to consider court-appointed counsel if he qualified. Byron listened carefully but decided to speak for himself at the initial hearing after the judge explained the consequences of that choice. The decision was his, not a performance of fearlessness. He was prepared to ask for assistance if the case moved toward trial.
Nora spent the weekend organizing evidence. She printed a timeline of every harassment incident, created a list of original recordings with dates, and prepared the device that had captured the live event. She was careful not to alter the source file while making copies for review. Priscilla's questions had taught her how important exact wording could be. She did not need to prove Byron was a flawless person; she needed the court to see whether he had been forced into a confrontation and whether he had responded reasonably.
The night before the hearing, Byron struggled to sleep. He ironed the only suit he owned, charcoal gray and slightly broad in the shoulders, and laid it across the sofa. Miriam had helped choose it for a family wedding long ago, teasing him that he looked like a man who had been promoted to a desk he would never enjoy. He smiled at the memory and then found himself crying unexpectedly. He was not grieving the court date alone. He was grieving the fact that he could no longer ask her to tell him whether he looked presentable.
Hank called and offered to pick him up. Byron said he would meet him there. They argued briefly, gently, in the familiar rhythm of old friends, until Hank agreed to respect that choice. When he hung up, Byron opened the wooden box and looked at the photograph one more time. He reminded himself that the people in it had known him when he was young and frightened and had trusted him anyway. He wanted to carry that memory into a room where strangers had been invited to fear him.
Courtroom 4B in Mecklenburg County was smaller than the television studios discussing the case but more intimidating in quieter ways. Fluorescent lights hummed above rows of worn wooden benches. Attorneys whispered over files, clerks moved documents, and a deputy directed visitors toward the appropriate seats. Byron entered alone and chose a chair near the front. He wore polished shoes and the pressed charcoal suit, carrying no briefcase. He had brought his identification, his copy of the summons, and a folded list of the facts he did not want to forget.