Some evidence contradicted Minerva more directly than anything I might have said. There was her message to Landon about moving into a place together, forwarded to me after he claimed I was withholding property. There was Billie's signed collection receipt. There was the police incident report describing Minerva's statement that she was voluntarily moving out. There were receipts for the television, couch, and espresso machine. And there was a message Minerva sent to a friend the day after leaving, posted publicly, thanking Landon for supporting her through her "fresh start."
The preliminary court conference took place several weeks later, not a week after the complaint was filed. I had imagined a courtroom where a judge read everything and immediately announced that Minerva was wrong. Real court was less entertaining. There were procedural questions, filing deadlines, discussions about what evidence each side needed, and a long period when people quietly reviewed documents instead of delivering dramatic speeches.
Minerva arrived in a beige suit and sat across the aisle from me. She had counsel for the hearing, a young attorney who looked organized and tired rather than incompetent. I did not know whether he believed her account or was simply doing his job, and I reminded myself that everyone deserved representation even when I disagreed with them. She saw me and looked away with exaggerated determination. I looked at the front of the room and tried to breathe normally.
The judge asked whether either side was seeking emergency relief about entry to the house or personal belongings. Minerva's attorney argued that she had occupied the property for months and had been pressured to leave under the threat of police action. Clara responded that the voluntary departure was documented and that the request for immediate reentry conflicted with Minerva's later arrangements to collect property, her statements about a new household, and the absence of evidence that she had attempted to resume occupancy before the dispute over the car.
The judge did not give a speech about infidelity. He didn't appear particularly interested in Landon's ring. He asked about the legal basis for occupancy, whether proper notice had been given, the circumstances of the departure, and whether any property remained disputed. He declined to order immediate reentry based on the record then available, while leaving the broader claims to proceed through evidence and motions. I walked out feeling less triumphant than I had imagined, and more relieved that somebody was treating the facts as facts.
On the courthouse steps, Minerva approached before her attorney could stop her. "You really think you can buy your way out of what you did?" she asked.
Clara moved beside me. "Please direct any communication through counsel," she said. "Patrick isn't discussing the case on the steps."
Minerva's eyes flashed toward the camera mounted above the entrance. She stepped back and folded her arms. "Fine. We'll see who the judge believes."
I didn't answer. We walked to the parking garage in silence. When we reached the car, Clara looked at me and said, "That was difficult for you. You did fine."