Agent Carter. Was Agent Carter authorized to place recording devices in a private hotel room? Chen faltered. The circumstances. Did she have a warrant?
Harland's voice sharpened. Given the imminent threat and ongoing criminal conspiracy. Yes or no, counselor. Chen straightened. No, your honor.
But under federal statute 18USC 2511, recording is permitted when I'm familiar with the statute. Harland's tone grew cold. I'm also familiar with the Fourth Amendment. This recording was obtained illegally without proper authorization or judicial oversight. Carla shot to her feet.
Your honor, the evidence of corruption is clear. The bank records alone were discovered as a direct result of the illegal recording. Harlon cut her off. Fruit of the poisonous tree. Counselor, you know better.
The gallery erupted in angry murmurs. Outside the protesters chants grew louder. Your honor, Chen tried again, given the serious nature of these allegations. The serious nature makes proper procedure more important, not less. Harland's gavel cracked like a gunshot.
This recording is inadmissible. All evidence derived from it is similarly tainted. Naomi felt the room spin. This couldn't be happening. Not after everything.
Furthermore, Harlon continued, "I'm ordering an internal investigation into Agent Carter's unauthorized surveillance activities." Carla's hand gripped Naomi's arm. Your honor, Agent Carter was protecting herself and her child from from what exactly? Harland's eyes were ice. All I see is a federal agent conducting illegal wire taps based on unsubstantiated suspicions. This case is dismissed.
The gavel fell again. Protesters outside screamed in rage. Naomi sat frozen, staring at the man she'd once respected. The judge she'd testified before dozens of times, whose reputation for fairness seemed unshakable. Now he wouldn't even meet her eyes.
Movement caught her attention. Witford stood slowly, straightening his expensive suit. His lips curved in a small, knowing smirk as he glanced at Harlon, then at Naomi. In that moment, she understood. The rot went deeper than she'd imagined.
Harlon wasn't just following the law. He was part of their corrupt network. Every case he'd dismissed, every piece of evidence he'd suppressed. How long had he been protecting them? The protesters chants echoed through the courthouse walls.
No justice, no peace. But there would be no justice today. Not in this court, not with this judge. Naomi met Witford's smug gaze, her hands clenched tight enough to leave marks. All her evidence, all her work, swept away with a few words from a corrupt judge.
The system she'd trusted, the law she'd sworn to uphold. It was all tainted. Harland swept out of the courtroom, robes billowing. Witford's smirk widened as he collected his briefcase. Victory written in every casual movement.
Naomi could only stare, the weight of betrayal pressing down like a physical force. The judge she'd trusted had just revealed his true colors, and the price of that revelation might be her entire case. Naomi's key scraped in the lock just past 9. The house was warm, filled with the aroma of Daniel's cooking, his way of showing love when words weren't enough. She dropped her bag by the door, her movements heavy with defeat.
"In here,"Daniel called from the kitchen. "I made your mom's lasagna recipe." Naomi found him at the stove, sleeves rolled up. Elijah bouncing happily in his high chair. "Their son's laughter, usually a balm for any pain, only reminded her of how much she had to protect. "You didn't have to cook,"she said, kissing Daniel's cheek.
It's been a long day for you, too. That's exactly why I needed to cook. He stirred the sauce, adding more oregano. Takes my mind off things. Besides, someone was very insistent about helping.
He nodded toward Elijah, who had somehow gotten tomato sauce on his nose despite being nowhere near the stove. Naomi managed a weak smile, reaching over to wipe their son's face. Elijah grabbed her finger, his tiny grip strong and trusting. The bandage on his cheek was smaller now, the scratch healing, but the sight of it still made her stomach clench. "Want to talk about it?" Daniel asked quietly.
"Not yet,"Naomi sank into a kitchen chair. "Just need to process the judge. I trusted him, Daniel. I testified in his court dozens of times. And now here.
Daniel set a glass of wine in front of her. Food first, strategy later. They ate slowly trying to maintain a sense of normalcy. Daniel talked about his students history projects, about the community garden he was planning for the school. Elijah babbled and played with his food, occasional giggles piercing the heavy atmosphere.
"Look at him,"Daniel said softly. He has no idea the world's not perfect. I want to keep it that way, Naomi whispered. But after today, I don't know if I can protect him from any of this. Hey.
Daniel reached across the table, squeezing her hand. You're not alone in this. We protect him together. After dinner, they settled into their evening routine. Daniel gave Elijah his bath while Naomi cleaned up.
The mundane tasks helping to quiet her racing thoughts. She could hear splashing and Daniel's playful voice. No, buddy. The rubber duck stays in the tub. By 10, Elijah was asleep in his crib, tiny chest rising and falling peacefully.
Naomi stood watching him, memorizing every detail of his face. Daniel wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. Come to bed,"he murmured. "You need rest." The crash downstairs shattered the quiet. Naomi's FBI training kicked in instantly.
"Get Elijah!"she hissed, already moving. She grabbed her backup weapon from the bedroom safe as heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs. Daniel scooped up their son, who started crying at the sudden movement. Naomi positioned herself in the hallway, gun raised. Federal agent, stop where you are.
Two shadows appeared at the top of the stairs. The first lunged at her with something metallic, a pipe or crowbar. Naomi fired a warning shot into the ceiling, but the intruder kept coming. She dropped and swept his legs, sending him crashing into the wall. The second attacker tried to circle around her.
Daniel shouted from Elijah's room, "Stay back!" Naomi drove her elbow into the first man's solar plexus, then spun to face the second. He was bigger, wearing dark clothes and a ski mask. He swung at her head. She ducked, ramming her shoulder into his stomach. They crashed into the hallway table.
Photos shattered. The first attacker was getting up. Naomi kicked his knee, heard something crack. He screamed. The second man broke free and ran not toward the stairs, but toward Elijah's room.
No. Naomi's scream was primal. She fired again, grazing his shoulder. He stumbled, but kept going. Daniel appeared in the doorway, still holding Elijah.
He swung the solid oak changing table at the intruder's head. It connected with a sickening crack. The man dropped. Sirens wailed in the distance. The first attacker dragged himself to the stairs, leaving a trail of blood from his knee.
Naomi kept her gun trained on him as he half fell down the steps. Daniel. Her voice shook. Elijah, we're okay. Daniel's voice was steady, but she could hear his rapid breathing.
We're okay, baby. Look at Mama. Elijah. See? Mama's here.
Naomi turned to check on them and froze. Elijah's crib was overturned, the mattress spilling onto the floor. A hunting knife stuck out of the wooden frame, embedded deep where her son's head had been minutes before. A note was pinned beneath it, the paper stark white against the dark wood. Last warning.
The second attacker groaned, starting to stir. Naomi kicked his gun away and cuffed him with her backup set. Her hands were steady, but fury burned through her veins like acid. Red and blue lights flooded the street. Car doors slammed.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs as local police responded to the shots fired. Naomi barely heard their questions. She stood in Elijah's room, staring at the knife while crime scene texts photographed everything. Daniel sat in the rocking chair, their son finally asleep against his chest. They'd come into her home.