Iris glanced at Ravenna, who sat motionless, her eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance. Only Cipher seemed to react, his ears twitching slightly as though listening to something no one else could hear.
During the lunch recess, Ravenna sat alone in a small conference room, Cipher at her feet. She took out a small notebook and wrote something, then tore out the page and slipped it into her pocket as Iris entered.
«We need something concrete,» Iris said, frustration evident in her voice. «The judge isn’t buying any of this without hard evidence.»
Ravenna nodded once, her expression unchanged. She reached into her jacket and removed a small military memorial pin, placing it on the table. It bore no unit insignia, just a simple design that could belong to any branch of service.
«What’s this?» Iris asked.
Ravenna wrote in her notebook: Watch Cipher during the afternoon session.
When court resumed, Blackwood called his final witness of the day, a former colleague of Ravenna’s from her brief documented military service. «Ms. Thorne always had these fantasies,» the witness testified. «Even during basic training, she would hint at being recruited for special assignments. We all thought it was harmless until she started believing it herself.»
From the gallery, the distinguished older man, Admiral Thaddeus Mercer, though his identity remained unknown to the court, watched with an unreadable expression. His attention seemed divided between Ravenna and Judge Hargrove, studying both with equal intensity. As the testimony continued, Ravenna’s right hand moved beneath the table in what might appear to be nervous fidgeting but followed a precise pattern. Cipher’s ears twitched in response, his eyes tracking something no one else was watching.
By late afternoon, even Iris Mendel looked defeated. The judge checked his watch repeatedly, clearly eager to wrap up what he considered a simple case of mental illness and misplaced identity.
«The court will reconvene tomorrow morning at nine,» Judge Hargrove announced. «Mr. Blackwood, I assume you’ll be prepared for closing arguments?»
«Absolutely, Your Honor,» Blackwood replied with a satisfied smile.
As the courtroom cleared, Admiral Mercer approached Iris in the hallway. «You’re fighting the good fight, Counselor,» he said quietly, «but you’re using the wrong weapons.»
«Excuse me?» Iris replied, confused.
«The evidence isn’t in the paperwork. It never was.»
He pressed a business card into her hand before walking away. Iris looked down at the card. It contained only a phone number, no name or organization. When she looked up again, Mercer had vanished into the crowd.
That evening, Ravenna sat in her small apartment, Cipher lying across the doorway. She removed a hidden panel from the bottom of her dresser drawer and took out a small metal case. Inside was a worn photograph of six people in desert camouflage, their faces purposely shadowed. She touched one of the figures gently, then returned everything to its hiding place.
On her phone was a text message from an unlisted number: «Closed circuit. Safe to proceed tomorrow.» She deleted the message immediately.
The second day of the trial began with Prosecutor Blackwood’s theatrical display of confidence. «The defendant would have this court believe she served in an elite military unit,» he announced, pacing before the jury. «Yet when asked direct questions, she cannot, or will not, speak. Instead, we’re treated to notes passed to her lawyer like a child in grade school.»
Several jurors smirked; one openly chuckled.
«The government’s position is simple,» Blackwood continued. «Ravenna Thorne is suffering from delusions. She has constructed an elaborate fantasy about military service to cope with trauma of unknown origin. While deserving of compassion and appropriate psychiatric care, she is not entitled to the veterans’ benefits she has repeatedly attempted to claim, nor access to the classified information she has repeatedly sought.»
As Blackwood spoke, a court reporter adjusted her camera to capture both the prosecutor and Ravenna in the same frame. It was standard procedure, nothing unusual, except that her equipment seemed particularly focused on Ravenna’s face and hands. Iris rose for cross-examination of the final government witness, Dr. Julian Varnum, chief psychiatrist from the Veterans Affairs Hospital.
«Dr. Varnum, in your professional opinion, what are we dealing with here?»
«A textbook case of dissociative identity construction,» Varnum replied confidently. «Ms. Thorne has created an alternate persona as a coping mechanism, in this case, the identity of a highly trained military operative.»
«And her mutism?» Iris asked.
«Consistent with her commitment to the delusion. If she speaks, the fantasy might collapse.»
Throughout the testimony, no one noticed the small military memorial pin on Ravenna’s collar, or the way her eyes systematically scanned the room every 108 seconds, or how Cipher’s attention shifted in perfect coordination with her subtle hand movements. No one was really looking at Ravenna Thorne at all. That had always been her greatest advantage.
As Varnum continued his testimony, Ravenna’s right hand moved beneath the table in what might appear to be nervous fidgeting but followed a precise pattern. Cipher’s ears twitched in response, his eyes tracking something no one else was watching. From the gallery, Admiral Mercer noticed both movements and straightened almost imperceptibly.
During cross-examination, Iris attempted a new approach. «Dr. Varnum, are you familiar with the tactical sign language used by certain special operations units?»
«Objection,» Blackwood nearly shouted. «This is absurd, your honor.»
«I’m inclined to agree,» Judge Hargrove said with visible annoyance. «Ms. Mendel, unless you have evidence—»
«I’d like to call a witness who can authenticate certain physical indicators,» Iris pressed on.
«Your honor, this is becoming farcical,» Blackwood protested. «Next, she’ll claim the service dog is also a secret operative.»
Scattered laughter filled the courtroom. Judge Hargrove didn’t bother hiding his smirk. «Ms. Mendel, you’re testing my patience,» the judge warned. «Unless you have substantial evidence to present, I’m prepared to issue a directed verdict.»
Iris glanced at the business card Admiral Mercer had given her, then back at Ravenna. «Your honor, I’d like to call retired Admiral Thaddeus Mercer to the stand.»
A murmur rippled through the courtroom as the distinguished man from the gallery rose and made his way to the witness stand. Judge Hargrove’s expression shifted slightly—recognition perhaps, or caution.
«Admiral Mercer,» Iris began after he was sworn in, «what was your role in the military before retirement?»
«I served as Deputy Director of Special Activities Division under Naval Intelligence for 12 years,» Mercer replied, his voice carrying the weight of authority. «Prior to that, I commanded Task Force Azure for eight years.»
Even Judge Hargrove seemed to sit up straighter. Task Force Azure was well known in military circles as the oversight command for several highly classified operations. «And are you familiar with the defendant, Ravenna Thorne?»
