Chapter 23

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"All rise for the Honorable Judge Humphries," the bailiff announced from the corner of the courtroom beside a prisoner clad in an orange jumpsuit.

It was just past nine in the morning. I'd gotten up early to drive to Regina's house, giving her a reassuring pep talk before heading to the firm to pick up some documents for court. It was a rainy, windy morning. There was no denying Chicago is the Windy City. Monica had enthusiastically cheered me on as I left the office, heading to the courthouse.

The county courthouse was loaded with attorneys and their clients waiting for proceedings. I watched several deputies escort prisoners through the hallways. The long halls were difficult to maneuver through due to it being so crowded. I sat down on a wooden bench outside courtroom 116. There was a whiteboard on a stand outside the courtroom doors that listed what time each hearing was going to be and what each hearing was for.

This wasn't my first time working on a protective order. I was used to the boring process of sitting in the courtroom with several other people who were there for the exact same thing, waiting for their names to be called. Each person who filed for a protective order got to speak to the judge in a short hearing in front of everyone else who was waiting on their own hearings. It usually took two hours for the judge to see everyone. There was normally about ten people who had filed. After the hearings were over, the judge would take a two hour break and then the next round of hearings would begin. I didn't envy the judge. It had to be tiring listening to all those people and their domestic violence stories all day.

About five minutes before the hearings began, Regina met me in the hallway. She'd dressed extremely well for the occasion, wearing a black pantsuit that almost matched mine and red heels. For a first-time hearing, she seemed a little overdressed, compared to all the other people in the courtroom who were dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts. Usually the attorneys were the only ones who dressed up for the first hearing. Most people didn't even dress nicely for the follow-up, which I didn't like, but then again I always thought it was more appropriate if everyone dressed professionally when seeing a judge. I thought it was better to be overdressed than underdressed. Besides, people generally take you more seriously if you look professional.

We entered the courtroom, taking seats in the front row. The room was large with big windows that desperately needed their blinds tilted. There was only one other attorney present. Most people didn't bother with attorneys for these things until the follow-up hearing, if at all.

The judge was a few minutes late. We'd been sitting there for ten minutes, which seems like forever when you're anxiously awaiting something. Regina kept glancing around the courtroom nervously and I patted her arm in attempt to reassure her that everything was going to be fine. The first hearing was the easy part.

Twenty-three people including us stood in unison as Judge Humphries entered the room, taking a seat at the bench, swearing everyone in and telling everyone to be seated again. I'd met Judge Humphries before. She was a short, middle aged woman with shoulder length brown hair. She never appeared approachable, but I'd tried on a few occasions to strike up a conversation with her outside the courtroom anyway, just trying to be friendly. In the legal system, it helped to know people. If you made a good connection with someone, a lot of times it would end up benefitting you, sometimes tremendously. I always tried to give judges a great impression of me, hoping they'd remember me later and maybe something good would come of it.

"Maria Constantinova," Judge Humphries called the first person on her list.

A rail-thin young woman with long raven black hair and a bright pink tank top stood up, walking toward the bench. Judge Humphries looked through the paperwork Maria had filled out, explaining why she needed a protective order.

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