The judge nodded, and Karen approached the bench with the document, then handed Donny a copy. There were multiple pages, stapled together.

“What is this?” said Donny.

“Defense Exhibit 317, with the court’s permission,” said Karen.

“I’ll admit it provisionally for now,” said the judge. “I need to read it, and you’ll need to authenticate it.”

“That’s fair, Your Honor,” said Karen. “But you’ll see it’s pretty straightforward. And the main thing is the second page, which is already self-authenticated in part: a Certificate of Death from the New Orleans Coroner’s Office, attesting that Daryl Harrison died on January 3. Cause of death: blood loss resulting from gunshot wounds.”

Donny flipped ahead.

“Where’s the autopsy report?” he asked.

“There was none performed,” said Karen.

“Because there was no body,” said Donny, holding up the death certificate and pointing at one of the notes.

“Is that true?” said the judge, looking to Karen.

“It is,” said Karen. “Mr. Harrison was killed in a firefight, while attempting to serve what the new government in New Orleans calls an ‘extraterritorial arrest warrant’ and the rest of us call an illegal kidnapping order. Here in Dallas, right after the New Year. He was shot by private security guards. Killed in action. And left behind by his colleagues, who finished the mission.”

“I see that now,” said the judge, flipping the pages.

“‘Suggestion’ of Death is right,” said Donny. “This isn’t proof.”

“Of course it’s proof,” said Karen. “The coroner did not have the body. But they did have photos, taken by the security team before they disposed of the body. We are working on obtaining copies of those as well.”

“So the body’s in Dallas?”

“I believe there are cremains in possession of the municipal government, Your Honor, but no family has claimed them.”

Donny looked back at the death certificate, searching for defects, signs of alteration. But it was the real thing. He felt cornered.

He threw Karen’s document down on the table. “Your Honor,” he said. “You can’t throw this out over this. You heard the testimony just now. This is about hundreds of innocent people, maybe more, who were murdered for their peaceful resistance to the regime.”

“I just heard your evidence, Mr. Kimoe. There is more to your allegations than I thought. But I don’t have a choice. The rules are very clear.”

Donny held up his copy of the rules, and pointed at the provision they were citing. “The rule gives me ninety days.”

“That was amended last year,” said the judge, beating Karen to it. “An effort to help clear the glut of cases from our backlog.” She gestured at her reconstruction docket. Every day was fully booked, including a few nights.