Judge Whitmore found her voice. "Be that as it may, this court has standards."
"Double standards, you mean?" Maya's voice hardened. "When rich defendants bring in entire teams of lawyers, you don't question their qualifications. When corporations hire million-dollar firms, you don't ask for their diplomas. But when a janitor's daughter tries to defend her innocent father, suddenly you're concerned about credentials."
She pulled another document from her folder. "This is a motion for immediate disclosure of all evidence against my father. I'm invoking *Brady v. Maryland* and requesting access to the supposedly corrupted security footage, the key card logs, and any witness statements."
"You can't just—" Crawford started.
"I can, and I am. Unless you're hiding something."
The prosecutor's face went pale. Judge Whitmore looked like she'd swallowed something sour.
"Your Honor," Maya pressed on, "I'm also filing a motion for your recusal based on familial connection to the complainant, and a motion to dismiss based on prosecutorial misconduct. Mr. Crawford failed to disclose exculpatory evidence in his filing."
"What exculpatory evidence?" Crawford demanded.
Maya smiled for the first time. "The fact that three other key cards accessed that same room that night. The fact that the corrupted footage only affects certain cameras, not others. The fact that my father's key card was used in two different locations at the exact same time, which is physically impossible unless he cloned himself."
The courtroom erupted. Crawford was shouting objections. Brewster was trying to figure out what was happening. And Judge Whitmore was banging her gavel like she was trying to drive a nail through the bench.
"Order! Order!" She turned her fury on Maya. "How could you possibly know any of that?"
"Because unlike Mr. Brewster, I actually investigated. I talked to the security guards, the cleaning staff, the IT department. You know, basic detective work that any competent lawyer would do if they actually cared about their client."
She reached into her folder again. "I have sworn statements from three witnesses who saw other people in the building that night. I have timestamped photos from the parking garage showing cars that shouldn't have been there. I have evidence that someone with administrator access tampered with the key card system to frame my father."
"This is impossible," Crawford muttered.
"No," Maya replied. "What's impossible is expecting justice in a system where wealth determines worth, where connections matter more than truth, and where a 13-year-old has to do the job grown men are paid to do."