The Judge Asked Who Actually Owned The Little Route Book

I brought the birthday book to court in a clear grocery bag.

Ada had told me not to alter it. A patch of soup had dried near the spine on Friday night. I had left that alone too.

Monday's hearing was in a small courtroom in Juneau. No jury. No cameras. Just worn chairs, paper cups, and lawyers trying to keep their stacks straight.

Conrad wore the same navy suit. He looked annoyed to find me seated beside counsel.

Before we went in, his lawyer asked whether I would accept a private discussion.

Ada said, "Send any proposal to me in writing."

The judge began by narrowing the questions.

"Today concerns temporary relief. I am not trying the entire contract case this morning."

Farah explained the winter freight block and the two promises attached to it. Ada explained Tide Ledger's role. The airline's lawyer said the company needed room to make business decisions.

"Including performance of its existing agreements?" the judge asked.

"Of course."

"Then let us establish which agreements exist."

The clerk marked the booking contract, lift agreement, and side letter as hearing exhibits.

I testified that I owned Tide Ledger. I described how bookings moved from member orders to carrier load lists. I explained the winter reservation and the weather rules.

"Could you order a pilot to fly?" the judge asked.

"No. I could reserve space. The pilot and operations staff still decided whether a flight could go safely."

"Could you sell the same reserved space to another customer?"

"The booking agreement didn't allow me to do that."

The airline's lawyer asked about my book.

"You recorded company route information in a private notebook?"

"I recorded birthdays, phone reminders, and things people asked me to remember."

"That sounds like business information."

Ada asked to show the court several pages, with personal phone numbers covered.

The judge looked at May ninth.

"What is this drawing?"

"A birthday candle. Ruth runs the receiving desk in Kake."

"And this notation?"

"Her grandson started school. She asked me to watch for his boots in a delayed order."

On the inside cover, my mother's name appeared under mine. She had given me the book before I started at Alder Reach.

The judge looked toward the airline's lawyer.

"Do you have evidence that the physical notebook belongs to your client?"

"We haven't completed our review."

"Then ownership of that notebook will not be assumed here."

Ada handed up the demand letter. She asked what evidence supported its claim that I had removed confidential files.

There wasn't any attached. The lawyer said the company was investigating.

Conrad stared at the empty witness chair.

Farah called Esther by video. Esther spoke from the cooperative office with last winter's invoices in front of her.

"We are asking for what we bought," she said. "If a storm stops a flight, we understand. If another customer buys our place without our agreement, that is different."

The judge asked both sides to discuss a short consent order during a recess.

The buyer had already told the airline board it would not resume closing while the records remained in doubt. Cold Spur's lawyer had also asked the airline to preserve its promised capacity and deposit.

For once, Conrad had more people waiting for answers than he had people to blame.

The order we reached kept the current community booking process running until October second. The airline agreed not to give Cold Spur priority over disputed W17 space during that period.

Both sides had to preserve relevant records. The airline would produce the side letter's drafts, related emails, payment records, and board approvals to counsel under agreed limits.

The judge signed it and set a follow-up date.

Nobody awarded me a fortune. Nobody declared Conrad a criminal. We had protected the next two weeks and secured a way to check his story.

That was enough for that morning.

Outside, I called Joel about the pump bound for Hoonah.

"On the load list," he said. "Pilot's watching the ceiling."

"Let Ben know when you have a firm departure."

"Already called him."

I sat on a bench while Ada checked her messages. Rain clung to the courthouse steps. For the first time all weekend, I could feel how tired my shoulders were.

"May I have my book back?" I asked.

She smiled and passed me the bag.

At five that afternoon, the first record batch reached our lawyers. Ada called me to her office to review an email chain.

The subject was Winter Account Transition.

Conrad's message ended with one instruction: Remove Williams before requesting the signature. She will accept the release when payroll stops.