“You’re right, we need to get through today,” I said, pushing past a hulking man wearing body odor and a muscle T-shirt that read: “God Gave Second Chances.” Scorning next to him was a soccer mom in an oversize windbreaker embossed with: Friedman Murderers.

On the one day that increased security would have made sense, Matthew and I were waved through by the guards after barely flashing our ID cards.

Betsy and Kevin joined us in the elevator just before the doors closed.

“Good morning, Sheila,” Kevin said, uncomfortably. “And Matthew, how are you?”

“I’m fine thanks, how are—”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate for us to speak with the other side,” Betsy snipped, imitating something she’d heard once on Law and Order. In real life, even lawyers on opposing sides could say, “How are you” without violating the code of ethics.

“Whatever, Betsy.” I accidentally gave her a once-over, an unwitting compliment to her amazing white suit. “Kevin, I’ll give you a call tonight.” Matthew and I stepped off the elevator.

“What’s wrong with her?” Matthew whispered as we approached the clerks’ cave. “Honestly, I have to say, I’ve met lots of lame people in my life. But Betsy is almost unbelievable. I’m not sure who’s worse, law clerks or Judge Friedman.”

“So nice of you two to make it in this morning,” the judge said. She was sitting at the table in the clerks’ cave. She was fully robed with a rounded bun and sunglasses. “We have lots to do before arguments today,” she said, folding her hands.

“Judge”—I glanced at the clock—“I thought we said we’d meet here at—”

“Tsst!” She raised a finger. “Today, I am in control.” As opposed to all the other days? “I don’t recall having asked you a question. Therefore, you will not speak. Please sit. Both of you.” She looked down at a list. “I need to ensure I know each of these case names inside and out. So, we’re going to do a little test run. Prabakerish?”

“It’s, um,” Matthew said apprehensively, “it’s actually Prabaker-an. A sixth circuit case finding a lawyer to be ineffective when he failed to present mitigation evidence without a clear strategy.”

“Trumbel?”

“Trumbel is first circuit,” I flipped through my mental binder. “Finding no Sixth Amendment violation in spite of the lawyer being just shy of legal intoxication during sentencing.”

“Horn?”

“Horn, that’s the really great case from the fourth circuit,” Matthew said, sitting up straight. “The one where the lawyer slept through portions of the guilt and sentencing phases—but less than the Tipper slept in our case—and the court found a violation.”

Peterson?

Milken?

Givens?