“Well, that’s not totally true,” Judge Greenman whispered, “Drexel is remarkably similar to the current case.” Greenman’s nickname (or, actually, behind-his-back name) was “Silent Ted.” As he rarely spoke from the bench, nobody dared to interrupt him now. “Of course, the actual facts of the case were different. No two cases are ever exactly alike. The lawyers’ behavior in both cases is almost identical. Both lawyers slept through much of the trial and sentencing. In fact, Mr. Evans slept even more than Drexel’s lawyer. Both lawyers were badgered by their clients’ friends and family to allow them to testify to spare their clients’ lives, and they did not use them as mitigation witnesses. Both lawyers strangely allowed their clients to take the stand and basically left them there to dry. As such, for my sake and just for the sake of argument, let’s use Judge Friedman’s hypothetical, that Drexel did come from this court. What would be the outcome today if Drexel were a third circuit case, Mr. Kang?”

The crowd hushed. Mr. Kang looked up, down, left, right in search of the answer. Linda Adams sat silently, exhibiting Herculean restraint. Time stood still.

“The outcome would be the same,” Mr. Kang whispered.

“Excuse me, Mr. Kang, we couldn’t hear that,” Judge Friedman said, leaning forward and cupping her ear.

“Sorry. I said that if Drexel had been decided by this court and not the ninth circuit, then you all would be compelled to give Mr. Nelson a resentencing.”

The court went wild.

Dell Nelson clapped to himself. I could have sworn that even his security guard looked pleased.

“Order! Order!” Judge Fleck screamed for the second time in less than ten minutes. The en banc had devolved into a bad rerun of Night Court.

Order came and went during the remainder of Mr. Kang’s deflated arguments, which were buoyed only momentarily by a few well-rehearsed questions from Judges Adams and Fleck.

“Thank you, Ms. Northum and Mr. Kang, for your arguments today,” Judge Fleck announced before banging his gavel. As the judges filed out of the courtroom, chatter erupted.

“Holy shit,” Matthew exclaimed, “today was worth every second of agony from this year!”

“I completely agree,” I said, laughing out loud.

“Well, it doesn’t really even seem like Robert Nussbaum’s involvement with Mayor Adams even matters at this point, right?” Evan added. “I mean, there’s no way Nelson’s not getting a rehearing now.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Betsy interrupted. “You all—none of us—has any clue what’s going to happen once the judges are by themselves, without all this nonsense,” she said, nodding toward the audience—in her mind, the hoi polloi, the masses, the riffraff.