Ulisses did not raise his voice. He did not even change his expression. “Mr. Sinclair, less than thirty minutes ago, on this very record, you stated without reservation that Exhibit A is authentic. Would you like to amend that statement now or after the State Bar reviews this transcript?” Sinclair opened his mouth. “I—my office relied on documents provided by the client.”
“That is not what you stated for the record, sir.”
Ulisses paused just a beat. The way he had practiced. “The record reflects an unequivocal certification. Do you wish the court reporter to read it back?”
Sinclair did not answer. His hand drifted to where his gold cufflink should have been. The cufflink was no longer there. It had been on the floor for the last 40 minutes beneath his table and no one had picked it up.
He sat down. Ulisses did not let him breathe. “Defense Exhibit Three, a sworn affidavit from Margaret Whitfield, attorney of record for Mrs. Daniels, prior to her withdrawal. The affidavit details on penalty of perjury, the campaign of pressure exerted upon her firm by Hollister Heritage Holdings, including emails dated and authenticated that reference the very document we are now discussing. The very document, Your Honor, that has just been demonstrated to be impossible.” He laid the affidavit on the bench. Sinclair stood up to object.
His voice came out wrong. The first word cracked. “Your Honor, I—” He could not find the second word. A bead of sweat ran from his temple down to the collar of his white shirt and bloomed into a dark spot.
He looked down at his briefing book. He turned a page that meant nothing. He turned another. His lips moved without sound.
Behind him, his two associates, without making eye contact with their senior partner, quietly closed their own briefcases. One of them slipped out a phone and began typing under the table. He was texting the firm. Sinclair lowered himself back into his chair.