“She can be quite warm,” Nancy said dismissively, like that was a character flaw. “It creates a misimpression.”
“A misimpression. Exactly. You see—”
“No. You need to understand, you’re here to do legal research under the supervision of the law clerks. Your contact with Judge Conroy will be limited to observing her in court. You’re not to knock on her office door or try to initiate small talk or get face time. I know you Harvard kids are hot to network. But if you want to succeed here, keep your head down. Complete your assignments in a timely fashion. And never bother the judge. Are we clear?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Now, where was I? Oh, yes. The form. Take it home. Fill it out, sign the bottom. You’re affirming the truth of your responses under penalty of perjury—”
“Perjury?”
Her mouth went dry. There it was—possible criminal charges if she didn’t write Danny’s name down. Yet no way to speak to Judge Conroy in advance to clear up the misunderstanding. This was a freaking disaster, and she didn’t know who she was madder at—Danny or herself. She swallowed hard, hoping that the panic didn’t show on her face.
“Is that a problem?” Nancy said, giving her a sharp look.
“No, of course not.”
But Nancy was eyeing her suspiciously.
“Just so you know, I go over these things with a fine-tooth comb. Any misrepresentations or inaccuracies will be reported to your law school dean, as well as referred to the FBI for investigation.”
“I assure you, that won’t be necessary,” Madison said, as an anxious pulse beat in her throat.
“I hope not. Bring it back tomorrow when you start the job.”
After coming to terms on the hours Madison would work, they said good night. Nancy saw her out, shutting the chambers door firmly behind her.
Back in her dorm room, she scarfed down a Kind bar as she studied the specific wording of the question about family members. It was airtight, asking for the names, addresses, and Social Security numbers of mother, father, spouse, children, and siblings. For each, it asked you to fill in place of birth, immigration status, place of employment—and whether they’d been convicted of a crime. There was no way to avoid mentioning Danny, or his drug case, other than to lie, which obviously she wasn’t going to do. Lying to the judge during the interview had been a stupid mistake made in the heat of the moment. It was not intentional. And she didn’t plan to repeat it. That would be insane when the form had to be filled out in writing and signed under penalty of perjury, and Nancy had put her on notice that she’d be vetting it carefully.
Madison read through the form again, looking for a place to explain why she hadn’t brought up Danny in the interview. But there was no way to expound on your answers. No box saying “other” or “additional information,” only specific questions with limited space to respond. That was just as well. This problem was too big to fix with a couple of sentences on a form. If she wanted to salvage her working relationship with Conroy, she needed to speak to her personally. It was the only way. Nancy had made it clear that wouldn’t be happening in the office. She’d have to approach Judge Conroy after class, at the law school. But Conroy only taught once a week. Madison wouldn’t see her at the law school for days.
The form was due tomorrow.
She slept poorly that night. The next morning, she sleepwalked through her classes with the case manager’s voice echoing in her head. Perjury perjury perjury. At noon, she walked up to the door of the judge’s chambers with the employment form still uncompleted in her backpack. She was all about her career and new horizons, and normally, onboarding at a judicial internship would have been a thrill. Instead, she felt like she was taking her life in her hands, and not in a good way.
Kelsey, the receptionist, buzzed her in. She was sitting at her desk, eating a burrito.
“Everyone’s in court. You sit in the law clerks’ office. That way.”
She waved toward the back hall.
“Thanks.”
“Oh, wait. Employment form? Nancy said to collect it from you.”
Madison caught her breath. She’d been nursing a small spark of hope that they would forget, though of course they hadn’t.
“I’m still tracking down some addresses. Can I give it to you later?”
Kelsey’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline.
“Nancy hates when things are late. It’s your funeral.”
Kelsey turned back to her burrito. Madison found her way to the law clerks’ office with a sour taste in her throat. But the office was everything she’d imagined. Large and bright, with a great view of the city, yet messy and wonderfully lived in. Scuffed government-issue furniture, shelves of law books, and old metal filing cabinets that held the wisdom of the ages. It was a dream. There were three desks—two of them clearly occupied, covered in books and papers, coffee mugs, half-drunk bottles of water. The third desk was crammed in a corner, its surface clear except for a desktop computer and a folder with her name on it. She threw off her coat and sat down eagerly, opening it to find her first assignment, a jurisdictional issue she recognized from first-year Civil Procedure. She was officially a judicial intern, and it was going to be great. The Danny problem receded from her mind in her eagerness to get started.