At the front of the courtroom, Judge Donahue emerged from his chambers, his dark robe commanding the pull of gravity to the pale winter light. He ascended to his bench with practiced grace, his presence commanding the attention of all assembled. The room fell silent as he surveyed the space, his gaze taking in the eager faces of the jury, the poised figures of the attorneys, the tangle of cameras and microphones from the media pool.

“Good morning, everyone,” Donahue began, his voice resonating through the hushed chamber. “We have quite the crowd today, don’t we? I suppose that’s to be expected, given the monumental nature of this case.”

He allowed himself a small smile as he nodded toward the media section. “To our friends in the 12th estate, I trust you’ll keep your flashes and commentary to a minimum. This is a court of law, not a gladiatorial arena.”