The Judge Asked Who Could Sign For Twelve Fishing Boats

The courthouse floor squeaked under my damp shoes.

Beatrice wore a gray coat with a missing cuff button. She had brought a folder, reading glasses, and crackers in a sandwich bag.

"Eat something," she told me.

"I can't."

"Then hold them. Gives your hands a job."

I held the crackers until Ruth arrived.

Sloane stood outside the courtroom beside her lawyer. She wore the red glasses I had seen above my separation form.

"This could have been a conversation," she said to me.

Ruth stepped beside us.

"We've had several," she said.

Inside, we sat on a wooden bench. Our hearing was about a temporary order. No one had promised us a final win that morning. The cooperative had to show why the recordings needed protection before a fuller hearing could happen.

Ruth laid out the unpaid invoices, the notice period, and the transfer terms. Then she showed the Friday courier list.

Sloane's lawyer said his client had built a valuable business and disputed the scope of the license. He pointed to her sworn statement about the shore pilot.

The judge looked down at the papers for a long time.

"Are the file codes in these two exhibits identical?" she asked.

"Yes," Ruth said. "We have the cooperative's records agent here to explain the comparison."

The judge allowed a short stretch of sworn testimony. I went to the witness seat and gave my name.

My voice caught on Batista. I started again.

Ruth asked when I first worked for the cooperative and when Wakeglass hired me. She asked why I held the license.

"They appointed me to maintain the record and receive notices," I said. "I kept the copy they gave me."

"Could you approve a transfer?"

"No. That required the cooperative's written consent."

Then she asked about the engine sample.

I explained the two knocks, the pause, and the soft third beat.

"Is hearing that rhythm enough to establish the file's source?" she asked.

"No. It told me which record to check. The matching file code showed it was the same file."

I pointed out the code in the buyer's list and the code on our March sheet. The boat log placed the recorder aboard Mercy Bell. The captain's signed sheet showed the days. Our receipt showed when the cooperative had delivered the batch to Wakeglass.

Sloane's lawyer asked if I had reason to dislike his client.

"She fired me," I said.

"And you were angry?"

"Yes."

"You wanted to stop her sale?"

"I wanted the license followed. Stopping this delivery was part of that."

He asked whether I had changed the original logs after leaving Wakeglass.

"No. The cooperative's safe holds the signed sheets. These copies match those sheets."

Ruth had brought them in case the court wanted them checked.

The judge asked Sloane's lawyer who had signed consent on behalf of the twelve boats.

He searched through his folder.

"My client understood Ms. Batista to have authority."

"The agreement says otherwise," the judge said. "Where is the chair's consent?"

There was no paper for him to hand up.

I looked toward Beatrice. Her folder rested square on her knees. She had brought every page she had ever signed for this project. What was missing from his folder was missing because she had refused it. For months, I had thought our problem was getting someone to listen. Now everyone waited for a signature that did not exist.

Sloane leaned over and whispered to him. He asked for a moment, then said his client needed to review the source of the sample files. He would submit a corrected statement about them.

The judge issued a temporary order barring Wakeglass from sending out or making new use of the listed recordings pending further court action. She ordered the relevant files and business records preserved and set a schedule for exchanging evidence.

The order named the data. It did not declare every part of Wakeglass worthless. It did not decide my wage claim.

But Friday's drive could not leave.

Outside, Beatrice opened the crackers.

"Now," she said.

I ate one. It tasted like salt and the inside of a paper bag. I was hungry enough to take another.

By late afternoon, Wakeglass's other two directors had voted to put Sloane on leave and remove her access to its delivery systems. Ada sent Ruth the signed board minutes. The outside accountant now had the bank records and all three customer agreements.

Sloane's corrected statement also arrived. It withdrew her claim that the samples came entirely from a separate pilot.

I read that sentence twice.

At six, Ada called Beatrice with an update. Beatrice put her on speaker.

"The deposits total $240,000," Ada said. "There's more. We found $96,000 paid to a consulting business Sloane owns, and no board approval for those payments."