Karen smiled, and the judge joined her. And Donny realized he was doing it again.

“But the only thing either of us should be embarrassed about,” he added, “is that we were partying while Ms. Keller’s client was busy killing people for their politics.”

“Save it for the press conference, Mr. Kimoe,” said the judge. “Because you have a long way to go to make that case, and there are no cameras in here. Now, let’s get on the record and see if we can make up some of the time you wasted. I have a full docket of people with real problems lined up behind you.”

She gaveled them in with a barely audible tap, and her staff attorney, court reporter, and bailiff kicked into gear with the energy of a middle-aged cover band ready to play the same old song one more time.

This was the kind of hearing the clients don’t show up for. And it was the kind of case the clients might even forget, as the years rolled by with depositions and document requests and discovery fights but no real progress. Donny had been a different kind of defense lawyer, the kind who tries to keep guilty people alive and out of jail, so he could appreciate Karen’s gifts for delay and jurisprudential misdirection. But looking over at her and her squad, he was reminded that while P&C was billing enough every month to pay the full salary of one of those associates, Donny would only get paid if and when he won. In the meantime, every hour he put into working on this case, and every buck he spent on travel and discovery, was a sunk cost. That each of the junior lawyers sitting there with Karen made more money in one year than Donny made in the last three added to the rub, even before you remembered that one of them commanded that salary in part because she had clerked for Judge Larriva. But Donny had finally compelled them to produce the witness who, if Donny’s information was good, could break the case open. If the morning went well, he might even get Karen to talk about writing a check that would keep the real story wrapped up in a confidential settlement agreement. Donny would get a third of that check, and it would be just enough to make up for the guilt he would feel at failing to get the true story out there. It would have to be, because this was the only real case Donny had worked on for the past year. He had debts to pay, real ones and karmic ones, and he had put all his chips on this hand.