“You may be tired, but you're not so very old.

  We can make changes to the course of this road.

  If you’re keeping your heart and mind open,

  and never stop wishing and hoping.

  Our children depend on us all.

  Let’s teach them to answer the call.

  Time is running fast,

  but we're learning at last.

  Let your heart always shine

  and keep it with mine.

  ~ “Keep It With Mine” Threshold

  Upon returning to the courtroom, Mac was there waiting for me pointing at his watch. After apologizing and letting him know my reason for being late, he teased me about my lack of video taking skills. A small group of people waited outside the courtroom on this day so Jackson was unable to taunt me any further. Mac tapped me on the shoulder when he noticed the courtroom doors open and people started quickly filing inside. Watching the door, I saw Anya behind Claudine Courtney walking with Jackson right behind her but when she saw me, a look of fear filled her face before entering. What surprised me wasn’t only the look on her face but the fact she made eye contact with me, something she hasn’t done before in court. Was she really afraid of me or was she putting on an act? When Jackson put his hand on her shoulder to guide her inside, I still didn’t know what to make of it. Was she afraid this hearing would reveal things she possibly never communicated to Jackson about us? That this would all get back to her children? Why was I suddenly feeling bad for her at a time I couldn’t afford to? Seeing the look on her face, not knowing what it meant, puzzled me to a point I started craving a pill for the first time in over a year.

  Seeing all those inside the courtroom, it seemed a long day in court awaited us. Five minutes after we entered, the bailiff instructed us to stand for the honorable Maria Ann Moone. When the long dark-haired judge, wearing an oversized robe, appeared, I raised my eyes to the sky knowing how my last experience with a female judge, and likely mother, went. Looking over at Mac, he smiled wryly before patting me on the back seemingly reassuring “it won’t matter”. The minute Judge Moone sat down she got right down to business, and an hour later, we had the courtoom to ourselves after all others quickly received continuances or dismissals. At that point, the court clerk, a petite, blonde short-haired female stood before us and started. speaking.

  “Number Nine on Department Fifteen’s calendar.” she announced. “Anya Caiaphas, Landyn Lastman, NQ-Zero-Two-Three-Five-Two-Eight.”

  “Let’s have the parties and counsel take their seats...well, stand at the counsel table.” Instructed Judge Moone as she hovered above us. “Let the record reflect the parties are present at the counsel table. I’ll have counsel state their appearances.”

  “Claudine Courtney, on behalf of petitioner, Anya Caiaphas.”

  “Mac Simon on behalf of the respondent, Landyn Lastman.”

  “Okay.” acknowledged Judge Moone. “Parties raise their right hands to be sworn in.”

  The bailiff cleared his throat before speaking. “You do, and each of you, solemnly state that the testimony you may give in the case now pending before the court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  As Anya and I both replied “I do.” it was hard to believe after our deeply loving relationship that these words would be announced before a judge rather than a priest. I had to give Anya credit this time--she didn’t meekly reply like she did at the first restraining order hearing, providing hope she may be honest this time around.

  “All right.” said Judge Moone before we sat down. “We’re here on a request for a restraining order that was filed by the petitioner on December Sixth, Two Thousand Seventeen. I don’t believe any temporary orders were issued. And there is a stipulation for the relationship between the parties that it was a dating relationship.”

  “So stipulated, your Honor.” replied Mac.

  Judge Moone nodded her head before continuing. “All right. You can call your first witness, Miss Courtney.”

  “We would call Landyn Lastman, your Honor.”

  Before I could even stand, Mac stuck out his arm to signal me to stop, then cleared his throat before addressing the court. “Your Honor, I would ask for an offer of proof. The application for the temporary order was denied and there has been no change that we’re aware of for the court to consider.”

  Mac’s attempt to quash the proceedings before they began caught me by surprise. He was right though—how could this case even be heard? Our relationship was several years ago now, and we're no longer in a "dating" relationship—a stipulation for this type of restraining order request. I also never reached out to Anya or Jackson; another stipulation not met. This was clearly not a restraining order type case but rather a case for slander or libel. The problem for them was that absolutely nothing I wrote was knowingly false and the story was essentially an unpublished work pitched as fiction, although it wasn’t. For the judge to decide on hearing their request for a restraining order made me extremely suspicious of it being another inside job, especially now knowing of Donald Holbert’s unmeasured involvement.

  “Well, no, that’s not how it works, Counsel.” Judge Moone responded, shaking her head. “If the temporary orders are not granted, it’s because the court wants to hear evidence. There is not enough of a showing or there is not enough of an emergency for the court to issue temporary orders. So, I don’t need an offer of proof at this point.”

  Mac did not nod or appear to accept the judge’s ruling before sitting down in quiet resignation.

  “So, Mr. Lastman, come on up to the witness stand please.” she instructed as I rose before walking over to the witness chair. “Stop right there, raise your right hand to be sworn.”

  When she asked for me to raise my right hand to be sworn in, it started to feel a little strange—didn't we just do this a few minutes ago? Why was she asking me to do this twice when the only liars in the room were the cheaters requesting the restraining order? After she quickly shut down Mac’s common sense inquiry, there was a foreboding sense of familiarity with this process, making me wary of what was to come. They were requesting a stay away order after staying away from them for over six years? There was no evidence supporting any action by me warranting a stay away order request. What was she really seeking?

  The female court clerk stood up and looked me in the eyes before speaking. “Landyn Lastman, called as a witness by the people, do you solemnly swear that the testimony you may give in the case now pending before this court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  “I do.” I stated loudly, stopping myself from asking why I needed to repeat this.

  “State your full name, please and spell your last name.” she continued.

  “Landyn Lastman. L-A-S-T-M-A-N.” I anxiously obliged.

  Judge Moone looked to Claudine Courtney then nodded. “You may proceed.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Claudine approached, I saw Anya sitting directly before me and Jackson fidgeting about in his seat right behind her. Seeing Anya in my direct line of sight brought me back to the many times we couldn't take our eyes off each other. How to this very day I still found it impossible to not recall our dinner in San Francisco--her eyes gazing into mine with excitement and wonder; how her presence alone made me feel like the luckiest man in the world. Now, here we were again before one another, but looking through each other, disconnected by her design; bringing to life her veiled threat that evening “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t move on.” If she could never understand why I couldn’t move on from the way she made me feel at the times her eyes were lost in mine, she couldn't have ever understood anything about my love for her. I wanted her to stand up and push back on Jackson, and all others in the courtroom, and announce the truth about me, the truth about us. How our love was beyond unworthy of this kind of acknowledgement. I wanted the woman, who claimed she believed in our love, to make a stand while I took the stand. She knew I didn’t belong up here and how my place should be occupied instead by the man shadowing her. But, I was never Anya’s master, Jackson was. I didn't pay her bills or provide for her children, he did--the pact she made with him to stay together because of that alone. Unknown to me, Anya was high maintenance, if not for herself anymore, for her kids, and Jackson bought her years ago after leading me to believe for two years nothing could be further from the truth. As I sat before her once again, the schism between the Anya I still loved and the Anya who hid the truth was all too real, but was she ever real? The one side, carrying within my suit pocket my love for her, and the other side, the disconnected one now staring through her, who felt duped, betrayed, manipulated, controlled, gaslit and lied to. On this day, I could only hope the second part of me dies, just so the part dwelling inside my suit pocket survives.

  “Mr. Lastman, are you familiar with the person by the name of Anya Caiaphas?” Asked Claudine.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “And is Anya Caiaphas sitting to my left?”

  “Yes.” I replied, giving a quick nod before getting lost in her for a few seconds.

  “Some time around Two-Thousand and Six did you meet Mrs. Caiaphas?”

  “Yes.” I responded, not having to think about it.

  “And did you begin at that time a brief relationship with her?”

  “A two year relationship.” I quickly responded, agitated by the question.

  “Is that a “yes””?

  “It’s actually a “No”.” I reiterated shaking my head, frustrated by her characterization knowing Jackson couldn't even remain faithful to her within the first two years of their marriage. “A two year relationship is not a brief relationship. It was a significant relationship. Sorry.”

  “Between the years Two-Thousand and Six and Two-Thousand and Seventeen, have you had restraining orders issued against you? Preventing you from contacting Mrs. Caiaphas?” Claudine Courtney dug in further, attempting to incite me.

  “I did for the years Two-Thousand and Eleven to Two-Thousand and Sixteen--ending October Two-Thousand and Sixteen.” I clarified, hoping to expose Claudine’s exagerration tactics to Judge Moone.

  “Did you have an order in Two-Thousand and Nine?” she pressed further.

  “No…at least not that I was aware of. I didn’t receive any kind of notification.” I answered.

  “All right." interrupted Judge Moone. "So, for the court’s information, are we talking about orders NQ-Zero-One-Three-Four-Three that appears to have been earlier in Two-Thousand Nine?”

  “Yes, your Honor.” confirmed Claudine.

  “And then there was a separate criminal protective order?” Judge Moone inquired further, her eyes looking down at a document before her.

  “Correct.” verified Courtney.

  “In Three-LG-Zero-One-Four-One?”

  “I believe, Yes.” replied Claudine, sounding a bit unsure. “There was a criminal complaint filed against him.”

  “That would be for the Three-LG case?”

  “That was for the violation, your Honor.” added Courtney, perking up a bit.

  “Okay. Actually, I’ll have my courtroom assistant pull those two files, and then the court will take judicial notice.” Judge Moone stated, her oversized black robe sleeves flapping about. “All right. Go ahead and proceed.”

  Claudine Courtney jumped on this opportunity to misdirect Judge Moone who seemed unprepared, if not entirely unfamiliar with my case, into believing there were two restraining orders granted against me and I was guilty of violating one of them. The alleged violation should not even be brought to the court’s attention--it was dismissed after finishing the diversion program. Why would I go through the time and trouble accepting then successfully completing a diversion program if the court would just look upon it being the same as a conviction? Claudine’s purposeful mention of it should immediately be stricken from the record. Her intentional mischaracterization of the history of granted restraining orders against me spanning over eleven years instead of five was why the dedications were posted in the first place! Notwithstanding the general frivolousness nature of her line of questioning--even after removing the dedications entirely from the website. Was her strategy to misguide Judge Moone for the true reason why the dedications were removed? To get her to believe they were taken down by me because they were not true? That I removed them to try to save my ass from a defamation charge instead of taking them down solely for Katie and Andrew's sake? As an intense agitation grew within, I fought back against the building disgust, trying desperately to avoid giving a potentially biased and easily duped female judge all the evidence she needed to find me worthy of another five year restraining order—just for writing dedications to defend myself.

  “Mr. Lastman.” continued Claudine, her eyes glaring into mine. “You were convicted in this very court house of a violation of the restraining order issued against you; correct?”

  “No.” I stated, shaking my head, my eyes never leaving hers. “I was never convicted for violating the restraining order.”

  “I’m going to object.” interjected Mac. “It calls for a legal conclusion.”

  “Counsel, let me just take judicial notice of the file once I get it.” answered Judge Moone to address Claudine Courtney, ignoring Mac. “Just move on with your questioning.”

  “Okay. The order of protection that was issued against you in Orange County expired in October of Two-Thousand Sixteen, correct?” Claudine asked me.

  I nodded. “That’s correct.”

  “And in November of Two-Thousand Sixteen, you authored a book by the title of “The Passion Particle”; Correct?”

  I leaned in to the microphone before speaking. “Yes, I did.”

  “Passion what?” inquired Judge Moone.

  “Passion Particle.” Claudine verified.

  “The Passion Particle”. I chimed in, smiling, finding it comical having my novel’s title mentioned in the courtroom.

  “Your Honor, I’m going to object.” interrupted Mac who adjusted his glasses before addressing me. “Mr. Lastman, if you could wait until I’ve had a chance to object. I’ll object—too vague as to time.”

  “I thought Counsel said November of two thousand sixteen?” wondered Judge Moone, genuinely confused.

  “I did.” Claudine Courtney confirmed.

  Judge Moone then shook her head. “Overruled.”

  “I’ve been writing the book since two thousand fourteen.” I offered--maybe not the best of ideas.

  “And you published what?” Claudine posed to me.

  “I publish a chapter every…about two a month.” I responded, trying to be as accurate as possible. “But now I’ve been so busy, it’s once a month if I even post chapters at all. I really don’t have the time to do it much anymore.”

  “So, the book, “The Passion Particle”, is a fictitious book, correct?”

  After this question, Anya peered up at me with a look of defeat in her eyes. Here was my chance to bury her for not disclosing all she should have told me before allowing me to fall deeply in love with her. To avenge for all her half truths, for telling me she was only there because no one would be with her if she were to leave without telling me she was there for what Jackson provides her kids with. For her decision to not disclose the reasons for her never leaving a philanderer without telling me it was because she believes she's better than the general public--who have left their spouses for much less. For allowing me to fall deeply in love with her before she went to Tenerife with her husband, leaving me feeling abandoned and even betrayed. For telling me she missed me, yet went on a girls trip to Mammoth, choosing not to contact me until I started to wonder and ask questions. For allowing me to fall madly in love with her without telling me an adult decision to be together would rest in the hands of a twelve and ten year old. Here was my chance to put an end to her lies forever. To let her know the kind of man she married, is the one she should do these unfathomable things to. To show her if she thought Jackson coming after me, an honest man, was a rational act of protecting her, she had it wrong. I know what love is and I know it would never cheat on her, unlike the scumbag behind her.

  “That’s correct.” I perjured myself. “It’s my life story and a bit of a memoir, but ultimately it’s a book of fiction.”

  I couldn't pull the trigger--the book wasn't about venegance; it was about telling my story and to hopefully help those who may find themselves in the same predicament. It was an opportunity to clarify the nature of the book and to better protect her privacy, remembering I described it as a "ninety percent" true story before removing the dedications. For some reason, I recalled the time she tracked me down in Vegas, even showing up at my hotel with her daughter after losing my phone and couldn't respond to her. Anya did some very loving things for me, that time being one of them--the reason why the necklace rests against my heart at this moment. Hoping against all hope her love will somehow shine through the darkness of these proceedings--revealing why she sent me the heart pendant. Sometimes the pain I felt made me forget the times I failed her. But, if she feared we'd never be together, all I wanted was that honesty from her before falling in love with her, so I'd at least know what to expect--if not the precise ending to our story. She denied me the chance to understand her decision by choosing not to disclose the real reasons she was still with Jackson, even after asking for them from her before we reconnected. I trusted her with my life the same way she trusted me with hers. I could've never imagined her love would leave me losing all the hope I ever had in the goodness of this world--even bringing me closer to becoming a mysoginist. Not only was this entirely underserved, it's beyond maddening knowing the man sitting behind her was the one who deserved to feel these very things.

  “That book was published on a book publishing website, correct?” inquired Claudine.

  “That’s correct.”

  “And isn’t it true that on November Twenty-First Two-Thousand Sixteen, you published a dedication to that book to Katie and Andrew Caiaphas?”

  I nodded. “Among others, yes.”

  “And who are Katie and Andrew Caiaphas?”

  “That is Anya’s and Jackson’s daughter and son.” I replied, knowing exactly where Claudine was taking this.

  “You don’t know them personally, do you?”

  “No, I don’t.” I told her, ready to throw a monkey wrench in her line of questioning. “But I was invited to Katie’s recital some years back.”

  After announcing my appearance at Katie's recital, it contradicted my protection of Anya by claiming earlier the novel was fictional. Especially after seeing an outraged Jackson quickly rise from his seat after telling this to the court. Anya clearly never told him she invited me to her daughter's recital, believing I came there in an intentional act of stalking Anya and Katie. Little did he know, he couldn't have been more deceived by his wife about anything. My response to Claudine's question was entirely inspired by the fact Anya told me no one wanted to be with her because she had "baggage" and then over two years shared the daily lives of her kids with me. This not only made me feel extremely special and important but made me fall in love with them too. The last thing I ever wanted her to believe for a second was that her kids were a liability in my eyes--they were too much a part of her to ever be a burden. I even met Andrew for a brief moment after accidently running into her at the bookstore and she even teased me for leaving the store so quickly. Little did I know she judged me for my ability to provide for them, the reason her own husband called her "high maintenance". They had to go to the best schools, stay at the best hotels, live in the best neighborhoods, be part of the popular crowd and to have the resources to be great at what they do. That they should be able to grab at one of her fifty purses at their leisure and buy what they wanted while they're out and about on family vacations and other excursions. And who wouldn't want that for their kids? I wanted that for them too, but if that's what mattered most to her, then tell me why she referred to them as "baggage" and why she considered herself a liability instead of an asset. That this material bullshit they learned was the reason why her being with me would break their hearts. The entire time I felt she was unnecessarily putting herself down and not sending me a pointed message while omitting the true reason behind its intention. Manipulations were a part of her arsenal though, especially after telling me Lance broke up with her because she had kids, giving the impression she believed they were baggage when nothing could've been further from reality. Unknown to me, Lance was privy to her inner circle, an inside trader with knowledge of her legendary high maintenance requirements--why she viewed me as an easy target; an outsider and controllable ignorant fool. It started to seem, with a life that centered itself around politics, its evil consumed her before our love ever had a chance, if it ever did.

  An argument could be made she loved me too much to put that burden on me. An even better argument could be made she wanted to experience our love without children around--very likely considering the strain kids put on any marriage, expecially one where a sense of deep betrayal existed. Her feelings for me were real, there was no uncertainty there, tasting them in the form of her tears, and could even be viewed as the driving force for her omissions. The Anya I fell in love with was thoughtful enough to feel guilty about her kids being a burden on me and taking time away from us. Little did I know that in the end, Anya always knew what she was up against, externally and internally, and chose to let me figure them all out on my own after falling deeply in love with her, just so she could point a finger if I lost my mind. She also always knew what I offered monetarily was less than Jackson the very minute she allowed and encouraged me to fall in love with her. And, she undoubtedly knew how badly I'd be broken by her knowing our eventual ending in advance because of all she withheld from me. Another reason for my burgeoning new views of the female species, let alone love. If Jackson's money held dominion over her and she carried these extreme needs for her children centered solely on his wealth, she had to be honest about that--the real reason why she was never ambivalent to her marriage. Instead she left me to figure out her purposeful omissions on my own, leaving me with monstrous feelings of betrayal in the end. Leaving what could've been "to each their own" to leaving each other to our own devices. This trial bringing to life the cold hard truth about her life and my desperate need to reconcile who she really was.

  This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “Sir, I’m going to ask you a direct question, if you don’t mind answering.” said Claudine as she walked quickly towards me.

  Taken aback by Claudine giving me the option to answer, I propped myself up. “Sure.”

  “I’m sorry, I missed the connection.” interceded Judge Moone. “So, Katie and Andrew Caiaphas are Mrs. Caiaphas’s children?”

  “Correct.” Claudine replied.

  “Okay.”

  How did Judge Moone miss this obvious connection? Was she even paying attention? Was Judge Moone presiding over this trial from the moon itself? Or did she realize as much as I did, this trial was an absolute joke? That there was something else going on here?

  When Claudine referred to me as "Sir" before giving me the option to answer, it made me regret mentioning my attendance at Katie's recital. For all I knew, Jackson pushed for this trial to gather information to use against Anya in divorce proceedings. It then occurred to me Claudine's line of questioning could possibly be done in protection of Anya and not specifically meant to harass me. At this moment, I decided to put my frustration with Anya aside and focus on what laid against my heart within my suit's pocket.

  “And in that dedication to Katie and Andrew Caiaphas.” continued Claudine, stepping closer to the stand. “You tell them, or you publish, that their father is a classic manipulator, narcissist, sociopath and psychopath. Correct?”

  I couldn’t recall if I described Jackson as such in their dedication, but I definitely did in his. Which led me to believe Katie and Andrew never viewed the dedication I wrote them, but Jackson surely did. When she asked me this question, I wanted to respond with what about the things he called me when he actually contacted my father? Claudine had the letter; she could see it for herself, not to mention I never sent my dedication to Katie and Andrew--essentially placing it inside a bottle and throwing it into the Pacific. After being asked this question I naturally gazed at Anya. In my heart and mind, she was the true victim of his manipulative, narcissistic, sociopathic and psychopathic ways--why I fought so hard for her to see the good in us. He was even still manipulating her into believing loving a man, like myself, who would’ve never dreamt of dishonoring her, was no good for her or her kids. Anya was unwilling to acknowledge this fact because she would have to break the heart of her kids. I just wish she made me aware of this before allowing and encouraging me to fall deeply in love with her. As Jackson stared me down from behind her, my disgust with his false self-righteousness inspired a pointed response.

  “The shoe fits. Correct.” I nodded. “Now did Katie and Andrew actually see the dedication? Sounds to me like only their father saw it.”

  “Well, hang on a second, Sir. That’s not the question." admonished Judge Moone. "You don’t get to ask the questions, actually.”

  “I’m sorry.” I replied, putting my hands in the air to assure her I was doing my best to maintain decorum in her courtroom while she ignored Jackson's theatrics behind Anya. In my mind, Claudine's question had no relevancy in a request for a restraining order hearing. Writing those things about Jackson only represented an opinion of mine and if he believed them to be false, then sue me for slander. Why was this being asked in a hearing for a stay away order? When Judge Moone mocked my use of the word "actually", she appearred to be close minded to my query; allowing me to doubt her impartiality.

  “I’m sure your attorney warned you, and I will warn you as well that when the court rules on matters, they consider not only what is said in the courtroom but how people act in the courtroom” continued Judge Moone, leading me to have Teri Shamm flashbacks.

  “I understand.” I told her, fighting back the urge to ask if it’s okay to defend myself.

  “Alright. So, wait for the question.” she scolded further. “Do you have a copy of the dedication you want to mark as an exhibit?”

  “Yes, your Honor.” replied Claudine Courtney, pulling out a piece of paper from a folder. “I have a court copy. If the court would like a copy—I gave counsel a copy. I was going to make one.”

  “Alright, so we’ll mark Katie and Andrew’s dedication as Petitioner’s Exhibit Number One.” acknowledged Judge Moone after Claudine handed her a pack of documents or future exhibits. “Okay, please continue your questioning, Counsel.”

  “This dedication that you authored for Katie and Andrew Caiaphas, you also state that their mother and father’s marriage is not founded on love, but rather fear and deceit.” stated Claudine, reading from a piece of paper she held while facing me. “That their marriage lacks loyalty, trust and respect that has simply hurt and disrupted lives around it, correct?”

  “You can include my life in that statement as well.” I replied, unable to contain my emotions.

  “You also indicated in that dedication they needed to know their mother is a victim of emotional abuse from the destructive mind of their father. Correct?”

  I looked at Anya for a few seconds and patted my suit pocket before answering.

  “That’s correct.” I replied. "All because she fell in love with a man who honored her, unlike her husband, doesn't mean she doesn't love her children."

  “Counsel, if you could just point to which paragraph” interjected Judge Moone, using her index finger while scanning the document.

  “Sure, your Honor. On the third page sort of the middle section.” directed Claudine.

  “Alright. Found it. Thank you.”

  “Sure.”

  I wanted to advise the Judge to read the entire dedication so Claudine’s choice paragraphs weren’t taken out of context—a tactic she's used in the past. What I wrote in the dedications didn’t come out of thin air to harass anyone or instigate a fight. They were only meant to defend myself from their harassments. I knew Claudine's game, refusing to let her play it this time around.

  “You indicate that their father has disrespected, dishonored and shamed Mrs. Caiaphas for years." she stated. "Correct?"

  “From what Anya has told me about him—that is correct.”

  “I’m asking you whether you put this in your dedication.” retorted Claudine.

  “I’m just letting the court know what I wrote was not known to be false—it's what I was told. The reason why I’m sitting here today answering your questions.” I pushed back. “And the answer to that particular question is “yes”.”

  “I’m going to mark as Exhibit Number Two the dedication to Jackson Caiaphas.” Claudine notified Judge Moone.

  “I’m sorry, which one?" inquired Judge Moone, a look of confusion on her face again as she sifted through the documents Claudine handed her. "Because the one I have in the package says dedication to Anya Caiaphas.”

  “I’m going to skip over that one. It should be the third one.”

  “Okay. Sorry.” acknowledged Judge Moone, marking the exhibit. “Go ahead, Counsel.”

  “Thank you.” replied Claudine, clearing her throat before addressing me again. “Did you, in fact, author a dedication to Mr. Caiaphas, in your book, “The Passion Particle”?”

  I nodded before speaking. “Yes, I did.”

  “And this dedication was also published on the publishing website?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And isn’t it true that in this dedication you state that Mr. Caiaphas cheated on his wife when she was pregnant with their second child, correct?”

  “That’s what I was told.” I nodded."Yes."

  “I’m just asking if you have written this.” snapped Claudine.

  “Yes, I did.” I confirmed, offering no apology. "In fact, if it'll save the court some time, I'll take full responsibility right now for writing the entire dedication instead of going through each cherrypicked sentence."

  I knew what Claudine Courtney was trying to do—to convince the court the statements I wrote were knowingly false. If they were successful in this endeavor, Jackson could make good on his threat and sue me for slander. It also seemed Judge Moone was unaware the dedications were taken down after Claudine asked me to remove them--instead angling to the court they were still up on the website. Unsure if it should be known, I didn’t know if I should be the one to address I had taken the dedications down while on the stand, or if Mac should mention it. Why were we discussing dedications that were no longer up on the website? And who, if anyone, actually read them? How could they affect anyone who failed to read or see them?

  “You state in this dedication that his cheating ways caused his wife such great distress that their son was born prematurely. Correct?”

  Looking over at Anya, knowing all she told me that allowed my feelings to grow so substantially, I struggled responding to this question. When she told me Andrew was born prematurely, it only brought me closer to her. I felt how Jackson’s cheating ate her alive during an extremely stressful time for her--for any pregnant woman. My empathy for Anya was never greater than when she shared the story of Andrew’s premature birth with me. When Anya 's desperate eyes ran into mine, I nodded.

  “Yes.” I replied affirmatively.

  “You stated in that dedication that Jackson Caiaphas was so remorseful after his son could have died from his premature birth and wrecked another man’s marriage that in fact, he cheated again; correct?”

  “Yes.” I replied, again looking upon Anya, her eyes still in mine.

  “You stated in this dedication that Mr. Caiaphas has abused his wife emotionally for years and exerted financial and emotional control over her during their marriage; correct?”

  “I don’t recall using those words specifically, but I would say correct to that too.” I nodded, looking away from Anya.

  I had to catch myself--these questions seemingly calculated to protect Anya in a possible divorce proceeding against Jackson. If that was the case, I couldn't allow myself to be rattled and make caustic remarks before answering.

  “And you indicate that these are two acts of domestic violence punishable by law, correct?”

  “That’s what I’ve learned while in my DV class. Yes.” I nodded, my gaze fixed upon Anya again.

  “You state that Mr. Caiaphas has emotionally blackmailed his wife with threats to kill himself if she left and to fight for the kids and give her the business, correct?”

  “That’s what I was told. Yep.”

  “You indicate that Mr. Caiaphas is a narcissist, correct?”

  “You’ve asked me that already.” I told her, a bit agitated.

  “In this dedication, Sir.”

  Before answering I looked up at Jackson, who leaned forward, fuming.

  I nodded before responding. “Yes.”

  “A psychopath.”

  “Absolutely.” I nodded, locking eyes with Jackson.

  “You also authored a dedication to Anya Caiaphas, which I’m going to mark as Petitioner’s Three.”

  “Petitioner's Three?” asked Judge Moone while marking on a piece of paper.

  “Yes.” replied Claudine. “And that dedication was also published on the website, correct?”

  “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “And in the dedication you refer back from the dedicated party, in this case Anya Caiaphas, to the character of the book. Correct?”

  “I did initially. Yes.”

  “And you did that with the other dedications as well, correct?’

  “I did before removing them from the publishing website.” I replied, deciding to make it known to Judge Moone the dedications could no longer be viewed by anyone.

  “I’m asking if you indicated that in your dedications?” asked Claudine, perplexed I threw a wrench in her strategy to mislead Judge Moone.

  “Yes, I did initially before their removal.” I reiterated.

  “And the dedication was posted this past November, correct?”

  “That sounds about right.”

  “I’m going to mark for exhibit Petitioner’s Exhibit Number Four.” announced Claudine as Judge Moone marked up the document in front of her. “You also authored a dedication in the book “The Passion Particle”, to a Judicial Officer Teri Shamm?”

  “I did, yes.”

  “I’ll object as to relevance.” interjected Mac.

  “What’s the offer of proof as to this exhibit?” inquired Judge Moone, dropping her highlighter.

  “Your Honor, there is information contained in this dedication that will correspond to other online posts indicating the corruption between Mr. Caiaphas and Teri Shamm and Prosecutor Donald Holbert.” informed Claudine.

  “What does that have to do with the request for a domestic violence restraining order between your client and Mr. Lastman?”

  Judge Moone' question left me in complete shock. For the first time it finally happened—a judge questioned Claudine Courtney. Although I found it relevant from the standpoint Judge Moone would have a better understanding why I wrote the dedications, at the same time, how was it relevant to a request for a restraining order? It seemed the kangaroo Claudine tried to release inside Judge Moone's courtroom was about to be shot on sight.

  “Just that, in fact, there is a pattern of behavior that links the Judicial Officer.” responded Claudine. “I’m not going to go through the Judicial Officer’s dedication, but there is this idea that my client’s husband is in collusion with elected officials to somehow harm him.”

  I saw right through Claudine’s strategy, hoping to connect my disenchantment with Judicial Officer Shamm with Judge Moone—how she too could become a dedication if she granted a restraining order against me. This “collusion with elected officials” was not something dreamt up—there was collusion with elected and unelected officials in some capacity. How else could I have received a criminal five-year restraining order without laying a finger on the protected parties and never threatening to unless in self-defense? I witnessed it with my own eyes in court--how my assigned judge gave fair rulings all morning before being reassigned to have my case heard in Teri Shamm’s private courtroom. Notwithstanding the fact, The City Prosecutor of Long Beach was not only a tenant of Jackson’s but also a friend through the Cancer Society. It didn't take a nuclear physicist to know it wasn't a coincidence when Jackson removed the name of their office from his company's webpage. There was no doubt Jackson colluded with those in power to come after me, just like Anya warned me he would. I just couldn't believe she allowed her puppet master to do it especially after sharing the lives of her children with me for nearly two years. Jackson never had to make a threat to destroy me. Anya's dishonesty about me, about us, ensured it.

  “I’m going to sustain the relevancy objection at this point.” Judge Moone ruled. “It’s marked for identification only.”

  Although she marked it for identification, leaving it as an exhibit, sustaining Mac's objection was a sweet victory.

  “I’m going to mark what has been marked and identified as Exhibit Number Five, which is a Topix forum chat with a Miranda Dobbins.” Claudine announced. “And if I may approach, your Honor?”

  “Yes.”

  As Claudine Courtney handed her the printout for Judge Moone to mark as the Fifth Exhibit, I recalled this was something she brought to my attention.

  After also handing me a copy of the forum chat, Claudine addressed me.

  “Showing you what has been previously marked as Petitioner’s Exhibit Five, I’d like you to take a minute to review the document.”

  “Sure. Yeah, I mean. I don’t know who wrote this.” shaking my head while responding before handing it back to her. “It wasn’t me if that’s what you’re going to ask me.”

  “Okay. Have you ever heard of this Topix forum?”

  “I did when you mentioned it to me—when I decided to search for it then deleted it. I also reported it as abuse to the website host.”

  “So, on August Seventh, Two-Thousand Twelve, there is someone by the name of Miranda Dobbins, from the city of Newport Beach that posts the following “maybe Davies is being played by people who support him. That’s a possibility. This may not all be on him. For instance, Jackson Caiaphas, who uses his name probably without his knowledge to get favors from Judicial Officer’s like Teri Shamm. I guess, Jackson feels he should get some mileage out of his five hundred dollar campaign contribution to Davies. Davies may just be a victim of a corrupt business owner. That’s a possibility I like better.””. Claudine read from paper I handed back to her.

  There was a time I suspected a police officer, J. Walker, Anya’s neighbor and Carolyn’s possible lover, was involved in aiding them with the first restraining order. I learned his identity after requesting a copy of the officer's report. While researching on Google, I stumbled upon the name of a retired police officer, Richard Davies, who not only lived across the street from Anya and Jackson but who was also running for a congressional seat. Furthermore, I saw Jackson Caiaphas listed as making a five hundred dollar contribution to his campaign. During that time I was struggling to deal with all the anguish, and came across a political chatroom. Feeling the need for some power over the situation, I morphed into Miranda Dobbins, a political nutjob. I had fogotten all about it until visiting the website Claudine informed me about. Now nearly six years later, they had found one of my alter egos.

  “Not me.” I restated, shaking my head.

  “Your Honor, I would object to that as…” said Mac before clearing his throat. “First of all, there is no question pending and I object to that and ask to have it struck from the record as not relevant.”

  “Okay.” acknowledged Judge Moone. “Again, offer of proof, Counsel?”

  “Your Honor, the dedication to Judicial Officer Shamm, the reference to Mr. Davies contained in the dedications clearly indicates that Mr. Lastman is the person who authored these false and defamatory public comments of corruption.”

  “Are you saying that Miranda Dobbins is Mr. Lastman?” deducted Judge Moone.

  I nearly laughed out loud imagining a light bulb flickering above Judge Moone’s head. The only thing missing from her response was a gulp just before she said “Mr. Lastman”.

  “Yes.” Claudine affirmed.

  “All right, I’ll give you some latitude on that.” rendered Judge Moone. “Objection is overruled, but you have to just go straight to the question with Mr. Lastman.”

  “I said no, I don’t know who Miranda Dobbins is.” I restated once again.

  “Well, I’m not asking who Miranda Dobbins is.” retorted Claudine. “But, did you post this comment using a fictitious name of Miranda Dobbins in the City of Newport Beach?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever lived in the city of Newport Beach?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who other than you, Mr. Lastman, has ever accused Mr. Caiaphas of corruption with Teri Shamm, to your knowledge?”

  Before I could answer, Mac interceded.

  “I’ll object as to there is no way somebody can know who else has done this.” argued Mac. “I’m objecting to the form of that question as vague and unanswerable by my client.”

  “Sustained.” affirmed Judge Moone.

  I knew they had no proof I posted the opinion in the Topix chatroom and that I was indeed Miranda Dobbins. If they didn't have an IP address linking me to the comment, they had nothing. At the end of the day, I was honest with the court about authoring the dedications--the reason they filed the request for the restraining order. If I had lied about posting the dedications, something I easily could've done as well, I wouldn't have felt right about that. I admitted to posting the dedications and if I hadn't done that, I not only purposely deceived the court, but deceived God. They had what they wanted from me and this other garbage was at a time when the first restraining order was granted. Considering all of the lies Anya told the court during the first restraining order hearing, that truly stole freedoms from me, they deserved a little taste of what they dished out. Further, there was a huge red box on the post that said "report abuse" and they never even tried reporting it, instead leaving it up to try to bury me deeper.

  “I’m going to refer to what has been marked Exhibit Number Six and Exhibit Number Seven.” Claudine chimed, handing copies to Mac. “And these are going to be two printouts of online statements dated in Two-Thousand Twelve. One is from Ted Scape, July Thirty-First, Two-Thousand Twelve. The other document does not have an indicated date or author but it appears to be a continuation of this post.”

  “Just so I can follow, your Honor.” interrupted Mac, putting on his glasses while looking at the documents. “Which one is six and which one is seven?”

  “Six will be the one from Ted Scape written on July Thirty-First, Two-Thousand Twelve.” clarified Judge Moone. “The second one that is untitled having a similar type will be Petitioner’s Seven.”

  “May I approach?” requested Claudine of Judge Moone.

  “Yes.”

  After Claudine approached to look over the documents with the Judge, I kept my head down—unable to look at Anya, attempting desperately not to lose my shit. They had zero proof of me writing these posts. I even had them removed because Claudine brought them to my attention. I admitted to writing the dedications if they wanted to make a case for defamation, although nothing I posted was knowingly false. Even the postings on the online forums basically covered the same bases the dedications did. If they didn’t have an IP address with my name tied to it, they had nothing. Just listening to Judge Moone trying to keep up, who was likely in her fifties, made it beyond clear she lacked the technical know-how to rule on this type of hearing without any kind of IT expert or specialist testimony. There was no way Claudine could prove I posted these without me admitting it, therefore allowing this to continue took on the form of harassment that Judge Moone should quash in her courtroom—and that's what this was now—pure harassment. After all the lies told about me, the audacity of Claudine expecting me to be honest about posting these opinions was laughable. If they wanted to inspire honesty from me, they needed to be honest themselves. All that should matter is the truth of the matter and admitting to authoring the dedications should be all they came here for, especially after removing everything from the internet I knew or was made aware of. I had no obligation to remove a single post, including the dedications, but did so because there was nothing left to gain. The fact they were all before me today only proved the dedications served their purpose by restoring the balance of power.

  “Mr. Lastman, I’m going to ask you to review Exhibits Six and Seven.” instructed Claudine before handing me two copies, appearing flustered.

  “Sure. I didn’t write any of these. I have no idea who Ted Scape is.” I explained, although I should’ve waited for the question first. “Again, I admit to writing the other stuff—the dedications, but I didn’t write any of this.”

  “Would you agree, Mr. Lastman, that…and let me know if you’d like to refer to that again. That the contents contained in Exhibit Six and Exhibit Seven mirror your life?”

  Her “mirror your life” hail mary left me shaking my head and smiling. "Not at all."

  “I’ll object as to relevance.” Mac announced, knowing the restraining order request was about the dedications and this other nonsense was just being used to rattle me on the stand.

  Judge Moone then looked over at Claudine Courtney before speaking. “Offer of proof?”

  “Your Honor, clearly our position is that there has been an ongoing campaign of harassment from Mr. Lastman to my client. We’re going on ten years of this. The contents in these fictitious postings are all specifically related to Mr. Lastman and his relationship to Mrs. Caiaphas and her husband.” Claudine pleaded. “There is nobody else who would have authored this sort of nonsense, And simply because it’s listed with an alias doesn’t mean that it’s not Mr. Lastman authoring these sentiments and publishing them.”

  I seethed inside over Claudine’s deductive reasoning. Everyone knew in this room, except Judge Moone, why this has been going on for ten years. This was not a campaign of “harassment” but a maintenance of my innocence that was stolen from me with lies and half-truths. If Anya was going to lie about her feelings for me to her husband, then she harassed me the very first night we met—when she approached me at Sonoma’s. What Claudine didn't know, including Jackson, is Anya approached me. She initiated our entire relationship while I intentionally and painfully chose to let her run the show so she could never accuse me of forcing her into anything. Of course, I pushed back when she tried to run because I loved her dearly--she was my entire life. The problem was she didn't want to face the truth about why we fell so deeply in love--because she allowed and encouraged it. If she hadn't allowed and encouraged me to fall deeply in love with her, then I would be the first to admit I deserved an indefinite restraining order. In fact, I wouldn't even show up to court to defend myself--I'd go away forever. But the truth of the matter was I never consented to a relationship, especially after all we shared, after allowing and encouraging me to fall deeply in love with her, if she would only choose to continue living a lie, even telling lies about me. Especially if her willful lies to the man, whose mistreatment and disrespect led her to my arms, would only inspire her to conspire with the devil himself to come after me. Her continued lies to those around her about my role is not what I signed up for and she knew it. I protected her for two years until Jackson took it upon himself to get into my Facebook to confront her. And instead of being honest with him, right after our time in San Francisco, she lied to him about me. She claims I knew what she was faced with, but Anya needed to know love was about what we faced, not just about what she faced. Not to discount all she faced, it was a lot, but if she wanted me to understand all the barriers, then she needed to disclose those to me before deciding to pursue a relationship. Instead, she treated me like her douchebag husband, allowing me to experience the pain of those barriers to see how much I could take before letting her go after allowing and encouraging me to fall deeply in love with her. For her to not even know if she could promise me after enduring all of that, how could she not see how fucked up that is? How fucked up all this is? She stole my life from me by doing so and I had something to say about it--why these dedications came to life. We would've face everything together! That's what love does! I protected her lie for two years and she owed me more than absolute falsehoods about us, especially after sharing the lives of her children with me, so much so I felt connected to them too. She even told me I knew more about Katie than her own father! I mean, how could she feel justified by teaming up with her puppet master to come after me?

  I couldn’t deny that I still loved Anya, the moments we shared were just too special for me to stop caring—she truly was my soulmate. As angry as I was with her for all this led me to, I just couldn’t pull my heart away from her no matter what my mind tried to tell me. Because I knew in my hearts of hearts, she didn't want her situation to burden me or us. That she truly wanted me to have a family of my own because of her indecisiveness. There's not a single doubt in my tortured mind she felt guilty about that and to this day I'm sure she still did. The problem was she allowed and encouraged me to fall deeply in love with her before feeling this way and now I naturally felt fooled by it. What we shared, even for the sake of breaking the hearts of her kids, was far too special for her to conspire with the devil against me. Maybe my reluctance to entirely accept the Anya who played me for a fool, was what made me crazy and imperfect—I don’t know. Yet, here I was fighting alone, even fighting myself maybe more than anyone. The necklace in its pouch within my suit’s pocket spoke the truth about my feelings while my own thoughts betrayed me. I wanted Anya to stand up and call out the ridiculousness in all of this, but she had yet to betray her master.

  Claudine's argument held no water but her assumption was on the money. Although the posts were listed with an alias and they mirrored my life, that was not sufficent evidence to prove I authored them. If the true harassers didn’t want to go through any of this, they shouldn’t have gone through others to corrupt and circumvent the legal process just to preserve the lies of a marriage riddled with significant acts of unfaithfulness. Life was all about choices and these acts of infidelity were never mistakes, but decisions they made. Instead of holding themselves accountable for those choices, they tried holding me accountable for them. Notwithstanding the fact these posts have been up for six years and they could've easily removed them if it bothered them so much. It took me just over three minutes after Claudine made me aware of their location to have them deleted. I knew the burden of proof simply rested with them, and they had none in regards to the chatroom posts.

  “Well, part of it is that it looks like it all kind of predates the criminal activity, the criminal case.” elucidated Judge Moone. “As well as I think that other Orange County case, if I have got the dates on it.”

  Criminal case? What criminal case? Was she referring to the allegations of violating the restraining order that was entirely dismissed after completing the diversion program? Her choice of words describing the legal process I’ve endured made my blood boil; her inaccurate description beyond reckless.

  “So, I’m not sure it’s all that relevant to what this court has to decide today.” Judge Moone continued. “I think the more relevant exhibits are the first three that were presented.”

  I nodded upon the Judge’s ruling and breathed easier—she nailed it.

  “So, on relevancy grounds, I’m going to sustain it. If the door gets opened that’s a different issue.” she finished.

  “I have no further questions of Mr. Lastman.” scowled Claudine before taking a seat next to Anya.

  “Any examination you want to make of your client?” Judge Moone then posed to Mac.

  Mac nodded then stood. “I would like to reserve at this time, your Honor.”

  “All right.” Acknowledged Judge Moone before addressing me. “Sir, go ahead and take your seat at the counsel table.”

  I nodded, fighting back from holding my tongue before rising from my seat. “Okay. Thank you, your Honor.”

  After returning to my seat next to Mac, I wanted to ask how he thought it went but before I could, Judge Moone began speaking.

  “Counsel, would you like to present your next witness?”

  “Yes, your Honor.” responded Claudine Courtney rising from her seat. “Mr. Jackson Caiaphas.”