The prosecutor smiled before Miguel finished sitting down.
That was the first mistake.
Courtroom B smelled like wood polish and old arguments. The kind of room where decisions got made quietly and blamed loudly later.
Miguel slid into his chair at the defense table. Set his folder down. Didn't open it.
Across from him, ADA Renee Jackson leaned back like she owned the air.
Mid-thirties. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes. Hair pulled tight, not a strand out of place. The kind of control that came from practice, not confidence.
"Mr. Delgado," she said. "I'm sorry about your partner."
Miguel nodded once. Nothing more.
"That must've been… destabilizing," she added.
There it was.
Miguel looked at her smile. Too quick. Too rehearsed.
"You look relieved," he said.
Renee blinked. Just a fraction.
"Excuse me?"
"You smiled," Miguel said. "Before I sat down."
The judge hadn't entered yet. No audience. No need for masks.
Renee's smile adjusted. Softer now.
"Nerves," she said. "Big case."
Miguel leaned back.
"Funny," he said. "You don't look nervous."
She studied him. Long enough to make it uncomfortable.
"You're new to this case," she said. "Let me save you some time."
Miguel waited.
"She was found with the victim," Renee continued. "Her prints are on the door. Her motive is public record. This isn't a mystery."
Miguel nodded.
"Then why are you rushing arraignment?" he asked.
Renee's fingers paused on her legal pad.
"We're not rushing."
"You filed to move it up two weeks."
"So the public doesn't lose interest."
Miguel smiled. Small. Controlled.
"You don't speed up trials for clarity," he said. "You do it to outrun something."
Renee's smile faded.
The bailiff cleared his throat.
"All rise."
Judge Sandra Cho entered. Efficient. No wasted motion. She took her seat and scanned the room like she was counting exits.
"Counsel," she said. "Let's proceed."
The motions were routine on paper.
Discovery timelines. Bail conditions. Media restrictions.
Routine didn't mean harmless.
Renee argued for remand without bail. Dangerous defendant. Flight risk. Public pressure.
Miguel listened. Took notes. Let her talk.
When it was his turn, he stood slowly.
"My client is a sitting councilwoman," he said. "With a permanent residence, a public record, and a mother who'd kill her if she missed Sunday dinner."
A few quiet snorts from the gallery.
Renee objected. Judge Cho raised a hand.
Miguel continued.
"She called 911," he said. "She didn't flee. She didn't resist. She didn't lawyer up before speaking."
Renee interjected. "That doesn't—"
Miguel turned toward her.
"People who plan murders don't wait around," he said. "They plan exits."
Judge Cho made a note.
Miguel shifted gears.
"And I'd like the court to compel immediate disclosure of all body cam footage," he added. "Unedited."
Renee's jaw tightened.
"We've already—"
"All of it," Miguel said. "Including the portions before first contact."
Silence.
Judge Cho looked at Renee.
"Is there a reason that hasn't been turned over?" she asked.
Renee's voice stayed calm.
"Some footage is irrelevant."
Miguel spoke before the judge could.
"Relevance isn't decided by the prosecution," he said. "It's decided by what you're hiding."
That landed harder than he expected.
Judge Cho's eyes narrowed.
"I'll review the footage in chambers," she said. "Produce it by end of day."
Renee nodded. Once.
Miguel sat.
The hearing wrapped quickly after that.
As people filtered out, Renee approached the defense table.
"Bold move," she said quietly. "For someone still unpacking his mentor's desk."
Miguel met her eyes.
"You knew Alan," he said.
Renee hesitated.
"Professionally," she said.
"You talk about him like you watched him die," Miguel replied.
Renee's smile didn't reach her eyes this time.
"Be careful," she said. "You're standing in a lot of traffic."
Miguel gathered his files.
"Then you should stop waving me into it," he said.
.....
The hallway outside buzzed with lawyers and clerks pretending they weren't listening.
Miguel walked until the noise faded, then ducked into a stairwell.
He leaned against the wall. Closed his eyes for a second.
Rina was right.
This was curated.
His phone buzzed.
RINA: You won't like this.
Miguel typed back.
MIGUEL: I never do.
RINA: Officer Park's body cam metadata shows a gap. Forty-seven seconds. Deleted.
Miguel exhaled slowly.
MIGUEL: Who signed off?
RINA: Prosecutor's office.
Miguel stared at the screen.
Forty-seven seconds.
Enough time for a conversation. A signal. A nod.
His phone buzzed again.
RINA: Also—Alan met with someone from the DA's office two nights before he died.
Miguel's jaw tightened.
MIGUEL: Who?
There was a pause.
Then—
RINA: Renee Jackson.
Miguel slipped the phone into his pocket.
The stairwell felt smaller now. Colder.
Above him, footsteps echoed.
Below, doors slammed.
Miguel opened his eyes.
Renee had smiled too early.
That meant she knew something before the rest of them did.
And that meant Alan's death wasn't a surprise.
It was a schedule.
Miguel pushed off the wall and headed back into the building.
If the prosecutor was already ahead of him, then he needed to change the game.
And games like this only had one rule:
Whoever flinched first lost everything.