Chapter 2 - The Declassification
The courtroom erupted into absolute chaos.
Reporters scrambled for their phones, frantically whispering to their editors. The judge banged his wooden gavel repeatedly, the sharp crack-crack-crack barely cutting through the deafening roar of the gallery.
"Order! I will clear this courtroom!" Judge Harrison roared, his face flushed with anger and surprise.
I didn't look at the judge. I kept my eyes locked on my mother. Sylvia’s meticulously crafted mask of the "grieving, betrayed parent" had completely evaporated, replaced by a tight, bloodless terror. Julian’s arrogant smirk was entirely gone; his jaw hung slack as he stared at the intimidating man standing at the bench.
"Approach the bench," the judge ordered the lawyers, his tone brooking no argument. "Now."
David practically sprinted to the front of the room. The prosecutor looked as though he had been physically struck, stumbling forward. Thorne calmly handed over a thick stack of documents, each page stamped with a glaring red UNCLASSIFIED seal.
"What exactly is this, Director?" Judge Harrison asked, his tone skeptical but wary as he scanned the first page.
"Those are the unredacted operational logs of Task Force Echo," Thorne stated clearly, turning his head just enough to ensure the jury and the press could hear every word. "The defendant served under my direct command for six intense years. Her file was sealed under Executive Privilege due to the highly sensitive nature of the Zargan Valley extraction—an operation in which she sustained catastrophic, near-fatal injuries while saving my life, and the lives of three other tier-one operatives."
Thorne turned to face the prosecution’s table, locking eyes with the attorney who was still holding my supposedly 'fake' medals.
"The Intelligence Star you have sitting in that display box is not a cheap replica," Thorne said, his voice dripping with icy, undeniable contempt. "I know this for a fact. Because I pinned it on her hospital gown myself while she was in a medically induced coma at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center."
The prosecutor slowly lowered himself into his chair, his knees visibly buckling beneath him.
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"Are you telling this court," Judge Harrison said slowly, peering over his glasses at the heavily stamped documents, "that the prosecution has spent the last month trying a highly decorated intelligence officer for stolen valor?"
"Worse, Your Honor," Thorne replied smoothly, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light. "They have committed organized perjury to frame her. And I brought the FBI with me to prove it."
