Chapter One

A cool, December sunrise began to peak over the eastern horizon of Paris. The misty, morning light danced against the timeless windows of the historic homes in the troisième, or the 3rd Arrondissement, and of the restaurant they would frequent, called Les Philosophes. Its historic stone pavement terrace buzzed with life after the lunch hour and through the evening, however, in the morning he was able to find some peace there, while the bustle of the district came to life around him. Just a few blocks off the Seine, tucked away in The Marais district, on Rue Vieille du Temple, Judge Connor sat quietly entranced with the thin line of steam rising from his third espresso. He enjoyed the peacefulness of the morning as it was much of the reason he and his wife had enjoyed coming to Paris so often over the years. Perfection in its history, and romance, the judge thought to himself. A wonderful respite far away from his hectic world of law and jurisprudence as a California Superior Court Judge. He and his wife had come to France a dozen times over the past twenty years. Only on this trip, he was alone.

Constance had died only six months prior while he was entrenched in what he considered to be one of the most historic court cases of his career. His feelings of guilt continued to haunt him for the amount of time that the case had taken him away from his beloved wife during the precious time they had left, as she battled her disease. She maintained her strength to the end, all the while, encouraging him to stay on his path and to see this litigation to its completion. She would comment regularly about the importance of it during their morning discussions before he would head to the court house. Her own personal introspection during her challenging time and insights into the deeper judgements of morality and righteousness lead the discussions they would have over breakfast. She continually shed light on the importance of doing what was right instead of playing society’s usual game and perhaps dismissing the case on a technicality. So many go down this path. This case was too important to sweep under the rug.

He had told her of the many private discussions he had had, at the gym, with some of the other judges about this case. They would comment on how creating a precedent of such magnitude would challenge the system to its core. The domino effect of the ruling might have repercussions that would go well beyond what anyone was capable of understanding. The defendants involved in the case had a global reach of international financial corporations doing business with other international corporations dealing with transactions valuing tens of trillions of dollars. Having a recorded judgment on this specific issue would not only challenge the current global financial system, but could expose the systemic judicial corruption that has plagued society and the American justice system for decades. History shows that rulings as important as this can be very dangerous for a judge.

His soft boiled oeufs were getting cold as he slowly nursed his demi cup while lost in contemplative thought. He felt as if, just for a moment, he could smell Constance’s scent as the rush of morning people would pass by. Although, knowing this could not possibly be since he and Constance would sit and create her own personalized aroma, with their favorite perfumer, Des Parfums, located just around the corner on Rue Des Ecouffes. She enjoyed a blend of bergamot, cinnamon, rose, lotus and other oils to make a scent that she and Bartholomew coined, as “Constant”. They originally created the scent on their first trip to Paris together. Each time they were in the city they would go back and get another votre of 50ml. They enjoyed watching the artistry of the perfumer. They would sit with him as he mixed the scent together with all of the varied ingredients all the while speaking in french. The whole process made them feel more like they belonged there in the historic city of romance. They had discussed finding a flat there and retiring in Paris.

After he finished his breakfast he decided to walk down towards the Seine. He enjoyed those mornings with Constance when they would walk slowly through The Marais, looking into the windows before the shops would open. The Paris window shopping is unparalleled, as much as, the Paris shopping is once the doors for business open for the day. Today, he decided that he would head down to the Avenue Des Champs-Elysees district. During the holiday season it was always such a beautiful site to see all of the decorations. Many of the high end retail stores in that district had incredible window displays, holiday music pouring out of the front of the stores, and sometimes one might come across a group of carolers singing in the front of Prada, Gucci, Hermes, or Cartier. It was always a joy for them to stroll hand in hand like young kids in love.

They relished in their night time walks, as well, meandering through the Rues stopping at some of their favorite spots to have a drink or hear some music. One of their regulars was 38 Riv. A small jazz club in an intimate and warm-hearted 8th century cellar in the heart of Marais. Just off the banks of the Seine, they would sit and hear world class musicians in the medieval stone underground club enjoying the sounds of languages heard from around the world behind the soft bass lines of Miles or Coltrane.

As he pulled up the collar of his favorite London Fog he again noticed them trailing him. From out of the corner of his eye through the reflection in the glass of the wine bar he was passing. Someone was indeed following him a dozen steps behind. They had been keeping pace with him since he left Les Philosophes. As he stopped along the way to peek into his favorite hat shop window he noticed their presence a while back. He used those pauses to act as if it was his age that had more to do with his stopping than his curiosity of who might be following him.

Judge Connor was a vibrant man of 72 years. He kept himself as a man of 50 than of 72 yrs. He kept fit mostly by walking everyday and swimming at the club. He had been a member of the Bohemian Gym, in San Francisco, for decades. The Bohemian Gym is known as a gathering and decision-making place for national and international “power brokers.” In fact, the Club claimed to be used as a refuge from decision-making and other business and legal pressures. Conducting business was considered prohibited. However, that rule was broken much more often than followed. It was there where he could swim and get away from the stresses of the courtroom. He could sit and talk with other judges and legislators without worry of any conversations being repeated. The members were certainly diligent about keeping the privacy of whatever was discussed at the club. Nothing discussed there left there.

Bartholomew Connor knew the streets of Paris like the back of his hand. He had been coming here since he was a child with family. Paris was in his blood. His father was a California Superior Court judge who later was elected to the state legislature. His grandfather had been a lawyer in California as well. The roots of the Connor legacy in the world of law had become legendary, helping to pave the way for Bartholomew to rise above the fray.  

Judge Connor had spent his entire adult life in the world of law. He completed his undergrad at CAL in Berkeley, CA. From there he decided to study at the Faculty of Law of Paris. It was the second oldest running faculty of law in the world. He continued his studies to finish his Doctorate in Law at Paris-Panthéon-Assas University. After receiving his doctorate he returned to the United States and back to his home in Berkeley, CA. He quickly passed the California bar exam leading him to a position in a law firm in San Francisco. There he focused on Corporate and Constitutional law. He spent a handful of years with the global firm Baker, Thurman, and Kinzer, LLP. When they asked him to become a partner he decided that he rather wanted to begin a firm of his own. He wasn’t satisfied with the old school ways of a big firm. He found it to be more political than about the true rule of law. He knew the challenges of going out on his own, but he felt that in the long run he would find more freedom to be the kind of lawyer he wanted to be. He didn’t have to fit within the corporate box of the partnership of Yadda, Yadda and Yadda. He could make his own mark on the world.

Now, as the many years that have passed, he was contemplating retirement as he walked through the streets of Paris. He and Constance had discussed the timeline of that for the past handful of years. They discussed that after this latest case came to a close that he would leave the court. They loved to travel and still had so much more of the world to see, but they both understood the gravity and importance of seeing this last case through to the end. They had numerous lengthy discussions of it while enjoying a glass of Caymus Zinfandel on their back deck under the redwood tree of the house they had spent their entire marriage in. Now that she was gone, he wasn’t yet sure if he might do another year or so. He wanted to see how his decision would play out before he made that call.

This latest case had its challenges, however, Constance and her pressure to do the right thing seemed to have breathed a new sense of vigor into Judge Connor. He felt as if he saw the law in a new light for the first time in a long time. It was no longer a job as it had become. It had turned itself into his passion, just as it was when he was young. Constance gave him a new breath of life as hers began to wither away.

They couldn’t have kids due to some health issues that Constance had had as a child leaving her unable to give birth. They chose not to adopt, but they did spend much of their time working with youth organizations and a little league softball team that some members of the court sponsored. Constance had created a non-profit youth group dedicated to underprivileged kids of Alameda County, CA. She never felt the urge to be a mother, however, she always felt the desire to make the world a better place than what she was given. As her life with Bartholomew Conner was quite blessed she made that much more effort to leave an indelible mark onto the world. Her generous heart helped many kids stay in school in order to graduate. Then she helped a number of them with scholarships for a college of their choice. When she began to get ill she got more involved in the hiring of staff to make sure that when she was no longer there everything would still run as usual in her stead. Constance had said in her last days with Bartholomew by her side how she felt that she had done all that she could. She had done everything that she had set out to do. She was satisfied with her life and so very grateful for the depth of love that she and Bartholomew had experienced. She told him how happy she was to have been his wife. She let him know of how proud she was that he had taken on such a difficult case and that he had given her his word that he would follow it to the end. No matter what the outcome he gave her his word that justice would prevail this time.

So many cases in the American justice system seem to get bogged down in procedural issues or secondary arguments that end up taking hold and carrying the case through rather than the deep issues that were the impetus of the initial filings themselves. It is rare that the big cases that challenge the institutions and take up causes of action to the Constitution itself ever reach their initial desired goal from its inception of a legal idea. The system and all of the nuances of law tend to water down a case for it to become palatable to the public at large. Slow movements.

There are very few lawyers and even fewer judges who have the strength to hold onto a legal premise that have the follow through for it to reach its most truthful completion. Over the years Judge Connor had begun to get a bit jaded. The wheels of justice turn slow and the wheels of governance turn even slower. There had been so many cases over the years that left him with so many discussions with state legislators of issues that needed to be changed. The needs of justice fall far behind the needs of legislators running for re-election and placating their base. So many times Bartholomew had talked with his state Congressperson on issues that the court came across that needed to be fixed at the legislative level rather than in the courts. He was getting rather tired of having those kinds of conversations. He had reached a point of welcoming his retirement and enjoying he and Constance’s later years seeing the world together without any schedule. Now that she was gone, he had some decisions to make.

One of the other things that had breathed new life into him was the plaintiff that was party to the case he had just adjudicated. The man was tenacious and had a fire in him that the judge had not seen in his courtroom in a long time. The plaintiff didn’t have the money for an attorney so he had to act on his own behalf. This happens more than most people realize. Usually the judge will hear things through to a point where he knows that the person is so well out of their element that they are incapable of following the rules of law to litigate their case. However, in this case, the plaintiff was different. He seemed to be a quick learner and his written arguments were done better than many of the lawyers that have argued in front of the judge for years. His oral arguments were challenging to him to say the least. Understandably so, as the judge knows that a courtroom can be a very ominous and domineering environment for those who are unfamiliar with the ways and means to traverse the rules and the language of law. Judge Connor found this person to be rather impressive. Although the man was in over his head, he was fighting for his home. A home that he said he had built with his own bare hands. He had filed against Walls & Firga Bank for fraud because, he claimed, they were stealing his home from him despite that he had been current on his mortgage payments.

His name was Dustin Adler.

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