<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/65/Judgehawkins.png)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Judge Warwick<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 4, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Morning<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Courthouse: Judge Warwick's office<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Marguerite Tuerny, Closed<br/><hr/>He raised an eyebrow as she mentioned her husband being detained.  To a judge that meant one thing, and he offered another frown.<strong> “To be blunt, Mrs. Landry, if your husband has committed a crime, it may reflect poorly on yourself before a jury.”</strong>He smiled lightly.<strong> “I will offer the best legal counsel I can, but... an accurate understanding of the pertinent facts is a necessity to do so.”</strong><br/><br/>He cocked an eyebrow.<strong>“Hellstromme Industries?  The owning corporation for the Wasatch line?”</strong>He quirked another smile.<strong> “Surely you've heard of Dr. Darius Hellstromme?  He's the most famous inventor of our day.  <em>Logic and Intuition: The New Science.</em>”</strong>Even the Boston socialite had heard of the book which had propelled hundreds of scientists to venture West in search of ghostrock and the new science being practiced in the West.<br/><br/>He glanced back to the paperwork.<strong>“Ah – yes.  A loan, to cover Mr. Eklain's expenses and pay for construction and a work crew.  I don't have any records of purchases made on either account – the lien is against the strike, but once you prove Alfred Eklain had no claim to the strike, the Bank's expense will be forfeit.  Unfortunately, that means its doubtful they'd be willing to leverage a loan against this particular strike.”</strong><br/><br/>He folded his fingers together and leaned back.  For all it was easy to take him as a drunkard, there was a sharpness in his eyes, a clarity that men who spent their life besotted by drink lacked.  He listened quietly, thoughtful, finally raising a finger to his lip as he considered.  His lips curled at the horror in her face, and he gave a small chuckle.<br/><br/><strong>“No excuse is necessary, Mrs. Landry.  Deputy Hunter suggested you'd encountered ill fortune, but was evasive as to the details.  Though he seemed quite clear Mr. Eklain was in no small part to blame.”</strong>He leaned forward, setting the file down, and retrieving a small pair of spectacles.<br/><br/><strong>“There's a few legal issues here – first and foremost will be seeing Mr. Eklain charged for the theft of your estate.  While he hasn't received any financial recompense as yet, he did swindle a piece of your property, valued in excess of three hundred dollars.”</strong>He paused, looking up.<strong>“Are you aware of the penalty for such theft in Gomorra?  It's a criminal matter, at such a point, not a civil matter, and that's barring what Hunter suggests could be an attempted murder charge.  With either sentence, Mr. Eklain would be shipped to Lost Angels for a twenty year sentence, and to my understanding most of the prisoners there don't last a year.”</strong><br/><br/>He paused, and add dryly,<strong>“Assuming there wasn't a horse amongst your possessions, in which case we'd simply hang him.”</strong><br/><br/>He stroked his hand back over his bald pate, brow creasing again.<strong>“After that matter's settled, there'll be establishing proof the mine is yielding fundament and has been worked in the last three months.  All told, it may be simpler to sell the mine and consider starting a new life somewhere else.  Mining politics in Gomorra are... bloody business, Mrs. Landry.  I'd suggest if you are serious about this, you have a couple of skilled gunmen you'd trust your life to.”</strong><br/><br/>There was another small tug of a smile.<strong>"And if you'd rather not depart, I imagine you can earn your keep and pay your expenses in Gomorra as a lawyer.  You're a persuasive woman."</strong>