Bartholomew Ashgrove, seventy-one, leaned back in the second row and let his mouth do the thing it does.
Across the aisle my husband sat with three attorneys from Kaine Petrossian. Italian suits, four leather cases, two encrypted laptops, and a set of colour-coded binders that must have cost eleven thousand dollars to produce.
They were representing the sole heir to Ashgrove Development Group, which is the largest privately held commercial developer in this state.
On my side of that courtroom there was a scuffed leather tote bag and a paper cup of water.
Judge Theodora Bracken looked down at me over her glasses.
“Mrs Ashgrove, you understand you have the right to retain counsel?”
“Yes, Your Honour.”
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