Baton Smith: A Fictional Narrative

Shaking his head, he looked back at the mirror to give himself a final once-over. Focus was key today, and he could not allow his memories to distract him. Today was all about the families that had been wronged by Baton Smith. Arthur had given his all to this case for more than a year, sacrificed and lost sleep. It was time to see justice served.

He grabbed his laptop bag and headed for the front door. On the entryway table sat a travel mug and a couple of homemade banana peanut butter oat muffins wrapped in plastic. There was a note next to the on-the-go breakfast that read: Best of luck today, Arthur. You’ve got this.

Smiling, Arthur grabbed the food. Tristan was a great guy, and Arthur had the support of his friends. Regardless of the
outcome of this case, he’d be all right. And that was the first time that notion had popped into his head in many months.

XXXX

After two years of arguing court cases, day one of any trial still seemed surreal.
Arthur had been born and bred to be a lawyer, but he still felt privileged when he took his seat at the head of the plaintiff’s table in the courtroom.

To his left sat Elena, poised and prepared, dressed in a navy power suit, with her hair swept up into a neat and professional
twist.

“Thanks for that muffin before.” Elena took a quick sip of water. “It was delicious. Your roommate needs to sell those things. I’d buy a hundred.”

“He’s a great guy with lots of hidden talents.”

The small talk eased Arthur’s nerves. He wasn’t one to lose his cool before trials, like some of his colleagues—who spent the nights before trials heaving in the bathroom—but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t on edge. Before he allowed his jitters to kick in, he reflected on all the ways he and his team had prepared. They’d done their due diligence and then some when it came to jury research, selection, and the pre-trial conference. They’d chosen and prepared their expert medical witness, who seemed as if she could withstand even the most brutal cross-examination from the defense.

The whistleblower, a young biomedical engineer who had exposed the emails demonstrating the unreliability of Baton Smith’s portable vital sign device, was a little less sturdy.
Daegal answered the questions well enough, but when pushed during the cross-examination prep, he started to sweat and squirm. His eyes would dart around the room, and even though the kid had done nothing wrong, he looked guilty. Arthur hoped that to the jury, Daegel would like a young man who was eager to do the right thing, but was simply nervous about being in the spotlight.

Arthur glanced up as the jury members took their seats. Next, the plaintiffs associated with the lawsuit filed into the galley, followed by onlookers, which meant Judge Valdis would enter at any moment. She was fair, but firm and kept strict order in her courtroom, which Arthur appreciated. She did not tolerate showboating or grandstanding.

Arthur’s father would not be present. Uther had handed over the reins of this case to Arthur and walked away, preferring to focus instead on drumming up more business and concentrating on Uther Pendragon and Associates’ balance sheet. Arthur had seen the balance sheet. The firm was as far into the black as one could hope, but if Uther’s endeavors kept him out of Arthur’s way, that was fine by Arthur. His father hadn’t even bothered to wish him well this
morning.

“All rise. The Honorable J. Valdis presiding.”

Everyone stood. Judge Valdis’s swept in, elderly and diminutive in stature, though her sharp gaze scanned the courtroom as she reached the bench. “You may be seated.”

As Judge Valdis announced the docket number and details of the case, Arthur looked over his shoulder and gave the plaintiff families a comforting nod. Twenty-eight children had died, which meant roughly seventy-five of their family members sat in the courtroom. No one looked pleased to be there, but some of the parents appeared particularly aggrieved, tears filling their eyes already. Arthur had calmly begged them to leave the court room if they felt an outburst coming on, and he hoped they’d heed them. He realized he was asking them to do the impossible, remain calm in the presence of those responsible for the deaths of their children, but mayhem in the courtroom was never beneficial to a case.

Judge Valdis asked for the parties to identify their appearances for the record, and after that, she sternly provided instructions to the jury about their obligations. Once done, she faced Arthur.

“Now that we have all that covered, Mr. Pendragon, I’ll hear your opening statement.”

Elena gave him a discreet thumbs-up under the table as he rose and buttoned his suit jacket.