Jesus Christ. Okay, I will be there. Do not tip him off. Let us see how he handles himself when he figures it out. Already planned on it, Reyes said.
We need his reaction on record. Consciousness of guilt. Grant hung up, grabbed his jacket, told his secretary to clear his morning. Emergency. He headed to the courthouse.
Courthouse main entrance. Baxter arrived, parked in the public lot, walked through security, metal detector, badge and gun left in his vehicle. Court protocol. He saw other officers in the hallway, colleagues there for other cases, other hearings. They nodded, wished him luck.
He was not worried. He had a strong defense. He had followed training. The kid in his case had been resisting everything by the book. Patterson arrived minutes later, saw Baxter waiting on the bench outside courtroom 3.
Walked over, briefcase in hand, face carefully neutral. Grant, he said. The bailiff opened the courtroom doors. All rise, the honorable judge Kendra Ellis presiding. Baxter walked through the doors, still talking to Patterson, looking down at his notes, not paying attention.
The side door opened. The judge's entrance. Three steps up to the bench. Baxter looked up. Time stopped.
Recognition hit. Not slowly like a freight train derailing at full speed. Baxter's eyes widened, blinked, widened again. His brain refused to accept what he was seeing. The color drained from his face.
Not pale ash and gray. His lips parted. No sound came out. his throat closed. The briefcase slipped from his fingers and hit the floor loud. The thud echoed through the courtroom.
Every head turned, his knees unlocked. Liquid joints, gravity pulled wrong. He swayed forward. His right hand shot out, slammed onto the defense table, gripping the edge. Knuckles white, holding on like a drowning man.
His left hand clutched his chest. Shirt fabric bunched in his fist. He could not breathe. shallow rapid gasps. Cold sweat broke across his forehead. Patterson grabbed his elbow hard, steadying him physically.
"Sit down, " Patterson hissed. "Now Baxter collapsed into the chair, not sitting, collapsing. " The chair scraped loud against the floor. Everyone was watching now. Everyone was seeing him fall apart. The bailiff stepped forward.
Older man, experienced, had seen everything. Sir, are you all right? Do you need medical attention? We can call EMT. Baxter shook his head violently.
He could not form words. His hand still gripped the table. The room was still spinning. Kendra settled into her chair, took her time, arranged papers on the bench, straightened her name plate, adjusted her water glass. Every movement was deliberate, controlled.
She did not look at him yet. power move, making him wait, making him suffer. The gallery whispered, low murmur spreading like wildfire. What is wrong with that cop? Why does he look like that? Is he sick?
In the back row, Captain Derek Grant sat with his phone out recording. Reyes beside him, also recording, both documenting this moment, this reaction, evidence for the internal affairs file. Kendra finally looked up, her eyes locked on Baxter. Three full seconds, unblinking, cold. He could not hold her gaze.
He looked down. Papers on the table blurred. His hands trembled, visible. "Counsel, " Kendra said, her voice glacial, formal. "Does your client require medical assistance?
We can recess if needed. " Patterson stood, one hand still on Baxter's shoulder, literally holding him in the chair. "No, your honor, we are ready to proceed. " "Lie! Complete lie, but tactical. Better than admitting his client was having a breakdown. " "Good morning, " Kendra said to the full courtroom official tone. "Case number two, 024 CR842, State of Georgia versus Grant Baxter.
Excessive force allegations stemming from an incident involving Jaylen Thompson. Before we begin, I need to make a disclosure to the court. The word disclosure hit Baxter like a second punch, his head snapped up. Fresh wave of panic crossed his face, color draining again. Assistant D.
A. Brooke Larson stood young, prepared, unaware of the context. Ready, your honor? I said I need to make a disclosure first. Counselor Kendra's voice cut sharp.
Please be seated. Brook sat confused. Everyone was confused except Baxter and Patterson and Grant and Reyes. They knew what was coming. Complete silence.
Pin-drop quiet. Every eye on Kendra. Baxter's breathing was ragged, audible, almost wheezing. Patterson leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Whatever happens next, do not speak. Do you understand me? " Not one word.
Baxter could not respond. He could only nod barely. Kendra's hands rested flat on the bench, steady, no tremor, complete control. The courtroom waited, breath held, waiting for the bomb to drop. And Kendra took her time because she had earned this moment.
Paid for it in handcuffs and humiliation. and a night in a holding cell. Now she owned it. Every second, every eye, every outcome. She looked at Baxter one more time, saw him falling apart, saw the realization destroying him from the inside. Good, she thought.
Let him feel it. Let him understand what he did, what he was about to lose. Then she began. Last night I was stopped by Officer Grant Baxter on Interstate 85 at mile marker 52. I was subsequently arrested on suspicion of operating a stolen vehicle and false impersonation of a public official.
I was held in custody until this morning and released without charges filed. The courtroom erupted, gasps, whispers, shock rippling through every row. Brooke Larson's mouth dropped open, literally. She turned to look at Baxter, then back at Kendra, connecting dots, calculating implications. Patterson closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
He knew it was bad. He had not known it was this bad. Baxter stared at the table. He could not look up. He could not move.
Frozen, Kendra continued, voice steady, professional, no emotion bleeding through. Georgia Code of Judicial Conduct Canon 3 requires disclosure of any interaction between a presiding judge and parties appearing before the court that might create an appearance of bias or conflict of interest. I have now made this disclosure fully and completely. Pause. Let it sink in.
Let everyone process. I am not recusing myself from this case. Patterson stood immediately. Required. Had to object. had to try.
Your honor, with all respect, this creates an unavoidable appearance of impropriety. The defendant arrested you hours before trial. This court must recognize, counselor, Kendra cut him off, firm but controlled. Your client arrested me unlawfully based on racial profiling and explicit violation of procedure. If anything, I am predisposed to be more scrupulously fair to ensure this proceeding is unimpeachable on appeal.