Chapter 3: Verdict
Gordon Bombay was furious.
Outside the courtroom he roamed the halls looking for Tracy. She had made him look like a fool. Not only did he look like a fool but his client and the entire firm of Duckworth as well.
Bombay finally found her alone, leaning against the wall in a hallway. She saw him coming towards her but she had nowhere to run. Bombay grabbed her by the elbow and opened a door to an empty meeting room.
"In here," he ordered. "Now!"
Tracy tried to resist but Bombay overpowered her and shoved her into the room. He closed the door behind him and locked the door.
"Who the hell do you think you are?" Bombay yelled.
Tracy stood silently. She didn't even flinch. Her silence made Bombay livid. The two of them stared at each other without saying a word. Eventually, Bombay broke the silence and scoffed.
"I'm glad you did this now so I never made the mistake of recommending a no good, low down slut …"
Tracy slapped him. Bombay was shocked. He had never been hit by anyone before. Sure, a lot of women looked like they wanted to but none of them actually went though with it. Most of them just shook their head in disgust and walked away. Bombay felt the anger rising inside of him.
He was about to raise his hand in retaliation when a memory of his father came rushing back to him.
**flashback**
It was the week before he father died. His father's words came back to him. It was as clear as it was back in 1973.
"Gordon. I want to talk to you son."
Young Gordon Bombay stood beside his father's bed. He knew something was wrong with his father. He didn't know what it was. His Dad was not himself for the last four months. He was always tired and looked sickly. The doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.
Gordon heard his mother talk about the word cancer but he didn't know what that word meant. All he knew is that his Dad was off work sick a lot and spent most of his times inside resting. But he always made it a point at least once a day to watch his son skate on the pond behind their house. Except for this week. This week he was too tired to do even that.
"What is it Dad?"
The elder Bombay struggled to sit up in bed. When he did, he placed his hand on his sons shoulder.
"Gordon," his Dad started. "There is going to be a day when you will be the man of the house. A day when I will no longer be able to do that job around here. I need you to promise me that you'll always take care of your mother for me. She's a good woman. Much too good for me."
"I promise Dad," Gordon whispered.
"And I'll need to you promise me that you'll never ever hit a women. They …"
*** End Flashback ***
Bombay snapped back to reality and as soon as he realized his hand was raised, he immediately, as if he were embarrassed, lowered it to his side. The expression on Bombay's face softened.
"I…um…I.." Bombay stuttered. He didn't know what to say.
Tracy looked at him like he had three heads. She never saw this side to Bombay. He looked vulnerable.
"You can't just go around destroying people's lives. You can't always win," Tracy insisted.
The five minute warning bell rang. Court would be back in session in 5 minutes.
"I've got to go," Bombay muttered. His face hardened. "You can forget about that reference."
Tracey laughed. She didn't care about the reference. She gave up her dream of going to law school. She was too honest. She watched as Bombay bolted out of the room and ran up the stairs to the courtroom and sighed. It was over. She would miss him. She didn't know why but she knew she would.
"All rise."
Bombay stood with his client.
Judge Smith shuffled the papers on his desk. "Please be seated."
Everyone in the courtroom sat down.
"The court has been advised that the jury has reached a verdict. Could the presiding juror please bring the verdict form to the bench?"
A smallish man in his forties stood, walked over to the bench and handed Judge Smith a piece of paper. Judge Smith spent a minute reading the paper over before handing the paper back to the presiding juror. The presiding juror took back the sheet and returned back to his seat.
"Would the defendant please stand and would the presiding juror please stand and read the findings?"
Gordon Bombay and the defendant both rose at the same time as the juror. Bombay already knew the findings. It was just a formality at this point.
"We the jury , one, on the charge of fraud over 5,000 dollars, find the defendant, Nicholas Tome, guilty."
Gordon sighed. He looked over at his client. His client glared at him.
"We the jury, two, on the charge of forgery, find the defendant, Nicholas Tome, guilty."
Bombay stood as the remainder of the charges were read. Guilty as charged on all counts. He looked over to the press gallery for Tracy. Her seat was empty. He did see his boss, Gerald Ducksworth, at the back of the court room. He had some explaining to do.
Gordon Bombay leaned back and sighed in his office chair. It was 7:30 in the evening. All the other staff at Ducksworth had gone home for the evening. Only the doorman remained.
Bombay flipped though some documents in a folder before opening a drawer in his desk. He put the folder away and closed the desk drawer. He waited a minute. He opened up the desk drawer and took the file and placed it on his desk.
Suddenly, he rose. He picked up the file and walked over to the filing cabinet. He put the folder in a draw listed "G. Bombay' and closed the drawer. Bombay proceeded to lock the draw and sit back down at his desk. He took a swig of water from a bottle. Stood up and went back to the cabinet to ensure that it was locked. When satisfied that the draw was locked, he returned to his desk and stared out his office window.
Bombay was restless.
Gerald Ducksworth watched Bombay on a closed circuit television system from his office with interest. Bombay was unaware that Ducksworth was still at work. Ducksworth had watch Bombay argue many cases. Bombay had even argued before the Minnesota Supreme Court.
Never had he seen Bombay so restless. The usual cocky young attorney seemed depressed and withdrawn. During morning meetings, Bombay kept to himself.
Mr. Ducksworth liked Bombay from the start. He had taken the young lawyer under his wing about 5 years ago when he first got out of law school. He watched Bombay as he grew into one of the firms most valuable lawyers.
He also saw Bombay become more ruthless as the years went on. This is something he did not like. It was one thing to want to win but Bombay often overkilled in the courtroom. Not just winning but embarrassing his opponents.
Ducksworth thought it was time to talk to Bombay. He found Bombay hunched over a law book at his desk.
"Gordon?"
Bombay snapped to attention. "Mr. Ducksworth? I thought you had gone home for the day."
Ducksworth ignored the question. "I thought you would have as well." He paused for a second. "Sit down Gordon.
Bombay eyed his boss wearily and sat down at his desk. Mr. Ducksworth took a chair from one of the adjoining desks and sat down.
"I wanted to talk to you about the most recent case," Mr. Duckswork started.
"Mr. Ducksworth," Gordon pleaded. "I can explain..."
Ducksworth wasn't having any of it. "Gordon. Listen. I know your first loss can be hard. But there will be other cases."
"I know Sir," Bombay nodded. "It just really hated disappointing you and letting the firm down."
"I'm not going to tell you that winning isn't important. It is. But it's not the most important thing," Mr. Ducksworth said. "Look at me Gordon. I have one of the most respected firms in Minnesota. I own one of the nicest homes in Edina with a fleet of Lexus ES to shuttle me around in where I wish to go. But when I go home at night, it's to an empty house."
Ducksworth paused to see if Bombay understood what he was saying." Too much time spent in the office when I should have been at home. My wife left me and I barely even know my own children."
Bombay blinked. "What are you saying, Mr. Ducksworth?"
Ducksworth sighed. Bombay didn't get it. "Go home Gordon."
Bombay nodded. He understood what Ducksworth was saying. But to him, winning was everything. If you didn't win, what else was there?