Clean Break by Karen Stewart

Author:Karen Stewart
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Self-Help
ISBN: 9780470675526
Publisher: Wiley, John & Sons, Incorporated
Published: 2008-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Despite her questionable presence in the courtroom, Sandra was painstaking and meticulous in preparing our documents. She saw to it that every i was dotted, every t crossed, and every important affidavit signed, sealed, and delivered well in advance of the deadline.

Four weeks after she awarded Tom $50,000, Madam Justice Molyneux was back on the bench, and Sandra and I were back before her.

The matter on the day’s docket: an application by Tom to have my salary slashed.

In preparation for the hearing, I spent countless hours and almost $10,000 putting together a lengthy affidavit with Sandra. She assured me she’d filed it four days earlier, well ahead of the 72-hour advance deadline.

I grudgingly stood as the court clerk announced the Honorable Madam Justice Molyneux, and I sat quickly as the judge shuffled into her seat.

She began abruptly. “Ms. Arsenault, no defense today?”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor. I don’t understand.”

“Then I’ll use smaller words. Your response to the plaintiff ’s application. Where is it?”

“I filed it on Monday, Your Honor.”

“In that case, it should be in my hands, which it isn’t.”

“I’m sorry, Your Honor, but I filed it. If you didn’t receive it, we’ll need a continuance.”

“Not likely, Ms. Arsenault.” Waving her arm dismissively at Sandra, Madam Justice Molyneux turned and mumbled something at the clerk, who immediately disappeared through a door at the back of the courtroom.

Two minutes later the door reopened and the clerk returned. She shrugged, empty-handed, at the judge.

“The court hasn’t got your submission, Ms. Arsenault,” Madam Justice Molyneux said abrasively. “So, what next?”

“As I said, Your Honor, we need to request a continuance.”

“No can do, my dear. As well you know, these courtrooms are in high demand. Surely you’ve got a copy somewhere among all those papers of yours?”

“Of course,” Sandra chirped. She pulled our affidavit from her stack of briefs and held it up for the judge to see. “It’s right here.”

“Let’s have it then,” she said impatiently, and then added for the entire courtroom, “Let’s take five, people.”

The clerk took the affidavit from Sandra and passed it to Madam Justice Molyneux, who stood, shot Sandra and me a glowering look, and then retired to the back room.

She left the door slightly ajar, and from where my mother and I were seated, we could see her with my affidavit.

Contained within its 30 pages, along with charts and graphs and easy-to-understand snapshots of the company’s finances, was my desperate plea to the universe that the system see the numbers for what they really were—that I wasn’t mismanaging the company or misappropriating funds, that every transaction was aboveboard, and that the state of The Wealth Management Corporation was improving day by day.

Clinging desperately to one last shred of hope, I watched Madam Justice Molyneux with my affidavit in her back room. I watched her flip through the 30 pages of my heart and soul in a little under three minutes, skimming through the contents as if it were a Dick and Jane book. Then I watched her toss it onto a desk before she breezed back through the doorway.

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