Justice Hunter Read Free

irreparable harm does not persist unchecked.” Hunter’s passion and conviction were undeniable.
    Beetle-browed, Russo proceeded to disregard the evidence out of hand and eviscerate the artfully drafted non-compete, a product of Whitman’s transactional department. “To say that document is draconian would be an understatement.”
    And that is pretty much how the entire hearing went. Hunter and Zane battled, trading barbs and litigation blows during the other examinations. Hunter strategically pumped up the defendant’s ego, cleverly ingratiating himself. He wanted him to feel at ease, knowing that that might get him to talk. And ultimately the slickster broke when he began to act invincible. Hunter figured it was that same cavalier attitude that had gotten him into hot water in the first place. The defendant had actually managed to convince himself that he was smarter than the rest of the world. And Zane’s redirect was not nearly enough to rehabilitate her client. The damage was too significant, thanks in large part to Hunter’s getting under his skin.
    Overall, Hunter’s witness, in spite of his distracting nicotine leg twitch and gruff cadence, did a competent job. Their preparation had paid off, and he pretty much stuck to the script—except for the impromptu and off-color barbs he slung in Zane’s direction. He just couldn’t help himself.
    “Calm your jets, hon,” he said chauvinistically, knocking the wind out of her sails the instant he sensed her momentum building. “No need to get your panties in a twist,” he added, flashing a slimy smile, a gold cap glittering somewhere in a mouthful of stained, crooked teeth. Nice touch, thought Hunter.
    Zane’s feminist impulses nearly got the better of her, exactly what he was going for. Yet Zane maintained her composure, only channeling the rage into tougher lines of questioning.
    “But isn’t it true, Mr. Chablis, that my client originated these accounts in controversy?”
    The witness pretended not to hear. He continued to chuckle to himself as she approached the stand.
    “Is something funny, Mr. Chablis?”
    “No. Of course not. I’m taking your desperate questions quite seriously.”
    “Mr. Chablis,” she scolded. “I know this may be a big game to you, but I can assure you that we take these unfounded allegations quite seriously as well.”
    That last jab sobered him up a bit, the corners of his mouth wilting.
    “So I will ask you again.” Her tone was impatient, hostile. “Did my client or did my client not originate those accounts?”
    “Objection,” interjected Hunter, getting to his feet. “This is clearly badgering.”
    “Overruled!”
    “That means you can answer the question now, Mr. Chablis,” she said smugly. The witness looked dejected, his plan to evade it abruptly cut short.
    No response. An admission , thought Hunter. Shit!
    “A simple yes or no will suffice.”
    “Can I explain our policy at Mediacast?”
    “No, you may not!”
    By now the judge was leaning forward, awaiting the answer with bated breath.
    “I’m the only one who gets to ask the questions now!” She looked over at Hunter, the end of the whip catching him on the recoil. “ Your attorney already had his opportunity to ask questions,” she added, implying that Hunter had erred during his case in chief.
    Russo got in on the action, apparently having the urge to feel needed. “Answer the question, Mr. Chablis,” he warned.
    “Not in my opinion, counselor,” he stated indignantly.
    “Then it’s a no?”
    “If that’s what you want to call it.”
    “And you’re positively sure about that?”
    “Sure am.”
    “And you stand behind that testimony?”
    Chablis nodded.
    “And you were sworn in this morning?” she said. “And you vowed, under oath, to tell this court the truth?”
    “I did.”
    Hunter cringed as his adversary swooped in for the kill.
    “Have you ever seen this document?”
    Here comes the smoking gun , thought Hunter, bracing