Then, calm but firm, she turned a page.
“I am requesting your previous bar records for immediate review, citing relevance to the court’s integrity regarding this proceeding.”
Navaro’s face drained of color. It was a slow, terrifying fade to white. He knew.
He knew she had recognized the past he had hoped to bury beneath a pile of lies about my mother.
My father looked between us, confusion knitting his brows.
“What is going on?” he whispered to Navaro. “What records?”
Navaro ignored him, staring straight ahead, looking like a man watching a tsunami form on the horizon.
“Mr. Navaro,” Judge Wexler said, her voice dropping to a register dangerous in its quietness, “before you continue your attacks on Ms. Reyes’s character, I would like to clarify something for the record. This classified file includes your name.”
Navaro blinked rapidly.
“Excuse me?”
Wexler put on her reading glasses.
“Hector Navaro, disbarred in 2016 for ethical misconduct and fraud, reinstated in 2019 after a probationary period. The lead investigator on the case that resulted in your disbarment was…”
She paused, letting the silence stretch until it hurt.
“Lieutenant Commander Paloma Reyes, United States Navy JAG Corps.”
Gasps filled the room. The sound was physical, a collective intake of breath that seemed to suck the oxygen out of the space.
My father turned pale, his head snapping toward Navaro.
“You… you knew her?”