Part 7 – The Vicious Crossfire
Courtrooms have their own kind of silence. Not the silence of peace, but the silence before a storm—the kind where every cough echoes, every shuffle sounds like thunder, and every word spoken can break a life in half.
That morning, Ashley walked in wrapped in Tank’s leather jacket, clutching it like armor. She was pale, but her chin was lifted. Fifteen years old and about to face the kind of attack most grown men wouldn’t survive.
Big John whispered as the deputies led us to the defense table, “Stay strong, brothers. She’s about to carry all of us.”
And then Callahan rose.
The devil’s lawyer adjusted his tie, strolling toward the witness stand with the confidence of a man who’d destroyed better people than Ashley. His voice was honeyed, but his eyes were blades.
“Miss Miller,” Callahan began, “you testified earlier that you ran away from home before, correct?”
Ashley’s hands tightened on the railing. “Yes, twice.”
“And on both occasions, you lied to your mother about where you were going?”
She nodded, throat tight. “I was scared. I made mistakes.”
Callahan paced slowly. “Mistakes. Interesting word. Would you say you have a pattern of making mistakes?”
Briggs shot up. “Objection. Badgering the witness.”
The judge hesitated. “Sustained. Rephrase, Mr. Callahan.”
Callahan smiled. “Of course, your honor. Miss Miller, would you agree that you’ve had trouble telling the truth in the past?”
Ashley’s lip trembled. “I… I guess.”
Callahan pounced. “So how can this court trust you now? How can anyone believe that forty-seven bikers weren’t threatening you, when your own record shows you’ve lied repeatedly?”
Ashley’s voice cracked. “Because this time I’m not lying. They saved me.”
Callahan turned to the jury, spreading his hands. “Ladies and gentlemen, you see the problem. This isn’t about bikers or charity rides. This is about credibility. And the truth is, this young woman has none.”
The bikers shifted in their seats, fury simmering. Wolf muttered, “Son of a bitch is gutting her alive.”
Briggs leaned on his cane, jaw clenched. I’d seen soldiers look that way before—men who knew they were losing a battle but refused to retreat.
Callahan wasn’t done.
“Miss Miller,” he said, voice dripping with mock concern, “isn’t it true you have a history of behavioral problems at school? Fights, suspensions?”
Ashley’s eyes filled. “They cornered me in the bathroom. I fought back.”
“Ah, so you admit to being violent.”
Her voice rose. “I defended myself!”
Callahan raised an eyebrow. “Defended? Or attacked? The record doesn’t specify, does it? All we know is you’ve been suspended multiple times. Violence seems to follow you.”
Ashley shook her head violently. “No! They—”
“Answer the question, Miss Miller. Are you violent?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “No. I’m not.”
The courtroom murmured. Callahan turned to the jury, letting the silence drag. “And yet violence always seems to find you. Curious, isn’t it?”
Briggs slammed his cane against the floor. “Objection! This is character assassination, not cross-examination!”
The judge raised his hand. “Counselors, approach.”
At the bench, Briggs leaned in, his voice hoarse. “Your honor, this is out of control. She’s a child, a victim. Callahan’s not testing her testimony—he’s destroying her soul.”
Callahan smirked. “I’m testing credibility, as is my right. If the defense’s case hangs on her words, then her words must be tested.”
The judge frowned. “Mr. Callahan has a point. But watch the line.”
Briggs’ voice cracked. “There is no line left. He’s crucifying her.”
The judge sighed. “Objection overruled. Proceed, but carefully.”
Briggs’ shoulders slumped. He knew what was coming.
Callahan returned to Ashley, voice smooth. “Miss Miller, you testified that a man lured you online. Do you often meet strangers from the internet?”
Ashley stammered. “N-no. Just once.”
Callahan tilted his head. “Just once. And that once led you to a house of alleged traffickers, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And when you fled, you conveniently stumbled into forty-seven bikers, who just happened to be there at the exact moment, correct?”
Ashley’s voice cracked. “It wasn’t convenient. It was chance.”
“Chance,” Callahan repeated, turning to the jury. “How remarkable. Out of all the places in North Carolina, you just happened to fall into the arms of a biker gang. And now they’re your heroes?”
Ashley sobbed. “They are!”
Callahan’s smile sharpened. “Or perhaps, Miss Miller, they’re using you. Perhaps they saw an opportunity to polish their reputation by claiming they saved a runaway girl. And perhaps you—confused, traumatized—are letting them.”
Ashley buried her face in Tank’s jacket. The courtroom blurred with whispers, the jury shifting uncomfortably.
The bikers looked ready to erupt. Big John muttered, “If he says one more word, I’ll—”
Briggs raised a hand. “Hold.”
Because Briggs wasn’t beaten yet.
When Callahan finally sat, smug and certain he’d broken her, Briggs rose. His cane tapped once, twice, like the countdown to artillery fire.
He approached the stand, his voice low, gentle. “Ashley. Look at me.”
She lifted her tear-streaked face.
“You told the truth, didn’t you?”
Her voice shook. “Yes.”
“You ran from that house?”
“Yes.”
“You ran into those bikers?”
“Yes.”
Briggs nodded. “Ashley, I’ve been a lawyer longer than you’ve been alive. I’ve seen liars. I’ve seen schemers. And I know this—you’re neither. You’re a survivor. And no amount of crossfire can erase that.”
Ashley’s lips trembled. “But they don’t believe me.”
Briggs turned to the jury, eyes blazing. “Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you—what would you have her do? She’s fifteen. She fought for her life. She ran for safety. And when safety looked like leather and tattoos, she still took it. Because she wanted to live. That is not the mark of a liar. That is the mark of truth.”
He slammed his cane down. “And if this court can’t see that, then shame on us all.”
The room went silent.
Ashley sobbed, but this time they weren’t tears of defeat. They were tears of being believed, even if only by one man.
After court, Briggs collapsed into a chair in the holding room. His hands shook as he poured black coffee.
“They’ll eat her alive,” he muttered. “Every lawyer trick in the book. They’ll drag her through the mud until the jury can’t tell up from down.”
John leaned forward. “So what’s the play, counselor?”
Briggs looked up, eyes haunted. “The play? The play is gambling with everything. If we let Callahan keep control, we lose. So I’ll take it from him. But it’s dangerous.”
“What kind of dangerous?” I asked.
Briggs hesitated. “Dangerous like putting Ashley back on the stand. Not as a victim. As a weapon.”
That night, he called Ashley and her mother to the visiting room. He explained his plan in a whisper, voice trembling.
“Callahan thinks you’re weak. He thinks you’ll fold. But tomorrow, we turn it. Tomorrow, you don’t cry. Tomorrow, you fight. You tell your story in full. Every detail. Every scar. You drag their darkness into the light.”
Ashley’s eyes widened. “I can’t… I don’t…”
Briggs took her hand. “You can. Because you already survived worse. And because I’ll be right there. I’m your lawyer, Ashley. I’ll protect you, even if it kills my case. Do you trust me?”
Ashley nodded, tears glistening. “I trust you.”
The next morning, court reconvened. The air was heavier, thicker, as if the walls themselves knew something monumental was about to happen.
Briggs rose, leaning on his cane. “Your honor, the defense recalls Ashley Miller to the stand.”
Gasps rippled. Callahan smirked. “Glutton for punishment, Briggs?”
Briggs’ voice cut like steel. “No. Just a lawyer who believes in truth.”
Ashley walked to the stand again, Tank’s jacket draped like a flag. She swore in, her voice steady this time.
Briggs stepped closer. “Ashley, yesterday you were asked about your past. Your mistakes. Your fights. I want you to tell this court—why did you fight? Why did you run away?”
Ashley’s voice rang out, stronger than before. “Because I was scared. Because I was hurt. Because nobody listened. But when those men looked at me, they saw their daughters. Their granddaughters. They saw me. And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t a problem. I was worth protecting.”
The courtroom stilled. Even the judge leaned forward.
Briggs turned to Callahan, voice sharp. “Cross-examine that, counselor.”
For the first time, Callahan didn’t move.
Ashley fights back on the stand, turning Callahan’s smear into a declaration of survival. The jury wavers. Briggs risks everything by letting her testify again—but Callahan isn’t beaten. In the shadows, he prepares a devastating ambush that could shatter the entire defense.
Part 8 – The Dark Settlement Offer
Ashley’s second day on the stand had rattled Callahan more than any verdict ever could. For the first time, the jury leaned forward—not toward his polished words, but toward hers. They weren’t just hearing a teenager; they were seeing a survivor.
Big John whispered to me that afternoon as the jury was dismissed for the day, “She carried us on her back, Marcus. A fifteen-year-old girl carried forty-seven men.”
But I saw something else when I looked at Callahan’s face across the aisle. He wasn’t beaten. He was calculating. The devil’s lawyer never loses—he just changes the battlefield.
And that night, he did.
Briggs got the call first. We were still in holding when a deputy handed him the phone. He listened, his face going from stone to thundercloud.
He slammed the receiver down and muttered, “Goddammit.”
“What is it?” John asked.
Briggs turned, eyes burning. “Callahan wants a meeting. Private. No cameras. He’s offering a settlement.”
The room erupted.
“A settlement?” Tank spat. “Like we’re guilty?”
Briggs lifted his cane, slamming it once against the floor. “Quiet. Listen. He’s not offering freedom. He’s offering ruin.”
The next morning, Briggs and I were escorted under guard to a downtown law office—Callahan’s turf. Polished marble floors, glass walls, a receptionist who looked like she’d never smiled without permission.
We were led into a boardroom big enough to host a wedding. At the far end sat Callahan, flawless as always. His cufflinks gleamed, his scotch already poured, his smile razor-thin.
“Walter,” he said smoothly. “Marcus. Please, sit.”
Briggs didn’t. He planted his cane on the floor and stared across the table. “Get to it.”
Callahan sighed like a disappointed teacher. “Always so hostile. Very well. Here it is: withdraw your defense. Plead guilty to a lesser charge—say, reckless endangerment. The court will reduce sentences. Six months each, maybe probation for some. In exchange, you drop your lawsuit against the insurer. You stop crying ‘victim.’ And the girl—”
His eyes glittered. “—Ashley Miller agrees never to testify again.”
My stomach turned. “You bastard.”
Callahan’s smile didn’t falter. “Let’s be honest. She’s already breaking. You saw it yesterday. Another week on that stand, and she’ll crack. The jury will see her as unstable, unreliable. I’ll make sure of it. Better to end it now. Protect the girl from herself.”
Briggs’ knuckles whitened on his cane. “This is extortion.”
“No, Walter,” Callahan said softly. “This is mercy. I’m giving you a way out. Your clients go home. They keep their bikes, their homes. Ashley goes back to school. And the public forgets in a month.”
“And the traffickers?” Briggs asked.
Callahan sipped his scotch. “Businessmen. Still free. Still paying my retainer. Some devils can’t be touched, Walter. You know that better than anyone.”
When we returned to the holding room, Briggs laid it out for the brothers.
“Six months,” he said bitterly. “Probation for some. No trial. No testimony. But you drop the lawsuit. And Ashley is silenced.”
The room exploded.
“Hell no!” Tank roared. “We didn’t bleed, we didn’t mortgage our damn homes just to crawl away!”
Preacher slammed his fists together. “That girl stood up for us. We’re gonna stand up for her.”
But others hesitated. Wolf muttered, “Six months is better than fifteen years. Better than losing everything.”
Silence fell. For the first time, doubt crept in.
Big John looked at Briggs. “What do you think, counselor?”
Briggs’ eyes were haunted. “I’ve been a lawyer forty years. I’ve watched guilty men walk free and innocent men rot because of bad deals and worse juries. I can’t lie—six months is tempting. But it’s poison. It means Callahan wins. It means the traffickers keep hunting. And it means Ashley carries the weight of silence for the rest of her life.”
Ashley, who had slipped quietly into the back of the room, spoke then.
“I don’t want them to win,” she whispered.
All heads turned. She was trembling, but her eyes burned. “They already stole so much from me. If I stay quiet now, they steal everything. My voice. My truth. Please… don’t take that away from me.”
John’s massive hand clenched into a fist. He looked at his brothers, then at Briggs. “Then no deal.”
The next day in court, Callahan expected to see hesitation. Instead, he saw forty-seven bikers stand tall as Briggs addressed the judge.
“Your honor,” Briggs said firmly, “the defense has been offered a settlement. We reject it. We will proceed to trial.”
The judge raised his brows. “You understand the risks?”
“We do,” Briggs said. “And as their lawyer, I will not let them plead guilty to crimes they did not commit.”
The courtroom buzzed. Callahan’s smile faltered, just for a heartbeat.
But the devil’s lawyer doesn’t break. He leans harder.
That afternoon, Callahan unleashed his counterstrike.
Ashley was walking out of the courthouse with her mother when the press swarmed. Out of nowhere, a reporter shoved a tablet in her face.
“Miss Miller, care to comment on these photos?”
On the screen: Ashley laughing at a football game with friends, posted to social media months ago. The caption had been twisted: “Does this look like a trafficking victim?”
Ashley froze, color draining from her face. Cameras clicked. Voices shouted:
“Are you faking?”
“Are the bikers paying you?”
“Are you just a troubled teen making it up?”
Marie tried to shield her daughter, but it was too late. By evening, the photos were everywhere. Talk shows dissected them. Commentators sneered. “She doesn’t look traumatized.”
Ashley locked herself in the hotel bathroom and refused to come out.
Briggs stormed into the pressroom, slamming his fist on the podium. “This is character assassination! Callahan and his clients are manipulating the media to destroy a child! As Ashley’s lawyer, I demand sanctions for this grotesque attack!”
But Callahan stood coolly on the opposite steps, hands raised. “We didn’t leak those photos. They were public record. If Miss Miller’s lawyer can’t handle scrutiny, perhaps he should reconsider putting her on the stand.”
The crowd cheered him.
Briggs looked like he might collapse.
That night, we bikers sat silent in the holding cell, listening to the echo of Ashley’s sobs from across town.
Big John finally broke the silence. “If she quits, we can’t blame her. They’re tearing her apart.”
Briggs shook his head. “If she quits, we lose. And Callahan knows it.”
He leaned forward, eyes blazing. “So tomorrow, I gamble. I’ll do something no lawyer should ever do. But if it works, it’ll turn this whole case upside down.”
“What kind of gamble?” I asked.
Briggs’ lips tightened. “I’ll put Callahan himself on the stand.”
The cell went dead quiet.
“Can you even do that?” Wolf asked.
Briggs nodded slowly. “Every lawyer leaves footprints. Emails, memos, calls. If I can prove he coached witnesses, doctored evidence, manipulated the press—I can subpoena him. It’s a long shot, but it’s the only shot we’ve got.”
The next morning, Callahan strutted into court as always, flawless suit, shark smile.
But when Briggs rose, voice ringing like a war drum, the room froze.
“Your honor,” he said, “the defense moves to subpoena opposing counsel, Richard Callahan, as a witness.”
The gallery gasped. Callahan’s smile cracked. The judge’s gavel thundered.
“Mr. Briggs,” the judge growled, “this is highly irregular. Lawyers don’t testify in their own cases.”
Briggs leaned on his cane, eyes blazing. “Not unless they’re part of the crime. And I intend to prove that Richard Callahan isn’t just a lawyer—he’s a conspirator.”
The room erupted.
Ashley’s eyes widened. The bikers grinned for the first time in weeks.
And Callahan, for the first time in his long, polished career, looked afraid.
Briggs shocks the courtroom by moving to subpoena Callahan himself, accusing the devil’s lawyer of being part of the conspiracy. If the judge allows it, the balance of power could shift. But if Briggs fails, the entire defense could collapse, leaving Ashley silenced forever.
