When the boyfriend spoke about how crushed he was that his girlfriend would do this to him, Kenna saw the tears trying to escape from the girlfriend who was shaking so hard now her teeth were chattering.
Judge Cooper turned in his chair to Kenna. "State's witness."
Kenna immediately straightened and turned aggressively toward the boyfriend. "Do you actually think anyone would believe your story? I move to introduce into evidence, the security footage from the Keeneston Road First Bank."
Caught off guard, Mr. Sleazebag couldn't come up with an objection fast enough and the security footage was played. It showed the couple walk up to the ATM and trying to withdraw money. The ATM was either broken or, more likely, there wasn't enough cash in the account. Instead of trying a different bank, the boyfriend grabbed his girlfriend by her arms and slammed her face into the ATM. He grabbed her hard enough around the arms to bruise. When she fell back from the ATM, he punched her in the face one more time before walking off and leaving her there.
"Does your client have anything more to add before I make my ruling?" Judge Cooper gestured to the video frozen on the huddled and bloody form of the girlfriend.
"Yes, your honor. We move for a recess to discuss a plea with Ms. Mason."
At the request, the boyfriend let out a scream and launched himself at his girlfriend. "You BITCH!" Before anyone had the opportunity to move, the prongs from a stun gun were implanted into the back of the flying boyfriend who was given a nice long jolt by Deputy Dinky. Everyone stared at the twitching mass lying on the ground and then with awe at the quick draw of Dinky.
"You need a new nickname," Kenna said to him as he leaned down to cuff the inert body. Dinky just smiled as some more deputies ran into the courtroom. "Your honor, the State has no intention of settling this matter with the respondent, and we ask the court to enter its judgment now."
Mr. Sleazebag’s complaints fell on deaf ears as his now drooling client was carted off to jail for five years while his girlfriend promised to go with Martha to give all the evidence necessary to put him away for even longer on the drug charges.
Kenna pushed through the docket efficiently and ruthlessly. Today there would be no plea bargains. She even moved for sanctions against those who falsely filed domestic abuse reports to improve their case in a custody or divorce matter. It was becoming all too common for a spouse to claim abuse during a divorce to obtain a better settlement from the other, in exchange for their dropping the abuse claim. These people made her so angry. She not only asked for sanctions but lectured them on the abuse of the system. Toward the end of the docket, those who thought her too weak to stand a break-up were scurrying out of the building as fast as they could.
Henry Rooney approached the bench and asked for a quick conference. "Well, I was hoping for some mercy for my client, but it seems today isn't the day to ask for it."
"Sorry, Henry, domestic abuse isn't a matter I will ever bargain on. Tell your client tough luck. If he did it, he'll go to jail."
"She. It's a she."
"Doesn't matter. If she did it, she's going to jail."
"You won't even hear my offer?"
"Nope. Not in domestic abuse cases. If there's something exceptional, it will come out during the hearing, and I'll move to reduce charges or sentencing."
Henry let out a breath. "Okay." Henry looked at the benches and shook his head at his client.
Kenna was already up to the podium calling the case. She heard Henry and the accused stop at the opposing podium. She skimmed the file and saw that the wife had attacked the husband with a frying pan that resulted in a 9-1-1 call and stitches to his head. Should be pretty cut and dry. She looked over her shoulder to motion the victim to stand closer and had a moment of “what the…” She was expecting a 20- to 40-year-old, not an octogenarian! His white hair was neatly trimmed and slicked back, showing the scar from the stitches. He was dressed in a suit that was probably older than she was but still clean and pressed. He had a slight stoop to his back yet seemed to be pretty spry. She waved him up and then turned to the frying-pan-wielding wife. She, too, looked to be in her eighties with tightly permed, gray hair. She wore a floral print dress and had a purse clutched between her hands. Kenna looked up at Judge Cooper who was also looking back and forth at the two parties. "Miss Mason, why don't you have Mr. Brownston tell us what happened."
Mr. Brownston looked up. "What?"
Kenna raised her voice and said to him, "Mr. Brownston, will you please tell us what happened the night of April 3rd?"
"No, ma'am, I will not." Kenna was about to ask her next question when she realized he hadn't answered.