The access record showed Johnson, Camille, Superior Court Judge, special assignment active, security hold 819. The staff member picked up the phone and called East Security. In the security corridor, Ethan's radio crackled with a tone he recognized. He answered. He listened.
He said very little. When the call ended, he stood at the screening station for several seconds without moving. Then he picked up the form on the desk, the report he had been writing, and looked at it in a way that suggested he was seeing it differently than he had 3 minutes ago. He had written, "Subject became verbally aggressive. " He had written, "Attempted to push past security personnel. " He had written, "I interfered with normal security operations. " He had the directory on the screen in front of him. The directory showed a photograph.
The photograph matched the woman in the security room. The entry below the photograph read, "Superior Court Judge, Fulton County, Special Assignment Active. " His supervisor appeared at the end of the corridor. He was moving fast enough that his lanyard swung against his chest with each step, and his expression was the kind that Ethan had learned to read in 4 years. Not angry yet, but preparing to be. He stopped 2 ft short of Ethan, close enough that the conversation would not carry.
"What did you do? " he said. "I ran a security hold. Credential failure. Subject refused public entrance. She's a sitting judge.
The supervisor's voice dropped lower, which made it worse. She is assigned to this building today. She's been in a locked room for 16 minutes. He put one hand on Ethan's shoulder, not gently, and moved him to the side. Open the room.
Ethan opened the room. Camille Johnson stood up from the chair. She had been sitting for approximately 16 minutes. She picked up her bag without haste. She looked at Ethan.
She looked at the supervisor. She looked at the form on the table that Ethan had brought in but had not had time to put away. The form that now lay face up, visible, its handwritten sentences readable from where she stood. I want a copy of whatever has been written so far, she said. I want it before it's altered.
The supervisor said, "Your honor, that's the first time anyone has used that word. " Camille said, "In 37 minutes. " She walked out of the room. Jonathan Carter in the lobby watched her come out of the east corridor. He watched her face. It was completely still. She did not look relieved.
She did not look angry. She looked like someone who had just finished observing something and had reached a conclusion. She walked to a bench along the wall and sat down. She opened her document bag and removed a notepad and a pen. She began writing slowly, carefully in the chronological order in which things had happened.