She blinked and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts.
“Right, right,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
I made eye contact with Vicki who smirked slightly and shook her head. I heard the scuffle on Onyx’s side die down and I assumed his lawyers said something similar.
I caught the eye of one of his lawyers, and we shared the briefest commiserate smile before our team moved into the courtroom. Jesus.
The walk up to the plaintiff’s box was tense but uneventful, and Onxy’s team wisely decided to take the other aisle toward the front of the room.
It was a small room, with rows of wooden chairs leading up to the front of the room, with dark wooden tables for both the plaintiff and the defendant. The judge’s bench up front had the Arizona state seal emblazoned in bronze overhead, and flagpoles on either side.
Vicki, Topaz and I took seats behind the defendant’s table. Vicki spoke in a hushed tone to the client who now looked sufficiently embarrassed of her previous behavior.
I pulled out my iPad and looked over the notes I had on this case. I didn’t have much, I had purposely steered clear of it for Vicki’s sake. But, I went over the basics of it anyway.
“All rise,” the bailiff’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “For the honorable Judge Preston presiding.”
We stood as the judge entered the room. Topaz stood between Vicki and me, her palms still centered on her abdomen. I calculated a back up plan if she got sick from anxiety during the trial.
Judge Preston was a no nonsense woman, with slick black and gray hair, wiry glasses and no smile.
“You may be seated,” she barked.
The wooden chairs scraped the floors as the parties all sat. I glanced over at Vicki who winked at me. She had this.
“Please state your appearances,” the judge ordered.
“Vicki Park and Henry Irving,” Vicki stood. “Representing Topaz Whitestone.”
She sat and Onyx’s lawyer stood. “John Markle and Phil Parker representing Onyx Thomspon.”
“Thank you,” Judge Preston states and then she read from a document, “This case is about Boho Design, a shop in downtown Sedona that sells handmade crafts and pottery. Is that correct?”
The judge looked down her nose at Topaz.
“Yes, your honor,” she squeaked out, and I noticed her fingers dig into her abdomen as if to quell the anxiety.
“And you,” Judge continued, “and your now ex-husband, were the co-owners of this shop. Is that correct?”
“That is correct, your honor,” Onyx answered boldly.
“So,” the judge set the papers down and glanced back and forth at the parties. “You are now divorced. And how long ago was that finalized?”
“The divorce was finalized a year ago,” Onyx answered. “Last September.”
“Last September,” the judge repeated.
Then she nodded toward Topaz, “You claim that he fraudulently got you to sign over your rights to the shop.”
“Yes your honor,” Topaz answered.
“And how did he do that?” the judge asked.
“Well,” Topaz glanced at Vicki who stood up.
“My client argues that the ownership papers were placed within the divorce papers,” Vicki said. “She signed the divorce papers, and then the defendant returned to her house with the papers, and met her as she was walking out the door. Topaz relates that they had a pleasant conversation in which Onyx Thompson pledged to remain amicable with regard to the division of assets, and then he explained that he was on his way to the courthouse to turn in the divorce papers. He then told her she had forgotten a signature, and flipped to a signature line in the documents. He led her to believe that she was signing the divorce papers, when in fact, she was signing over her rights to the store.”
“Your honor,” Onyx’s lawyer jumped in. “It’s not my client’s fault that the plaintiff didn’t read the documents she was presented.”
“You’ll have your chance, Mr. Thompson,” the judge said. “Ms. Park, please proceed.”
“We argue,” Vicki said, “that the defendant’s intent was to deliberately mislead, which is obtaining a signature by deception under Arizona State Code 13-2005.”
“Uh-huh,” the judge nodded as she scribbled down a note. “Mr. Thompson, you pleaded not guilty in the arraignment.”
“That’s correct,” Onyx’s lawyer John Markle responded.
“So what happened then?” the judge asked.
“My client argues that the plaintiff knew full well what she was signing away,” Markle said. “She had told Mr. Thompson in earlier conversations that the store was a burden and it was belaugered with financial trouble. It was also a reminder of their previous relationship, and she wanted nothing to do with the store.”
Topaz shifted in her seat and I heard her whimper in desperation. She whispered, “He’s lying. He straight up lying.”
“Ms. Whitestone,” Markle gestured toward our table, “was willing to give up the rights to the store for the title of the couple’s only vehicle, a vintage Volkswagen Beetle that she loved.”
It did occur to me that Topaz drove around in an old VW Beetle.
“That’s not what happened,” Topaz stage whispered to both Vicki and me. I continued to listen.
“Did he sign over the title?” Judge Preston asked.
“Yes, your honor,” Markle said. “We have a photocopy of the transferred title.”
The judge held out her hand. “Let me see that.”
Markle crossed the room and handed it to the balliff. I turned to Vicki who appeared nonplussed. I knew this detail was a sore point for both Vicki and the client, but she held on to her poker face pretty well.
“We have the original document,” Vicki told the judge.
“I’ll need to see that too,” the judge said.
I crossed my legs and watched as Vicki confidently strode to the front of the room and delivered the document to the bailiff. She passed Markle on the way and shot him a withering glance.
It was a
