Garrett Asked The Court To Give Him My Old Recordings

In the fourth week after I lost my badge, Garrett asked a judge to make me surrender the master drive.

I wore the same gray suit I had worn at my daughter's wedding. Salma brushed lint from its shoulder before we left.

“Do you have the original?” she asked.

I lifted the narrow document case.

“Three originals. Different years.”

“Then let them speak slowly.”

The company had asked for a fast order granting access to Tidebook for the sale. Its complaint claimed that my salary and use of company tools made the collection company property.

Asha had filed my answer and a claim for a clear ruling on ownership. She had also demanded that the company correct its statements about my work.

“Today is about their request for immediate access,” she told me outside the courtroom. “The whole lawsuit won't end in one morning.”

That helped. I wanted a result, but I did not want another person selling me speed.

The company's lawyer held up my employment agreement.

“Mr. Siddiqui assigned inventions and technical work made during his employment.”

“Please turn the page,” Asha said.

The judge did.

Attached was the property list I had signed when I joined in 2005. Tidebook appeared by name, with its recording dates, 1988 through 2004. The company had accepted that list with the agreement.

The next exhibit was the 2006 license. Then came the 2018 renewal.

“Why license what it already owned?” the judge asked.

The lawyer said the paperwork might have been a courtesy to a valued employee.

Asha handed up the payment ledger.

“A courtesy renewed annually, reported as an outside right, and made subject to written consent at a sale.”

When I took the stand, she asked how I had paid for the early work.

I showed equipment receipts, rental bills, and bank statements. One microphone rental had cost $86. Another receipt bore a coffee ring I had made nearly thirty years before.

“Were you employed by Pelican Reach then?”

“It didn't exist.”

“Did you claim the company's later test files as your property?”

“No.”

“Did you remove access after you were fired?”

“No. The existing license is still in force before a sale.”

The other lawyer asked why I had not simply approved the transfer.

“I wasn't asked to approve a transfer,” I said. “I was asked to say there was nothing to transfer.”

He looked down at his notes.

He tried once more.

“Isn't the value of these files partly due to company use?”

“Yes,” I said. “We learned how useful they were. The license paid for that use.”

“And you're seeking more money now?”

“I'm seeking accurate terms for a different owner.”

Asha then showed the court my written offer to discuss consent. She had sent it before the lawsuit. It asked for a corrected inventory and a meeting with the buyer's technical staff.

The company had replied with its ownership demand.

I watched the judge place those two letters together. There was nothing dramatic about it. I could still hear the vent above the bench. Yet I stopped worrying that I had failed to explain why I was there.

Garrett testified that losing the buyer would hurt forty-three employees. That was true. I knew the names of their children and which ones needed the early shift.

“We can't let one person hold them hostage,” he said.

The judge asked whether the company had offered a new license under truthful sale schedules.

Garrett said they had offered me a fair exit.

“That wasn't my question,” she said.

He admitted they had not.

Denise spoke next under a subpoena. She kept her answers short. The buyer had paused the deal because the seller's records were wrong. It had not asked the company to sue me.

“Would handing over the drive cure your findings?” the judge asked.

“No. We still need accurate rights, corrected reports, and management we can trust to disclose defects.”

The judge denied the company's request for forced access. She left the preservation order in place and set dates for the remaining claims.

She made clear that this was not a final judgment on every issue. Yet Garrett had arrived seeking my drive and left without it.

On the courthouse steps, Asha handed me back the case.

“Don't confuse a good morning with a finished matter.”

“I won't.”

At home, I put the originals away. I made tea without spilling it. For the first time in weeks, my hand felt steady.

Then Asha called again.

The examiner had recovered a planning sheet for the buyer's technical visit. Garrett had received it before firing me. Beside my name, Denise had listed three subjects she wanted explained: Tidebook rights, low-band settings, and PR-14-061.

Garrett had crossed out my attendance.

On the attached dismissal request, he had written, “Complete exit before technical interviews. No continuing role at sixty-two.”

Irene had approved it the next morning.

The three independent directors had called a special board meeting for Tuesday. They wanted the original planning sheet brought into the room.