how?”

“You’ll see what I’m talking about.”

“What do you mean, you think someone’s... bugging my phone?”

“At this level anything is possible.”

Hersh had told her that her iPhone was probably secure. Maybe Sasha knew more.

“This level...?”

“Um, do you have my payment?”

“I do.”

“Cash, yes?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not that I distrust you... Judge.”

Judge. So much for the Rosalind ruse. “You know who I am,” she said. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Rosalind Brody, formerly Winter, born in Billerica, Mass. The Social Security Administration says she died some years ago. And that she has one living descendant, a judge.”

“Well done,” she said, and she said good-bye and hung up.

Then her phone made a curious little electronic bleat, and a text came up in a different window. The text contained only a link, which she clicked on. She had to trust him; she had no choice.

The link took her to a Gmail home page that looked like her own. There was an inbox that showed a long stack of e-mails, one column showing the name of the sender, next to a subject line. All very familiar. But she didn’t recognize the names of the senders.

She was looking at Noah Miller’s inbox.