“Then you should be pleased to know the judge has ordered the device left untouched until she can review it.”
His eyes went to the paper. “That order was for the county evidence log.”
“It was amended five minutes ago.”
“Five minutes ago?”
“While you were threatening my client in a locked holding room.”
“I did not threaten anyone.”
Rachel glanced at the camera. “Good. Then the recording will show that.”
Mercer’s stare moved from her to Grant. The officer’s hand had left his radio and was now hanging at his side.
“Bring her upstairs,” Mercer said.
Rachel stepped in front of me. “You don’t give that instruction.”
He leaned toward her. “You have no idea what is on that phone.”
“No,” she replied. “But I know you are desperate to take it.”
The bailiff gestured for all of us to move. Mercer remained in the doorway as we passed. I kept the phone in my hand, but the screen had gone dark. The file notification was gone with it.
I pressed the power button.
Nothing happened.
I pressed it again.
The phone stayed black.
My battery had been low when the police took me from my apartment. It had shown forty-one percent when I was booked. The screen had lit up three times in less than a minute, yet now it would not respond.
“It was remotely shut down,” I said.
Rachel looked at me. “Are you sure?”
“I didn’t turn it off.”
Mercer heard me from behind.
“Or you triggered a security lock by attempting to open restricted material.”
“I never opened the file.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
He said it like a verdict.
Upstairs, the courtroom had changed while we were gone. The reporters had moved closer to the gallery rail. Daniel Hargrove was standing beside the prosecutor’s table with a stack of papers. The Ashford Foundation’s attorney had joined him, whispering rapidly while Elena took her place behind the clerk’s desk.
Judge Whitaker entered a moment later.
Everyone rose.
Mercer went directly to the prosecutor, speaking low enough that I could not hear him. Hargrove listened, then looked at my dead phone.
The look on his face made my stomach turn.
Rachel guided me to the defense table. “Don’t speak until I tell you.”
“What happened?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Mercer took control of the room.”
“He tried.”
“He has my phone.”
“He does not have legal possession of it yet.”
The judge sat. “Mr. Hargrove, you requested an emergency hearing.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“State your request.”
Hargrove placed a document on the table. “The state asks the court to reconsider the preservation order and to hold the defendant for further investigation into an apparent unauthorized access to the county records system.”
A low murmur moved through the gallery.
Rachel stood immediately. “The alleged access occurred through an automated notification sent to my client’s phone after she was already in custody.”
“The notification was generated by her credentials,” Hargrove said.
“You do not know that.”
“The county’s information-technology department has reviewed the initial activity.”
“Initial activity is not authentication.”
Hargrove lifted another page. “At 12:42 a.m., a restricted archive was accessed using credentials associated with Maya Ellis.”
My hands tightened on the edge of the table.
“That is the service account,” I said.
The judge looked at me. “Ms. Ellis.”
Rachel touched my arm, but the words had already left my mouth.
“That is not my personal account. The clerk said it was a service account.”
Hargrove turned toward me. “You are familiar with the county’s internal access structure?”
“I audited public records systems.”
“Were you ever authorized to use the county archive?”
“Not without written permission.”
“Yet the archive was accessed using credentials connected to you.”
“I didn’t access it.”
“Did you provide your credentials to anyone?”
“No.”
“Did you leave your phone or laptop unattended on the night of your arrest?”
“My laptop was taken during the search.”
“And your phone?”
“Taken during processing.”
“So either you or someone acting through your devices accessed the archive.”
Rachel rose. “That conclusion is unsupported.”
“The notification appeared on her phone.”
“After someone else sent it.”
“Then she can tell us who.”
The judge looked toward Mercer. “Detective, why was the defendant’s personal phone taken from the holding room?”
Mercer stepped forward. “Because it displayed protected evidence from an ongoing investigation.”
“Did you have a warrant?”
“The device was lawfully seized during booking.”
“That does not answer my question.”
“The phone was already in police custody.”
“Was it searched?”
“Not yet.”
“Was it altered?”
Mercer hesitated.
The hesitation lasted less than a second, but I recognized it.
A pause could be evidence.
So could a question someone answered too quickly.
The same thing I had noticed when he stopped me in the hallway had followed him into the courtroom.
“I asked whether the phone was altered,” the judge said.
“We initiated a remote security protocol to prevent the dissemination of protected material.”
Rachel’s voice cut through the room. “You shut down my client’s phone.”
“To preserve evidence.”
“By whom was that authorized?”
Mercer looked toward Hargrove.
The prosecutor answered for him. “The department’s information-security officer.”
“Name that officer,” Rachel said.
Hargrove glanced at his papers. “The state is still confirming the individual’s identity.”
“Then you should not be presenting the result as established fact.”
Judge Whitaker held out her hand. “Bring me the device.”
Mercer started toward the defense table.
Rachel stepped between us. “The detective should not be the person handling it.”
The judge’s eyes narrowed. “Detective Mercer, place the phone on the bench. The bailiff will collect it.”
For the first time, Mercer’s hand trembled.
It was almost invisible. A slight movement near his cuff as he withdrew the phone from his jacket pocket.
He had taken it while we were walking upstairs.
I had not felt him remove it.
He placed it on the bench.
The judge ordered the bailiff to seal it in a transparent evidence sleeve, then directed Elena to record the time. The clerk wrote carefully on a form and read the time aloud.
“1:18 p.m.”
The judge looked at Mercer. “Detective, from the moment you removed this phone from Ms. Ellis, did you access or alter its contents?”
“No.”
“That answer includes the remote shutdown?”
“The shutdown did not alter the contents.”
“Did you view any notification?”
“I observed the screen.”
“Did you open any file?”
“No.”
Rachel looked at the sealed phone. “Then the state should have no objection to a forensic image being created in the presence of the defense.”
Hargrove objected. “The defense is attempting to turn an unauthorized access investigation into a fishing expedition.”
“The phone is the state’s claimed proof.”
“It is also a potential source of confidential county information.”