When Judge Marilyn Hodge entered, she paused briefly as she surveyed the unusually crowded gallery, her gaze lingering on the line of bikers before she took her seat with professional composure.
“Why is there an unusually large presence in my courtroom today?” she asked calmly.
Rebecca’s attorney rose first and said, “Your Honor, we believe this gathering is intended to intimidate both the court and my client.”
The word intimidate rolled through the benches in uneasy murmurs as several onlookers shook their heads.
Assistant District Attorney Paul Whitaker stood and added, “Mr. Sloan has a documented history of substance abuse and prior disturbances, and the presence of an organized group affiliated with him raises legitimate concern.”
The bailiff addressed the men at the back and said, “You will remain silent and seated.”
Each man nodded once in acknowledgment without a trace of defiance, and their stillness made them appear even more formidable.
Garrett finally lifted his head, revealing eyes rimmed in red not from anger but from exhaustion and dread.
“Your Honor,” he said in a rough voice, “I asked them to come.”
The room shifted with audible surprise. Rebecca stiffened and her attorney leaned closer to her in disbelief.
“You invited them?” the attorney asked sharply.
“Yes, ma’am,” Garrett replied.
Judge Hodge held her pen midair and asked, “For what purpose?”
Before Garrett could answer, a tall man with a graying beard stepped forward half a pace from the back wall. His name was Travis Cole, and though he wore the same leather vest as the others, his posture was restrained and respectful.
“Your Honor, if I may clarify,” Travis began.
The bailiff immediately raised a hand and said, “Remain where you are.”
Travis stopped without protest and replied, “Yes, sir.”
That obedience only deepened the suspicion among the spectators.
Rebecca’s attorney raised her voice slightly and said, “Your Honor, this is a custody hearing involving allegations of abuse, and this visible show of support is inappropriate.”
“It is not a show,” Garrett interrupted, his cuffed hands trembling as he swallowed hard and glanced once toward Avery.
She watched him carefully, her small fingers gripping the edge of the bench.
“I need witnesses,” Garrett said.
The courtroom buzzed louder with confusion.
Judge Hodge leaned forward. “Witnesses to what?”