Chapter 306: wrapping up

Despite the rocky start, the gala had ended without incident. Lex remained until the evening drew to a close, making his rounds among the guests and maintaining the appearance of a man who had thoroughly enjoyed himself. Oliver, meanwhile, had kept his distance from Kieran, spending much of the evening speaking with other attendees and occasionally watching the hotel’s owner from across the ballroom. Neither man had caused a scene, and no one in attendance would have guessed that anything unpleasant had taken place between Kieran and Lex.

Two days had passed since then, and Nolan had yet to see or even feel the beginnings of a response from Luthor. No sudden changes to business arrangements, no unexpected visits, no suspicious movements that could be traced back to LexCorp. Nothing. Of course, two days was hardly enough time to draw any conclusions. A month from now, perhaps two, the situation could look very different. Lex Luthor was not known for being a forgiving man, but neither was he impulsive. He was patient, methodical, and accustomed to planning several moves ahead. If he intended to retaliate, Nolan doubted it would come in the form of an angry phone call or some crude attempt at intimidation. Lex would wait until he had found the most effective way to make his displeasure felt.

For now, Nolan had other concerns to address. Placing one of the newly acquired metahumans at each Continental would strengthen security considerably. It was a useful arrangement, but it didn’t address the more immediate problem: Metropolis still lacked the kind of management structure Nolan wanted. The hotel was operational, the staff were in place, and the opening had been a success, but a building was only as reliable as the people responsible for running it. He needed someone he could trust to oversee the day-to-day operations without requiring his constant attention.

"Jean."

Nolan stood near the windows of his penthouse, looking out over Metropolis. The city stretched beneath him, its towers catching the afternoon light while traffic moved along the streets far below. He had spent enough time in the city to recognize some of its landmarks, though it still felt unfamiliar compared to Gotham. There was a certain brightness to Metropolis, an openness that Gotham seemed to have spent centuries trying to bury. Even from this height, Nolan could see people moving through the streets without the same constant awareness of danger that seemed to define his hometown.

"Yes, sir?" Jean replied.

The young manager stood a few feet behind him, dressed in a crisp suit that fit the position he was about to assume. He had been selected to take over the managerial responsibilities at the Metropolis Continental, a considerable promotion for someone who had joined the Underpass only late last year. Jean had started at the original Gotham hotel, where he quickly distinguished himself through his aptitude for hospitality and an unexpected proficiency in combat. He understood the importance of presentation, knew how to handle demanding guests, and had demonstrated that he could keep his head when a situation became unpleasant. Those qualities had made him useful, but his performance had also caught Marcy’s attention.

She had originally recommended him for a managerial position in Gotham. Nolan, however, needed someone in Metropolis. If Marcy trusted Jean enough to put his name forward, Nolan was willing to give him the opportunity. That did not mean he intended to trust him blindly. The Underpass had grown too quickly, and Nolan had learned that competence and loyalty were not always the same thing. Jean would have to prove himself, just as everyone else had.

"I’ll be leaving for Star City," Nolan explained, turning away from the window. He opened a drawer in the desk and retrieved a folder, which he handed to Jean. "I want you to get everything here in order while I’m gone. The doctors assigned to the hotel will receive their identification and security details tonight. Make certain they’re properly briefed, that their access is established, and that they understand the procedures before they begin seeing clients. I don’t want anyone improvising because they weren’t given the necessary information."

Jean accepted the folder and opened it, briefly scanning the contents. The documents contained the assignments, identification procedures, and security arrangements for the medical staff. The doctors were an important part of the Continental’s operation, particularly for guests who needed discreet treatment and had no intention of visiting a conventional hospital. Their identities and qualifications had been checked, their backgrounds examined, and their references verified. The same scrutiny applied to everyone employed by the hotel, from the people responsible for cleaning the guest rooms to those who would be treating its most unusual visitors. Nobody was exempt from the process. Every employee had access to only what they needed, and everyone was expected to understand that their conduct was monitored.

"Of course, sir. I’ll make certain everything is ready."

"If a contract comes through for Metropolis while I’m away, one of the other managers will contact you. Don’t make any decisions outside your authority, but don’t hesitate to act when something requires your attention. I don’t expect you to solve every problem alone, Jean. I expect you to recognize which problems need solving and know who to contact."

"I understand."

Nolan studied him for a moment. Jean seemed composed, though there was a trace of tension in his posture. It was hardly surprising. He was being handed responsibility for an entire hotel, and the consequences of mishandling that responsibility could extend well beyond a dissatisfied guest or a poor review. The Continental was not an ordinary establishment, and its managers were expected to understand that distinction.

"I realize I’m leaving you with a lot while you’re still getting accustomed to the position," Nolan said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "But Marcy believes in you, and so do I. That recommendation carries weight. Don’t make me regret agreeing with her."

Jean straightened slightly. "Thank you, sir. I won’t let either of you down."

"Good." Nolan gave his shoulder a final pat before returning his attention to the city beyond the windows. "Then let’s see how you do."

****

By the time Nolan reached Star City, Dre’s trial had become an exercise in patience. He sat near the back of the courthouse, watching as Dre entered with his lawyer, Irving Brooks, and made his way towards the defense table. The proceedings had dragged on far longer than Nolan had anticipated. The prosecution seemed increasingly unwilling to accept the possibility of losing, and with each passing day its case grew more desperate. Witnesses had been questioned and re-questioned, old statements dragged back into the courtroom, and circumstantial details presented with the enthusiasm of someone trying to convince a jury that enough coincidences eventually became proof. Nolan had even heard that the prosecution was attempting to introduce evidence that had been barely mentioned during the earlier proceedings.

Funny how that worked. And Dre was supposed to be the criminal.

Dre looked worse for wear. His shoulders were stiff, his expression sour, and there was a heaviness to his movements that had little to do with physical exhaustion. Nolan knew the man well enough to recognize how much he hated being there. Dre was boastful and proud, accustomed to standing his ground and making his own decisions. He could handle a dangerous neighborhood, a hostile gang, or a man with a gun pointed at his chest. Being forced to sit quietly while strangers dissected his life, questioned his character, and debated whether he deserved to be free was an entirely different kind of punishment. He was trapped in a system where the rules were decided by other people, and every instinct he possessed was telling him to get up and walk out.

But he hadn’t. He had followed the conditions of his release, attended every hearing, and allowed Irving to handle the fight. That alone was an accomplishment.

Nolan had arrived in Star City with a decision already made. After reviewing Amanda’s reports and hearing how the jury had responded to the prosecution’s witnesses, he had given Irving the instruction to bring the defense to an end. There was little value in continuing to drag the proceedings out. Amanda’s work had been encouraging, and the jury appeared increasingly receptive to the defense’s arguments. The prosecution had spent so much time trying to establish a connection between Dre and a larger criminal organization that it had begun to lose sight of the actual charges. Every attempt to make him appear more dangerous had also made the case against him seem less concrete.

Now it simply needed to end. Dre would be needed in the weeks ahead, and Nolan had no intention of allowing the trial to consume any more of his time than necessary.

Irving took his place beside Dre and arranged the papers in front of him. He looked as composed as ever, his narrow face giving little away as he exchanged a few quiet words with his client. Dre listened with an expression that suggested he would rather be anywhere else. When Irving finished, he gave a small nod and turned towards the judge.

The judge looked down at the docket before raising his eyes towards the defense table. "Mr. Brooks, does the defense intend to call any further witnesses?"

"No, Your Honour."

"And are you prepared to rest your case?"

Irving stood. "Yes, Your Honour. The defense rests."

The words were simple, but Nolan felt the shift in the room immediately. After weeks of testimony and argument, the case had finally reached its final stage. The prosecution had no further opportunity to challenge the defense through additional witnesses, and the jury would soon be asked to consider what had actually been established in court.

The judge glanced towards the prosecution before looking back at Irving. "Very well. We will proceed to closing arguments. Counsel, are both sides prepared?"

The prosecutor rose first. "The prosecution is ready, Your Honour."

Irving stood a moment later. "The defense is ready."

"Then you may proceed. The prosecution will give its closing argument first."

The prosecutor approached the jury, carrying a thick folder of notes. He paused before beginning, allowing his eyes to travel across the twelve people seated before him. Nolan watched from the back of the courtroom, his expression unreadable. The prosecution had spent weeks trying to convince those people that Dre Matthews was more than a man accused of a crime; that he was a dangerous figure whose influence stretched beyond the streets of Star City. Now it would have to convince them that the evidence supported the charges.

Dre leaned back in his chair, jaw tight. Irving remained standing, one hand resting lightly against the defense table, waiting for his turn.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, over the course of this trial, you’ve heard a great deal about Mr. Matthews. You’ve heard about his reputation, his associations, and the organization that the prosecution believes he helped establish here in Star City. You’ve heard witnesses describe his presence in areas where criminal activity has taken place, and you’ve heard testimony concerning the events that brought us into this courtroom."

He paused, looking from one juror to the next.

"The defense would have you believe that these things are unrelated. That Mr. Matthews is simply a businessman who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. That the people who associate with him are independent actors, and that the circumstances surrounding the charges against him are nothing more than a collection of unfortunate coincidences. But I ask you to consider the evidence as a whole. Consider the pattern. Consider the people who have appeared before you, and consider what their testimony tells us about the man sitting at that table."

Nolan watched Dre’s jaw tighten. The prosecutor was doing exactly what he had expected: leaning heavily on reputation and association, hoping the jury would fill the gaps that the evidence itself had failed to bridge. It was a familiar tactic, and not an entirely ineffective one. People were inclined to believe that where there was smoke, there must be fire. The difficulty was convincing them that smoke was enough to put someone in prison.

"Mr. Matthews would have you believe that he has no connection to the criminal activity we’ve discussed throughout these proceedings. Yet the prosecution has established that he maintained relationships with individuals involved in those activities, that he was present in relevant locations, and that his movements were consistent with someone exercising influence over the people around him and let’s not forget Mr. Matthew’s was found at the scene with a unregistered fire arm. You do not have to accept every explanation offered by the defense. You are entitled to use your common sense, to examine the circumstances, and to draw reasonable conclusions from the evidence presented."

He moved a few steps closer to the jury box.

"And when you do, I believe you will find that the prosecution has met its burden. We are not asking you to convict Mr. Matthews because you dislike him, because you fear him, or because you believe he may have been involved in other wrongdoing. We are asking you to consider the charges before you and the evidence that supports them. At the end of these proceedings, the question is not whether Mr. Matthews has a reputation. The question is whether he committed the crimes alleged. The prosecution believes the evidence has answered that question."

He returned to his table and gathered his papers. It was a polished closing, carefully worded to avoid directly asking the jury to punish Dre for being a suspected criminal. Nevertheless, the implication was clear. The prosecutor wanted them to look at Dre and see the organization behind him, whether or not he had managed to establish that connection beyond a reasonable doubt.

Nolan glanced towards Irving. The defense attorney had not moved. He sat with his hands resting on the table, apparently studying the notes in front of him. Dre leaned towards him and muttered something, but Irving barely acknowledged it. He was waiting for the right moment.

The judge looked towards the defense table. "Mr. Brooks, you may proceed."

Irving rose, straightened his jacket, and collected a single sheet of paper. Unlike the prosecutor, he carried no thick folder of notes and made no attempt to fill the silence immediately. He looked towards the jury, then briefly towards Dre before stepping out from behind the table.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I want to begin by agreeing with something my colleague just said. You should use your common sense. You should examine the evidence as a whole, consider the testimony, and draw reasonable conclusions. That is precisely what the law asks you to do." He paused. "But there is something else the law asks of you, something considerably more important. Before you can find Mr. Matthews guilty, the prosecution must prove that he committed the crimes with which he has been charged. Not that he might have committed them. Not that he associates with people who might have committed them. Not that he has a reputation that makes the allegations seem believable. It must prove them."

Irving let that settle before continuing.

"And it must prove them beyond a reasonable doubt."

He placed the sheet of paper on the table beside him. "That standard exists for a reason. It exists because the consequences of a criminal conviction are enormous. A guilty verdict does not simply mean that someone loses an argument or pays a fine. It means the government takes away their liberty. It means a person can lose years of their life, their livelihood, and their ability to return to their family. That is not a decision we make because something feels suspicious. It is not a decision we make because we dislike the defendant or because we think he might be the sort of person who could commit a crime."

His eyes moved briefly towards the prosecution table.

"My colleague has spoken at length about patterns. About associations. About influence. He has asked you to look at the people around Mr. Matthews and consider what their presence might mean. But I would ask you to consider something else. Where, exactly, is the evidence that Mr. Matthews committed the crimes alleged? Where is the witness who saw him give the order? Where is the record showing that he directed the actions the prosecution has spent weeks discussing? Where is the reliable testimony establishing that he knowingly participated in the conduct for which he stands accused?"

He turned towards the jury box.

"You have heard a great deal about what the prosecution believes Mr. Matthews represents. You have heard what investigators suspect, what witnesses have inferred, and what the state thinks his associations suggest. But suspicion is not evidence. An inference is not proof simply because it is presented confidently, and a man’s reputation cannot be substituted for the facts."

Irving began walking slowly along the front of the courtroom. He did not raise his voice, nor did he try to make the jury feel sorry for Dre. He was not interested in presenting his client as a saint. That would have been a foolish undertaking, and everyone in the room knew it.

"I am not going to stand here and tell you that Mr. Matthews is a perfect man. I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending that he is. He has lived a life that has brought him into contact with people and circumstances that many of you would rather avoid. You have heard about his work, his reputation, and the places where he has spent his time. But this trial was never supposed to be about whether you approve of Mr. Matthews’s life. It was supposed to be about whether the prosecution could prove the charges against him."

He stopped near the center of the room.

"Consider the testimony of the witnesses. Consider how many times you were asked to accept an assumption as fact. Consider the questions that went unanswered. When the prosecution brought its witnesses before you, it had an opportunity to establish a clear account of Mr. Matthews’s alleged involvement. Instead, we heard about people who knew other people, about events that took place in places Mr. Matthews had visited, and about activities that the prosecution could not reliably connect to him."

Nolan’s attention sharpened. Irving was careful not to overstate his case. He was not claiming that the prosecution had no evidence at all, only that the evidence did not establish what it needed to establish. It was a difficult distinction to maintain, particularly when the jury had already spent weeks hearing about Dre’s alleged connections. But Irving was good at his job, and he knew where the prosecution’s case was weakest.

"Think about the owner of the game room who testified earlier in these proceedings. The prosecution called that witness expecting you to hear one thing. They wanted you to believe that his testimony would establish Mr. Matthews’s involvement in criminal activity. But what did you actually hear? You heard a man explain that Mr. Matthews had entered his establishment and asked to use the restroom. When asked about the circumstances, he did not provide the account the prosecution wanted. He did not identify an order, describe an agreement, or testify that Mr. Matthews had directed him to do anything unlawful."

Irving turned slightly towards the prosecution.

"Perhaps the state will suggest that this witness was afraid. Perhaps they will suggest that someone influenced his testimony. But you cannot convict a man because you believe a witness might have been frightened. You cannot replace what a witness actually said with what you think he would have said if he were braver. If the prosecution believes that witness lied, it was their responsibility to establish that. They cannot simply ask you to disregard inconvenient testimony because it failed to support their theory."

A few jurors shifted in their seats. Nolan noticed one of them glance towards Dre before returning her attention to Irving. Dre remained still, though his fingers had begun tapping against the table. He was impatient, but he understood enough to know that Irving was doing well.

"The prosecution has repeatedly asked you to look beyond the individual pieces of evidence and see a larger picture. Very well. Look at the larger picture. A man enters a business and uses the restroom. That becomes suspicious because of who he is. A person is acquainted with Mr. Matthews, and their conduct becomes evidence of his influence. He is seen in a particular neighborhood, and suddenly his presence is treated as proof that he must have been directing whatever happened there. Every ordinary action is given an extraordinary meaning because the prosecution has already decided what sort of man it believes Mr. Matthews to be."

Irving allowed a brief silence.

"That is not how this works. You are not here to decide whether the prosecution’s theory is interesting, or whether it might be true. You are here to decide whether it has been proven. And if there is a reasonable doubt, the law tells you exactly what to do."

He returned to the defense table and rested one hand on its edge.

"Mr. Matthews does not have to prove his innocence. He does not have to explain every person he has ever met, every place he has ever visited, or every decision he has ever made. The burden belongs to the prosecution. It has always belonged to the prosecution, and it remains there now. I ask you to put aside speculation, to look at the actual evidence, and to return the only verdict that the evidence supports."

Irving gave a small nod towards the jury.

"Not guilty."