The Judge Asked Which Signature They Wanted Me To Supply

My lawyer charged $1,500 to start. I paid it from the money saved for a new truck transmission.

Her name was Mara Bell. She read the complaint twice, then asked for the email that carried my test quote.

"The actual email," she said. "With the attachment."

I sent it from the shop desk while she sat beside me.

My quote was $9,000. The page attached to Dorian's court papers showed $90,000.

He had started spreading that amount before I had quoted any price. Now he had a document to wave around.

"Did you send anyone a second version?" Mara asked.

"No. Farah signed the nine-thousand-dollar order."

Mara called Ellen. They compared the received copies, including the email times. Both originals showed $9,000.

"Keep your temper at the hearing," Mara told me. "Let the records do their job."

I almost told her they were the only things still doing their job.

Instead, I packed the report book.

Mara had me make a second folder for her: the original property schedule, my firing time, the buyer's invitation, and the test order. She put a small paper flag on each page she might need.

"Nothing loose in your pockets," she said.

"I fix equipment for a living. My pockets are all loose things."

"In court, you answer questions for a living."

I emptied two screws, a pencil stub, and a cable tie onto my kitchen table.

On Monday afternoon, we sat in a Weber County courtroom. I wore my only blue suit. The tuning fork rested in my coat pocket, its bent handle pressed against my ribs.

Dorian wore a dark suit that fit better than mine. He nodded at people as though he had invited them.

His lawyer said Driftline faced a huge loss because a former employee withheld a routine company document.

"Which document?" the judge asked.

The lawyer referred to my annual contract, then the B47 certificate.

"Those appear to be different things," she said.

Mara stood.

"They are. One is an agreement owned by my client's separate practice. The other would state that equipment passed tests. It did not pass his checks."

She handed up the property schedule, the resort agreement, and my sworn statement.

Dorian's lawyer said I had demanded payment.

"For test work," Mara said. "Here is the original quote. Here is the buyer's received copy. Both show nine thousand dollars. The plaintiff's exhibit has another zero."

The judge studied the pages.

"Counsel, can you account for this?"

The lawyer asked for a moment with Dorian.

They spoke at the table. Dorian shook his head and pointed toward me. His lawyer stopped looking in my direction.

"We will need to investigate the source of that exhibit," he said.

"Yes," the judge said. "You will."

Mara called me for a few questions about the test records.

"Could a replacement practice do this work?"

"Yes. They'd need the equipment, records, and enough time."

"Could you truthfully sign a pass for all thirty-two units today?"

"No."

"Would any payment change that answer?"

"No."

Dorian's lawyer asked whether being fired had upset me.

"Yes."

"You were angry at Mr. Pike?"

"Yes."

He paused, as if I had handed him the case.

"So you had a reason to hurt this sale."

I looked at the judge.

"I was upset before we ran the witnessed cold test. Two units still failed. My feelings didn't move the reference trace."

Farah's statement and the saved results were already in the packet. She sat behind Mara, ready to answer questions. Nobody asked her to turn a graph into a speech.

The judge denied the request to force my signature.

"This hearing does not decide who altered a document," she said. "Nor does it settle all the parties' claims. But I am not ordering a person to certify a result he says he has not obtained."

Both sides agreed to preserve the records and keep the disputed units from shipment while the audit went forward. The judge entered those terms in an order.

That was all. No cheering. No speech about justice.

The clerk called the next matter, and we gathered our paper.

In the hall, Dorian stepped beside me.

"You still don't have a job."

"Neither does a signature," I said. "It only has a name."

He stared, then walked toward the elevators.

Mara waited until he was gone.

"Don't trade lines with him. Send me anything else he sends you."

I nodded. I was learning the cost of even a small answer.

Outside, cold air hit my face. I stood on the steps and called my mortgage company to confirm that my next payment was already scheduled.

It was an ordinary call. I needed an ordinary thing to hold.

When I hung up, another call came through.

Leon, the auditor, spoke without greeting.

"We found thirty-two cold runs in the server archive. Eleven failed. None of those eleven results appeared in the closing packet."