“The Velvet Hammer” Blog

Pack up. Haul bags to car so can return directly to Seattle after trial. It’s beautiful. Cold. A whisper of ice on the windows. Turn on the defroster. The ice disappears without needing a scrape. We start 15 minutes early.

Before beginning Judge Knodel asks if there’s anything to discuss. Asks about JHB’s health. Apologizes to me for never asking about mine. Chuckle and tell him I’m fine. The judge quotes a line. I can tell right away where it’s from. JHB says: what. And is frowning. What did you say about evil. Judge repeats the quote as JHB’s scowl grows. Judge says: it is a line from scripture. He meant it in a light hearted fashion to address I believe things like poor health. JHB looks exasperated. Judge K deflates.

It’s the end of the day. Driving back to the hotel. On the phone with best friend Shellie. Trying to explain what trial is like. And the only word that does it justice is – war. It is war Shellie. In all my years of trying cases, I have never been in a trial like this. Where the defense attorney and I literally detest each other. And it is all playing out in front of the jury. Because the judge is not restraining us at all. JHB is a bully of the highest order. And many years ago my mother taught me what to do about bullies.

Rain fell last night. The sun has risen. Look through the window over the top of Fatburger. It is a sparkling cool but beautiful blue day in George, Washington.

Today am wearing a flouncy flowered skirt topped with a beige jacket. Hair ruthlessly clipped back. When I was in college one of my favorite tv characters was Veronica Hamel who played an attorney in The Hill Street Blues. I don’t know if there had been a female attorney before on tv – but she was iconic. She had black longer hair which was not stick straight and she wore it clipped back simply. When I pull my hair back it’s like channeling her.

We had trial day 5 on Friday – a day when we should have been able to work on other cases or prep for trial. From 9 to 3:45. Furhad stayed with JHB in Grant County but I had driven home. At least trial for me mercifully was via Webex in the comfort of lululemon with nala at my side. It was nothing but aggravating and did not deserve its own trial diary entry with one notable exception.

In this era of being respectful of other people’s pronouns, the court, JHB and Furhad all decided to not be able to know how to address me.

The ironing board is out. First time have used one for anything but dinner napkins in decades. Have no choice. The black jumpsuit am going to wear is super wrinkled. Turn it inside out and press. Not perfect but it will do. Throw on with white jacket. Add puffy coat. Walk out the hotel door and get hit with a blast of frigid wind that about turns my hair straight.

Grant County has a beautiful old courthouse façade set back on a majestic green lawn. But it is not where superior court is. No. If you enter via those pretty portals you have a winding path to follow. First you have to walk to the end of the hall. Down the stairs. Go outside. Across a cement patio. To a separate soulless block of a building with no windows. That is where we are trying cases. And so I enter through that ugly back entrance properly today.