Page 111 of In the Shadows
"Is that an argument or a conspiracy theory?" Sarah interrupted.
"Counsel." Judge Morrison's voice was flat. "Let him finish."
Price inclined his head. "Thank you, Your Honor. My point is simply this: the circumstances surrounding this footage are suspicious at best. If there is any doubt—any doubt at all—about whether constitutional protections were violated, the footage must be suppressed. That is the standard. That is the law."
Sarah didn't sit down. "Your Honor, may I respond?"
Morrison gestured for her to continue.
"Mr. Price would like this court to believe that anyone with a professional background is automatically a government agent. By that logic, every retired police officer, every former military member, every private investigator in the country is constitutionally barred from reporting crimes they witness." She moved to the center of the well. "Mr. Rourke provided a sworn affidavit detailing exactly how and why he conducted this surveillance. He was concerned about the safety of a Blossom Springs resident—Ms. Lila Bennett, who is present in this courtroom—and he took steps to document threats against her. When those threats proved to be connected to a larger criminal enterprise, he turned his findings over to the FBI. Voluntarily. Without subpoena, without coercion, without any promise of compensation or immunity."
She turned to face Price directly. "The defense has presented no evidence of government involvement. No contracts, no communications, no payments. They have presented speculation and innuendo dressed up as a constitutional argument. That is not sufficient grounds to suppress evidence of multiple felonies, including conspiracy to commit murder."
The courtroom was silent.
Judge Morrison leaned back in his chair and studied both attorneys for a long moment. Warren Caldwell hadn't moved throughout the entire exchange—just sat with his hands folded, his face blank.
"I've heard enough," Morrison said.
Lila's fingernails dug into her palms.
"Mr. Price, your argument is creative, but it doesn't hold water. The surveillance in question was conducted by a private citizen, not a government agent. The footage was provided to law enforcement voluntarily, without coercion or compensation. There is no Fourth Amendment issue here." Morrison's voice hardened. "And frankly, I'm surprised you wasted the court's time with this motion."
Price's expression didn't change, but something in his posture tightened.
"The motion to suppress is denied. The surveillance footage will be admitted as evidence." Morrison looked at both tables. "We're still on schedule for the trial to begin Monday. I expect both parties to be prepared. Court is adjourned."
The bang of the gavel echoed through the room.
Lila didn't move. The words were still processing, still working their way through the fog of anxiety that had wrapped around her brain.
Denied. The motion was denied.
Ronan's hand found hers.
Across the room, Warren Caldwell was conferring with his attorneys. As if he sensed her gaze, he looked up.
Their eyes met.
His expression didn't change. No anger, no fear, no recognition of what he'd done or who he'd hurt. Just that same empty composure, as if he were looking at a stranger.
Lila held his gaze. Didn't look away. Didn't flinch.
After a long moment, Warren turned back to his attorneys.
She had expected to feel triumph. Vindication. Instead, there was just a cold, settled certainty. This man had murdered her father. Had covered it up for five years. Had smiled at her across town council meetings and community events, had offered her a seat on the council, had pretended to be her family's friend.
And now he was going to pay for it.
Sarah caught them in the hallway outside the courtroom.
"Trial starts Monday. You're scheduled to testify on Wednesday, assuming the prosecution's timeline holds. I'll need you in Tampa on Tuesday for final prep."
"I'll be there."
"Good." Sarah's professional mask slipped for a moment. "This was the hard part, Lila. The uncertainty. From here, it's just about telling the truth."
"Just."
