“You may be tired, but you're not so very old.

We can make changes to the course of this road.

If you’re keeping your heart and mind open,

and never stop wishing and hoping.

Our children depend on us all.

Let’s teach them to answer the call.

Time is running fast,

but we're learning at last.

Let your heart always shine

and keep it with mine.

~ “Keep It With Mine” Threshold

Upon returning to the courtroom, Mac was there waiting for me pointing at his watch. After apologizing and letting him know my reason for being late, he teased me about my lack of video taking skills. A small group of people waited outside the courtroom on this day so Jackson was unable to taunt me any further. Mac tapped me on the shoulder when he noticed the courtroom doors open and people started quickly filing inside. Watching the door, I saw Anya behind Claudine Courtney walking with Jackson right behind her but when she saw me, a look of fear filled her face before entering. What surprised me wasn’t only the look on her face but the fact she made eye contact with me, something she hasn’t done before in court. Was she really afraid of me or was she putting on an act? When Jackson put his hand on her shoulder to guide her inside, I still didn’t know what to make of it. Was she afraid this hearing would reveal things she possibly never communicated to Jackson about us? That this would all get back to her children? Why was I suddenly feeling bad for her at a time I couldn’t afford to? Seeing the look on her face, not knowing what it meant, puzzled me to a point I started craving a pill for the first time in over a year.

Seeing all those inside the courtroom, it seemed a long day in court awaited us. Five minutes after we entered, the bailiff instructed us to stand for the honorable Maria Ann Moone. When the long dark-haired judge, wearing an oversized robe, appeared, I raised my eyes to the sky knowing how my last experience with a female judge, and likely mother, went. Looking over at Mac, he smiled wryly before patting me on the back seemingly reassuring “it won’t matter”. The minute Judge Moone sat down she got right down to business, and an hour later, we had the courtoom to ourselves after all others quickly received continuances or dismissals. At that point, the court clerk, a petite, blonde short-haired female stood before us and started. speaking.

“Number Nine on Department Fifteen’s calendar.” she announced. “Anya Caiaphas, Landyn Lastman, NQ-Zero-Two-Three-Five-Two-Eight.”

“Let’s have the parties and counsel take their seats...well, stand at the counsel table.” Instructed Judge Moone as she hovered above us. “Let the record reflect the parties are present at the counsel table. I’ll have counsel state their appearances.”

“Claudine Courtney, on behalf of petitioner, Anya Caiaphas.”

“Mac Simon on behalf of the respondent, Landyn Lastman.”

“Okay.” Acknowledged Judge Moone. “Parties raise their right hands to be sworn in.”

The bailiff cleared his throat before speaking. “You do, and each of you, solemnly state that the testimony you may give in the case now pending before the court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

As Anya and I both replied “I do.” it was hard to believe after our deeply loving relationship that these words would be announced before a judge rather than a priest. I had to give Anya credit this time--she didn’t meekly reply like she did at the first restraining order hearing, providing hope she may be honest this time around.

“All right.” said Judge Moone before we sat down. “We’re here on a request for a restraining order that was filed by the petitioner on December Sixth, Two Thousand Seventeen. I don’t believe any temporary orders were issued. And there is a stipulation for the relationship between the parties that it was a dating relationship.”

“So stipulated, your Honor.” Replied Mac.

Judge Moone nodded her head before continuing. “All right. You can call your first witness, Miss Courtney.”

“We would call Landyn Lastman, your Honor.”

Before I could even stand, Mac stuck out his arm to signal me to stop, then cleared his throat before addressing the court. “Your Honor, I would ask for an offer of proof. The application for the temporary order was denied and there has been no change that we’re aware of for the court to consider.”

Mac’s attempt to quash the proceedings before they began caught me by surprise. He was right though—how could this case even be heard? Our relationship was several years ago now, and we're no longer in a "dating" relationship—a stipulation for this type of restraining order request. I also never reached out to Anya or Jackson; another stipulation not met. This was clearly not a restraining order type case but rather a case for slander or libel. The problem for them was that absolutely nothing I wrote was knowingly false and the story was essentially an unpublished work pitched as fiction, although it wasn’t. For the judge to decide on hearing their request for a restraining order made me extremely suspicious of it being another inside job, especially now knowing of Donald Holbert’s unmeasured involvement.

“Well, no, that’s not how it works, Counsel.” Judge Moone responded, shaking her head. “If the temporary orders are not granted, it’s because the court wants to hear evidence. There is not enough of a showing or there is not enough of an emergency for the court to issue temporary orders. So, I don’t need an offer of proof at this point.”

Mac did not nod or appear to accept the judge’s ruling before sitting down in quiet resignation.

“So, Mr. Lastman, come on up to the witness stand please.” She instructed as I rose before walking over to the witness chair. “Stop right there, raise your right hand to be sworn.”

When she asked for me to raise my right hand to be sworn in, it started to feel a little strange—didn't we just do this a few minutes ago? Why was she asking me to do this twice when the only liars in the room were the cheaters requesting the restraining order? After she quickly shut down Mac’s common sense inquiry, there was a foreboding sense of familiarity with this process, making me wary of what was to come. They were requesting a stay away order after staying away from them for over six years? There was no evidence supporting any action by me warranting a stay away order request. What was she really seeking?

The female court clerk stood up and looked me in the eyes before speaking. “Landyn Lastman, called as a witness by the people, do you solemnly swear that the testimony you may give in the case now pending before this court shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.” I stated loudly, stopping myself from asking why I needed to repeat this.

“State your full name, please and spell your last name.” she continued.

“Landyn Lastman. L-A-S-T-M-A-N.” I anxiously obliged.

Judge Moone looked to Claudine Courtney then nodded. “You may proceed.”

“Thank you.”

As Claudine approached, I saw Anya sitting directly before me and Jackson fidgeting about in his seat right behind her. Seeing Anya in my direct line of sight brought me back to the many times we couldn't take our eyes off each other. How to this very day I still found it impossible to not recall our dinner in San Francisco--her eyes gazing into mine with excitement and wonder; how her presence alone made me feel like the luckiest man in the world. Now, here we were again before one another, but looking through each other, disconnected by her design; bringing to life her veiled threat that evening “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t move on.” If she could never understand why I couldn’t move on from the way she made me feel at the times her eyes were lost in mine, she couldn't have ever understood anything about my love for her. I wanted her to stand up and push back on Jackson, and all others in the courtroom, and announce the truth about me, the truth about us. How our love was beyond unworthy of this kind of acknowledgement. I wanted the woman, who claimed she believed in our love, to make a stand while I took the stand. She knew I didn’t belong up here and how my place should be occupied instead by the man shadowing her. But, I was never Anya’s master, Jackson was. I didn't pay her bills or provide for her children, he did--the pact she made with him to stay together because of that alone. Unknown to me, Anya was high maintenance, if not for herself anymore, for her kids, and Jackson bought her years ago after leading me to believe for two years nothing could be further from the truth. As I sat before her once again, the schism between the Anya I still loved and the Anya who hid the truth was all too real, but was she ever real? The one side, carrying within my suit pocket my love for her, and the other side, the disconnected one now staring through her, who felt duped, betrayed, manipulated, controlled, gaslit and lied to. On this day, I could only hope the second part of me dies, just so the part dwelling inside my suit pocket survives.

“Mr. Lastman, are you familiar with the person by the name of Anya Caiaphas?” Asked Claudine.

“Yes, I am.”

“And is Anya Caiaphas sitting to my left?”

“Yes.” I replied, giving a quick nod before getting lost in her for a few seconds.

“Some time around Two-Thousand and Six did you meet Mrs. Caiaphas?”

“Yes.” I responded, not having to think about it.

“And did you begin at that time a brief relationship with her?”

“A two year relationship.” I quickly responded, agitated by the question.

“Is that a “yes””?

“It’s actually a “No”.” I reiterated shaking my head, frustrated by her characterization knowing Jackson couldn't even remain faithful to her within the first two years of their marriage. “A two year relationship is not a brief relationship. It was a significant relationship. Sorry.”

“Between the years Two-Thousand and Six and Two-Thousand and Seventeen, have you had restraining orders issued against you? Preventing you from contacting Mrs. Caiaphas?” Claudine Courtney dug in further, attempting to incite me.

“I did for the years Two-Thousand and Eleven to Two-Thousand and Sixteen--ending October Two-Thousand and Sixteen.” I clarified, hoping to expose Claudine’s exagerration tactics to Judge Moone.

“Did you have an order in Two-Thousand and Nine?” she pressed further.

“No…at least not that I was aware of. I didn’t receive any kind of notification.” I answered.

“All right." interrupted Judge Moone. "So, for the court’s information, are we talking about orders NQ-Zero-One-Three-Four-Three that appears to have been earlier in Two-Thousand Nine?”

“Yes, your Honor.” confirmed Claudine.

“And then there was a separate criminal protective order?” Judge Moone inquired further, her eyes looking down at a document before her.

“Correct.” verified Courtney.

“In Three-LG-Zero-One-Four-One?”

“I believe, Yes.” replied Claudine, sounding a bit unsure. “There was a criminal complaint filed against him.”

“That would be for the Three-LG case?”

“That was for the violation, your Honor.” added Courtney, perking up a bit.

“Okay. Actually, I’ll have my courtroom assistant pull those two files, and then the court will take judicial notice.” Judge Moone stated, her oversized black robe sleeves flapping about. “All right. Go ahead and proceed.”

Claudine Courtney jumped on this opportunity to misdirect Judge Moone who seemed unprepared, if not entirely unfamiliar with my case, into believing there were two restraining orders granted against me and I was guilty of violating one of them. The alleged violation should not even be brought to the court’s attention--it was dismissed after finishing the diversion program. Why would I go through the time and trouble accepting then successfully completing a diversion program if the court would just look upon it being the same as a conviction? Claudine’s purposeful mention of it should immediately be stricken from the record. Her intentional mischaracterization of the history of granted restraining orders against me spanning over eleven years instead of five was why the dedications were posted in the first place! Notwithstanding the general frivolousness nature of her line of questioning--even after removing the dedications entirely from the website. Was her strategy to misguide Judge Moone for the true reason why the dedications were removed? To get her to believe they were taken down by me because they were not true? That I removed them to try to save my ass from a defamation charge instead of taking them down solely for Katie and Andrew's sake? As an intense agitation grew within, I fought back against the building disgust, trying desperately to avoid giving a potentially biased and easily duped female judge all the evidence she needed to find me worthy of another five year restraining order—just for writing dedications to defend myself.

“Mr. Lastman.” continued Claudine, her eyes glaring into mine. “You were convicted in this very court house of a violation of the restraining order issued against you; correct?”

“No.” I stated, shaking my head, my eyes never leaving hers. “I was never convicted for violating the restraining order.”

“I’m going to object.” interjected Mac. “It calls for a legal conclusion.”

“Counsel, let me just take judicial notice of the file once I get it.” answered Judge Moone to address Claudine Courtney, ignoring Mac. “Just move on with your questioning.”

“Okay. The order of protection that was issued against you in Orange County expired in October of Two-Thousand Sixteen, correct?” Claudine asked me.

I nodded. “That’s correct.”

“And in November of Two-Thousand Sixteen, you authored a book by the title of “The Passion Particle”; Correct?”

I leaned in to the microphone before speaking. “Yes, I did.”

“Passion what?” inquired Judge Moone.

“Passion Particle.” Claudine verified.

“The Passion Particle”. I chimed in, smiling, finding it comical having my novel’s title mentioned in the courtroom.

“Your Honor, I’m going to object.” interrupted Mac who adjusted his glasses before addressing me. “Mr. Lastman, if you could wait until I’ve had a chance to object. I’ll object—too vague as to time.”

“I thought Counsel said November of two thousand sixteen?” wondered Judge Moone, genuinely confused.

“I did.” Claudine Courtney confirmed.

Judge Moone then shook her head. “Overruled.”

“I’ve been writing the book since two thousand fourteen.” I offered--maybe not the best of ideas.

“And you published what?” Claudine posed to me.

“I publish a chapter every…about two a month.” I responded, trying to be as accurate as possible. “But now I’ve been so busy, it’s once a month if I even post chapters at all. I really don’t have the time to do it much anymore.”

“So, the book, “The Passion Particle”, is a fictitious book, correct?”

After this question, Anya peered up at me with a look of defeat in her eyes. Here was my chance to bury her for not disclosing all she should have told me before allowing me to fall deeply in love with her. To avenge for all her half truths, for telling me she was only there because no one would be with her if she were to leave without telling me she was there for what Jackson provides her kids with. For her decision to not disclose the reasons for her never leaving a philanderer without telling me it was because she believes she's better than the general public--who have left their spouses for much less. For allowing me to fall deeply in love with her before she went to Tenerife with her husband, leaving me feeling abandoned and even betrayed. For telling me she missed me, yet went on a girls trip to Mammoth, choosing not to contact me until I started to wonder and ask questions. For allowing me to fall madly in love with her without telling me an adult decision to be together would rest in the hands of a twelve and ten year old. Here was my chance to put an end to her lies forever. To let her know the kind of man she married, is the one she should do these unfathomable things to. To show her if she thought Jackson coming after me, an honest man, was a rational act of protecting her, she had it wrong. I know what love is and I know it would never cheat on her, unlike the scumbag behind her.

“That’s correct.” I perjured myself. “It’s my life story and a bit of a memoir, but ultimately it’s a book of fiction.”

I couldn't pull the trigger--the book wasn't about venegance; it was about telling my story and to hopefully help those who may find themselves in the same predicament. It was an opportunity to clarify the nature of the book as well to protect her privacy, remembering I described it as a "ninety percent" true story before removing the dedications. For some reason, I recalled the time she tracked me down in Vegas, even showing up at my hotel with her daughter after losing my phone and couldn't respond to her. Anya did do some very loving things for me, that time being one of them--the reason why the necklace rests against my heart at this moment. Hoping maybe her love will somehow shine through the darkness of these proceedings--revealing why she sent me the heart pendant. Sometimes the pain I felt made me forget the times I failed her. But If I couldn't have her with me forever, all I wanted was her honesty before falling in love with her, so I'd at least know what to expect, if not the ending to our story. She denied me the chance to understand her decision by choosing not to disclose the real reasons she was still with Jackson, even after asking for them too. I trusted her with my life the same way she trusted me with hers, but losing all the hope I ever had in the goodness of this world, even bringing me to the point of hating women was entirely underserved and maddening knowing the man behind her deserved to feel these things.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

“That book was published on a book publishing website, correct?”

“That’s correct.” I told Claudine.

“And isn’t it true that on November Twenty-First Two-Thousand Sixteen, you published a dedication to that book to Katie and Andrew Caiaphas?”

I nodded. “Among others, yes.”

“And who are Katie and Andrew Caiaphas?”

“That is Anya’s and Jackson’s daughter and son.”

“You don’t know them personally, do you?”

“No, I don’t.” I told her, ready to throw a monkey wrench in her line of questioning. “But I was invited to Katie’s recital some years back.”

“Sir, I’m going to ask you a direct question, if you don’t mind answering.” said Claudine as she began approaching me.

Taken aback by Claudine giving me the option to answer, I propped myself up. “Sure.”

“I’m sorry, I missed the connection.” interceded Judge Moone. “So, Katie and Andrew Caiaphas are Mrs. Caiaphas’s children?”

“Correct.” Replied Claudine.

“Okay.”

How did Judge Moone miss this obvious connection? Was she paying attention? Or did she realize, as much as I did, this trial was an absolute joke—that there was something else going on here.

“And in that dedication to Katie and Andrew Caiaphas.” Continued Claudine, stepping close to the stand. “You tell them, or you publish, that their father is a classic manipulator, narcissist, sociopath and psychopath. Correct?”

I couldn’t recall if I described Jackson as such in their dedication, but I did in Jackson’s. Which led me to believe, Katie and Andrew didn’t see the dedication I wrote them, but Jackson surely did. When she asked me this question, I wanted to respond with oh you mean those same things he called me when he actually contacted my father? Claudine had the letter; she could see it for herself. And I never sent my dedication to Katie and Andrew, published just like placing it in a bottle and throwing it into the Pacific—believing no realistic chance of it ever reaching them existed. Gazing upon Anya, in my heart and mind, why I fought so hard for her to see the good in us, she was the true victim of his manipulative, narcissistic, sociopathic and psychopathic ways. He was still manipulating her believing loving a man, like myself, who would’ve never dreamt of dishonoring her, was no good for her or her kids. Anya was unwilling to accept these traits of her husband because she would have to break the heart of her kids. I just wish she made me aware of this before allowing and encouraging me to fall deeply in love with her. As Jackson stared me down from behind her, my disgust with his fake self-righteousness inspired a pointed response.

“The shoe fits. Correct.” I nodded. “Now did Katie and Andrew actually see the dedication? Sounds to me like only their father saw it.”

“Well, hang on a second, Sir. That’s not the question. You don’t get to ask the questions, actually.” Judge Moone told me.

“I’m sorry.” I replied, putting my hands in the air to assure her I was doing my best to maintain decorum in her courtroom. In my mind, the question had no relevancy in a request for a restraining order hearing. It was an opinion of mine and if you believe it’s false, then sue me for slander. Why is this being asked in a restraining order hearing?

“I’m sure your attorney warned you, and I will warn you as well that when the court rules on matters, they consider not only what is said in the courtroom but how people act in the courtroom” Continued Judge Moone, leading me to have Teri Shamm flashbacks.

“I understand.” I told her, fighting back the urge to ask if it’s okay to defend myself.

“Alright. So, wait for the question.” She scolded further. “Do you have a copy of the dedication you want to mark as an exhibit?”

“Yes, your Honor.” replied Claudine Courtney, pulling out a piece of paper from a folder. “I have a court copy. If the court would like a copy—I gave counsel a copy. I was going to make one.”

“Alright, so we’ll mark Katie and Andrew’s dedication as Petitioner’s Exhibit Number One.” Acknowledged Judge Moone after Claudine handed her a pack of documents or future exhibits. “Okay, please continue your questioning, Counsel.”

“This dedication that you authored for Katie and Andrew Caiaphas, you also state that their mother and father’s marriage is not founded on love, but rather fear and deceit.” Stated Claudine, reading from a piece of paper she held while facing me. “That their marriage lacks loyalty, trust and respect that has simply hurt and disrupted lives around it, correct?”

“You can include my life in that statement as well.” I replied, unable to contain my emotions.

“You also indicated in that dedication they needed to know their mother is a victim of emotional abuse from the destructive mind of their father. Correct?”

“That’s correct.” I replied, feeling a sense of duty. All because she fell in love with a man who honored her, unlike her husband, didn’t mean she didn’t love her children.

“Counsel, if you could just point to which paragraph” interjected Judge Moone, using her index finger while scanning the document.

“Sure, your Honor. On the third page sort of the middle section.” Directed Claudine.

“Alright. Found it. Thank you.”

“Sure.”

I wanted to advise the Judge to read the entire dedication so Claudine’s choice paragraphs weren’t taken out of context—a tactic she used in the past. What I wrote in the dedications didn’t come out of thin air to harass anyone but only meant to defend myself from their harassments. I knew what she was attempting to do and I refused to allow it this time.

“You indicate that their father has disrespected, dishonored and shamed Mrs. Caiaphas for years. Correct?” She continued.

“From what Anya has told me about him—that is correct.”

“I’m asking you whether you put this in your dedication.”

“I’m just letting the court know what I wrote was not known to be false—it was what I was told. The reason why I’m sitting here today answering your questions.” I told her. “And the answer to this question is “yes”.”

“I’m going to mark as Exhibit Number Two the dedication to Jackson Caiaphas.” Claudine notified Judge Moone.

“I’m sorry, which one? Because the one I have in the package says dedication to Anya Caiaphas.” Inquired Judge Moone, a look of confusion on her face again.

“I’m going to skip over that one. It should be the third one.”

“Okay. Sorry.” Said Judge Moone, marking the exhibit. “Go ahead, Counsel.”

“Thank you.” Replied Claudine, clearing her throat before addressing me again. “Did you, in fact, author a dedication to Mr. Caiaphas, in your book, “The Passion Particle”?”

I nodded before speaking. “Yes, I did.”

“And this dedication was also published on the publishing website?”

“That’s correct.”

“And isn’t it true that in this dedication you state that Mr. Caiaphas cheated on his wife when she was pregnant with their second child, correct?”

“That’s what I was told. Yes.” I nodded.

“I’m just asking if you have written this.” Stated Claudine, agitated.

“Yes, I did.” I confirmed, offering no apology.

I knew what Claudine Courtney was trying to do—to convince the court the statements I wrote were knowingly false. If they were successful in this endeavor, Jackson could make good on his threat and sue me for slander. It also seemed Judge Moone was unaware the dedications were taken down after Claudine asked me to remove them—angling to the court that they were still up on the website. Unsure if that should be made known, I didn’t know if I should be the one to address that while on the stand or if Mac should mention it. Why were we discussing dedications that were no longer up on the website? And who, if anyone, actually read them?

“You state in this dedication that his cheating ways caused his wife such great distress that their son was born prematurely. Correct?”

Looking over at Anya, knowing all she told me that allowed my feelings to grow so substantially, I struggled responding to this question. When she told me Andrew was born prematurely, it really made me feel closer to her because I knew the stress of Jackson’s cheating ate her alive. My empathy for Anya was never greater when she shared Andrew’s premature birth with me. When Anya gazed upon me, our eyes meeting for the first time in years, all I could do was nod.

“Yes.” I responded.

“You stated in that dedication that Jackson Caiaphas was so remorseful after his son could have died from his premature birth and wrecked another man’s marriage that in fact, he cheated again; correct?”

“Yes.” I replied, again meeting Anya’s gaze.

“You stated in this dedication that Mr. Caiaphas has abused his wife emotionally for years and exerted financial and emotional control over her during their marriage; correct?”

“I don’t recall using those words specifically but I would say correct to that too.”

“And you indicate that these are two acts of domestic violence punishable by law, correct?”

“That’s what I’ve learned while in my DV class. Yes.”

“You state that Mr. Caiaphas has emotionally blackmailed his wife with threats to kill himself if she left and to fight for the kids and give her the business, correct?”

“That’s what I was told. Yep.” I replied, nodding.

“You indicate that Mr. Caiaphas is a narcissist, correct?”

“You’ve asked me that already.”

“In this dedication, Sir.”

Before answering I looked over at Jackson, who appeared to be fuming inside.

I nodded before responding. “Yes.”

“A psychopath.”

“Absolutely.”

“You also authored a dedication to Anya Caiaphas, which I’m going to mark as Petitioner’s Three.”

“Petitioner Three?” Asked Judge Moone while marking on a piece of paper.

“Yes.” Claudine acknowledged. “And that dedication was also published on the website, correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And in the dedication you refer back from the dedicated party, in this case Anya Caiaphas, to the character of the book. Correct?”

“I did initially. Yes.”

“And you did that with the other dedications as well, correct?’

“I did before removing them from the publishing website.” I replied, deciding to make it known to Judge Moone the dedications could no longer be viewed by anyone on the website.

“I’m asking if you indicated that in your dedications?” Asked Claudine, perplexed I through a wrench in her strategy.

“Yes, I did initially before their removal.” I reiterated.

“And the dedication was posted this past November, correct?”

“That sounds about right.”

“I’m going to mark for exhibit Petitioner’s Exhibit Number Four.” Announced Claudine as Judge Moone marked up the document in front of her. “You also authored a dedication in the book “The Passion Particle”, to a Judicial Officer Teri Shamm?”

“I did, yes.”

“I’ll object as to relevance.” Interjected Mac.

“What’s the offer of proof as to this exhibit?” Inquired Judge Moone, appearing annoyed.

“Your Honor, there is information contained in this dedication that will correspond to other online posts indicating the corruption between Mr. Caiaphas and Teri Shamm and Prosecutor Donald Holbert.” Claudine informed Judge Moone.

“What does that have to do with the request for a domestic violence restraining order between your client and Mr. Lastman?”

For the first time it finally happened—a judge questioned Claudine Courtney. Although I found it relevant from the standpoint Judge Moone would have a better understanding why I wrote the dedications, at the same time, how was it relevant to a request for a restraining order? It seemed the kangaroo Claudine tried to introduce to Judge Moone was about to be removed from the proceedings.

“Just that, in fact, there is a pattern of behavior that links the Judicial Officer.” Responded Claudine. “I’m not going to go through the Judicial Officer’s dedication, but there is this idea that my client’s husband is in collusion with elected officials to somehow harm him.”

I saw right through Claudine’s strategy, hoping to connect my disenchantment with Judicial Officer Shamm with Judge Moone—how she could possibly become a dedication as well. This “collusion with elected officials” was not something I dreamt up—there was collusion with elected and unelected officials in some capacity. How else could I have received a five-year restraining order without laying a finger on the protected parties and never threatening to unless in self-defense? I witnessed it with my own eyes in court, how the other judge gave fair rulings before bringing me into Teri Shamm’s private courtroom. The City Prosecutor of Long Beach was not only a tenant of Jackson’s but also a friend through the Cancer Society. There was no question Jackson colluded with those in power to come after me, just like Anya warned me he would before letting her master do so.

“I’m going to sustain the relevancy objection at this point.” Judge Moone ruled. “It’s marked for identification only.”

At this point? What did that mean? It’s either “sustained” or “overruled” and that’s the end of it. There should never be “at this point”. I didn’t care for Judge Moone’s response much, fearing another unfair hearing coming my way.

“I’m going to mark what has been marked as identified as Exhibit Number Five, which is a topics forum chat with a Miranda Dobbins.” Courtney told the judge. “And if I may approach, your Honor?”

“Yes.”

As Claudine Courtney handed her the print out for Judge Moone to mark as the Fifth Exhibit, I recalled this was something Courtney brought to my attention. I had a sneaking suspicion who Miranda Dobbins was but never talked to the person anymore.

After also handing me a copy of the forum chat, Claudine began her questioning.

“Showing you what has been previously marked as Petitioner’s Exhibit Five, I’d like you to take a minute to review the document.”

“Sure. Yeah, I mean. I don’t know who wrote this.” I told Claudine. “It wasn’t me if that’s what you’re going to ask me.”

“Okay. Have you ever heard of this Topics forum?”

“I did when you mentioned it to me—when I decided to search for it then deleted it. I also reported it as abuse to the website.”

“So, on August seventh two thousand twelve, there is someone by the name of Miranda Dobbins, from the city of Newport Beach that posts the following “maybe Davies is being played by people who support him. That’s a possibility. This may not all be on him. For instance, Jackson Caiaphas, who uses his name probably without his knowledge to get favors from Judicial Officer’s like Teri Shamm. I guess, Jackson feels he should get some mileage out of his five hundred dollar campaign contribution to Davies. Davies may just be a victim of a corrupt business owner. That’s a possibility I like better.””.

There was a time I suspected a police officer, Anya’s neighbor and Carolyn’s possible lover, was involved in aiding Jackson with the first restraining order. I ran into Mitch one night and told him about it. I also recalled him telling me he was dating a girl, Miranda, who lived near me in Newport Beach—hoping we’d hang out again. I was completely done with Mitch’s immaturity at this point and far too depressed and too busy to deal with his antics anymore. There’s no question Mitch, who was deeply engrossed in politics, was engaging with this political chat forum about that time frame. If I had done this, I would’ve copped to it since I’ve already admitted to everything else. Even if I did do it, what relevancy did it have to the dedications?

“Not me.” I restated, shaking my head.

“Your Honor, I would object to that as…” spoke Mac before clearing his throat. “First of all, there is no question pending and I object to that and ask to have it struck from the record a not relevant.”

“Okay.” Acknowledged Judge Moone. “Again, offer of proof, Counsel?”

“Your Honor, the dedication to Judicial Officer Shamm, the reference to Mr. Davies contained in the dedications clearly indicates that Mr. Lastman is the person who authored these false and defamatory public comments of corruption.”

“Are you saying that Miranda Dobbins is Mr. Lastman?” deducted Judge Moone.

I nearly laughed out loud imagining a light bulb flickering above Judge Moone’s head. If we were all playing the boardgame Clue, she would’ve lost by now. The only thing missing from her deduction was a gulp just before she said “Mr. Lastman”.

“Yes.” Claudine affirmed.

“All right, I’ll give you some latitude on that.” Reasoned the Judge Moone. “Objection is overruled, but you have to just go straight to the question with Mr. Lastman.”

“I said no, I don’t know who Miranda Dobbins is.” I restated once again.

“Well, I’m not asking who Miranda Dobbins is.” retorted Claudine. “But, did you post this comment using a fictitious name of Miranda Dobbins in the City of Newport Beach?”

“No.”

“Have you ever lived in the city of Newport Beach?”

“Yes.”

“Who other than you, Mr. Lastman, has ever accused Mr. Caiaphas of corruption with Teri Shamm, to your knowledge?”

Before I could say Mitch’s name, Mac interceded.

“I’ll object as to there is no way somebody can know who else has done this.” argued Mac. “I’m objecting to the form of that question as vague and unanswerable by my client.”

“Sustained.” Acknowledged Judge Moone.

“I’m going to refer to what has been marked Exhibit Number Six and Exhibit Number Seven.” Claudine chimed. “And these are going to be two printouts of online statements dated in two thousand twelve. One is from Ted Scape, July thirty-first two thousand twelve. The other document does not have an indicated date or author but it appears to be a continuation of this post.”

“Just so I can follow, your Honor.” Interrupted Mac, putting on his glasses while looking at the documents. “Which one is six and which one is seven?”

“Six will be the one from Ted Scape written on July thirty-first two thousand twelve.” Clarified Judge Moone. “The second one that is untitled having a similar type with be Petitioner’s Seven.”

“May I approach?” Requested Claudine of Judge Moone.

“Yes.”

After Claudine approached to look over the documents with the Judge, I kept my head down—unable to look at Anya, attempting to desperately not to lose my shit. They had zero evidence of me writing these posts. I even took them down because Claudine brought them to my attention. I admitted to writing the dedications, why would I deny writing these if I did? If they didn’t have an IP address with my name tied to it, then they had nothing. Looking at Judge Moone, she clearly lacked the technical know-how to rule on this type of hearing without any kind of expert or specialist testimony. There is no way Claudine could prove I posted these and therefore Judge Moone should not allow this harassment to take place in her courtroom—and that what this was now—pure harassment. All Claudine had was a hunch so how could it be that if I responded indifferently to this harassment, that Judge Moone would find me guilty not based on anything other than having an emotional response? All that should matter is the truth here and admitting to authoring the dedications should be the end of it, especially after removing everything from the internet I knew or was made aware of. I had no obligation to remove anything but did so because there was nothing left to gain.

“Mr. Lastman, I’m going to ask you to review Exhibits Six and Seven.” Claudine told me, handing me the printouts.

“Sure. I didn’t write any of these. I have no idea who Ted Scape is.” I explained, although I should’ve waited for the question first. “Again, I admit to writing the other stuff—the dedications, but I didn’t write any of this.”

“Would you agree, Mr. Lastman, that…and let me know if you’d like to refer to that again. That the contents contained in Exhibit Six and Exhibit Seven mirror your life?”

Her “mirror your life” hail mary left me shaking my head and smiling.

“I’ll object as to relevance.” Mac announced, knowing the restraining order request was about the dedications and this other nonsense was just being used to rattle me. For all I knew, Jackson posted them claiming it was me who did.

Judge Moone then looked over at Claudine Courtney before speaking. “Offer of proof.”

“Your Honor, clearly our position is that there has been an ongoing campaign of harassment from Mr. Lastman to my client. We’re going on ten years of this. The contents in these fictitious postings are all specifically related to Mr. Lastman and his relationship to Mrs. Caiaphas and her husband.” Claudine pleaded. “There is nobody else who would have authored this sort of nonsense, And simply because it’s listed with an alias doesn’t mean that it’s not Mr. Lastman authoring these sentiments and publishing them.”

I seethed inside over Claudine’s deductive reasoning. Everyone knew in this room, except Judge Moone, why this has been going on for ten years. This was not a campaign of “harassment” but a maintenance of my innocence that was stolen from me with lies and half-truths. If Anya was going to lie about her feelings for me to her husband, then she harassed me the very first night we met—when she approached me at Sonoma’s. I never consented to a relationship, after all we shared, after she allowed and encouraged me to fall deeply in love with her, if would only choose to continue living a lie. That’s not what I signed up for and she knew it. I couldn’t deny that I still loved Anya, the moments we shared were just too special for me to stop caring—she truly was my soulmate. As angry as I was with her for all this led me to, I just couldn’t pull my heart away from her no matter what my mind tried to tell me. And maybe that’s what made me crazy and imperfect—I don’t know. Yet, here I was fighting alone, even fighting myself maybe more than anyone. The necklace in its pouch within my suit’s pocket spoke the truth about my feelings while my own thoughts betrayed me. I wanted Anya to stand up and call out the ridiculousness in all of this, but she never did as her master watched over her.

All because it’s listed with an alias doesn’t prove I authored them. If they didn’t want to go through any of this, they shouldn’t have gone through others to corrupt the legal process—to preserve the lies of a marriage riddled with significant acts of unfaithfulness. These were never mistakes, but decisions they’ve made. I suspected the author was Mitch, but didn’t know for certain. These posts have been up for over five years and could’ve easily been removed—it took me just over three minutes after Claudine made me aware of them. The burden of proof rested with them, and they had none.

“Well, part of it is that it looks like it all kind of predates the criminal activity, the criminal case.” spoke Judge Moone. “As well as I think that other Orange County case, if I have got the dates on it.”

Criminal case? What criminal case? Was she referring to the allegations of violating the restraining order that was entirely dismissed after completing the diversion program? Her choice of words describing the legal process I’ve endured made my blood boil. Her inaccurate description beyond reckless.

“So, I’m not sure it’s all that relevant to what this court has to decide today.” Judge Moone continued. “I think the more relevant exhibits are the first three that were presented.”

I nodded upon the Judge’s ruling and breathed easier—she nailed it.

“So, on relevancy grounds, I’m going to sustain it. If the door gets opened that’s a different issue.” She finished.

“I have no further questions of Mr. Lastman.” Replied Claudine before sitting down at her table next to Anya.

“Any examination you want to make of your client?” Judge Moone then posed to Mac.

Mac nodded then stood. “I would like to reserve at this time, your Honor.”

“All right.” Acknowledged Judge Moone before addressing me. “Sir, go ahead and take your seat at the counsel table.”

I nodded and then stood. “Okay. Thank you, your Honor.”

When I sat down at my seat next to Mac, I wanted to ask him how he think it went but before I could, Judge Moone spoke.

“Counsel, would you like to present your next witness?”

“Yes, your Honor.” Said Claudine Courtney as she rose from her seat. “Mr. Jackson Caiaphas.”