“You could have shown us.”
There it was.
I finally looked directly at her.
“You could have believed me.”
Her mouth closed.
Judge Morland glanced between us.
“Ms. Hamilton, do you know what prompted this complaint?”
“I know what they told me.”
“And what was that?”
“That Brenda discovered I had been telling people I was a lawyer and became concerned I was committing fraud.”
The judge looked at Brenda.
“Is that accurate?”
“Yes.”
She answered too quickly.
Judge Morland noticed.
So did I.
Committee counsel, a narrow-faced man named Mr. Avery, opened another file.
“Judge, may I?”
“Please.”
He adjusted his microphone.
“Ms. Hamilton’s licensure has been independently verified. She has been an active member of the Massachusetts bar for nine years, with no disciplinary history.”
My mother stared at him.
“Nine?”
Something old shifted inside me.
Nine years.
She hadn’t even known.
Mr. Avery continued.
“Her reported employment history is accurate. Her trial record is accurate. Her role in Fitzgerald is accurate.”
Brenda lowered her gaze.
“And,” he added, “the committee received three letters from sitting judges and two former federal prosecutors responding to notice of the complaint.”
My father’s expression changed.
“Letters?”
“They address Ms. Hamilton’s professional reputation.”
Judge Morland put her glasses back on.
“Which is why we are now confronting a different issue.”
She looked at Brenda.
“Whether this complaint was filed in good faith.”
Brenda’s head lifted sharply.
“Of course it was.”
“Then help me understand something.”
Judge Morland raised the original complaint.
