“So do most judges, eventually,” he said.
Marianne opened a leather folder and sat in the chair near my bed. “I won’t overwhelm you. There are three immediate concerns. Your safety. Your legal identity while recovering. And preserving evidence.”
I listened as she explained in plain terms what could be done. A confidential protective order. Medical privacy protections. A sworn preliminary statement when I was strong enough. Coordination with law enforcement, but carefully, to avoid leaks.
“Leaks?” I asked.
“Victor Hale is connected,” Marianne said. “Not untouchable. No one is. But connected enough that we should assume he’ll hear things faster than we’d like.”
My thoughts drifted to Victor’s friends. The district attorney he played golf with. The retired judge at our wedding. The police charity dinners where he shook hands and donated just enough to be admired.
“I want to tell the police,” I said.
