“Take my life away,


    or give back the answer you hold.


    and stand unashamed


    of what you have done.


    Don’t just walk away,


    unlock the chains from your heart.


    Prove my innocence,


    cause I did no wrong.”


    “Innocent” ~ Threshold


    “Mr. Caiaphas, come on up and stand by the court reporter and raise your right hand.” instructed Judge Moone.


    I watched Jackson, storm his way to the witness stand like a five year old child having a hissy fit. Surprisingly, he didn’t give me a sideway glance, too focused on his impassioned trot to the exact place I wanted him.


    “You do 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?” asked the bailiff.


    “I do.” stated Jackson, succinctly.


    His direct "I do" gave me hope a dishonest man might see the seriousness in being questioned under oath. After all, being a Jewish man with a great reverence for God, he believed Jesus Christ was not the Messiah--unlike a Christian who believed Jesus Christ was the son of God and their sins would be forgiven through their belief in Him. So, if he bore false witness here based on the stricter belief system of Judaism, by lying under oath he would essentially forfeit eternity, all for just a moment in time. However, Jackson Caiaphas was legendary for his propensity to shatter vows he made to God.


    “State your full name please and spell your last name.” requested Judge Moone.


    “Jackson Caiaphas, C-A-I-A-P-H-A-S.”


    Judge Moone then nodded at Claudine. “When you’re ready.”


    As Claudine approached the witness stand, I leaned in with anticipation of the theatrics soon to be put on full display.


    “Mr. Caiaphas, good morning.” Claudine greeted, as if such pleasantries weren’t dispensed earlier to the psychopath who tried destroying my life with the help of others connected to the court system. “Are you familiar with a person by the name of Anya Caiphas?”


    Jackson nodded. “I am.”


    “And who is Anya Caiaphas?”


    “My wife of twenty-seven years.” he quipped.


    Twenty-seven years of dishonor and disloyalty, I told myself disgusted by his response. How he could even brag about that to anyone, knowing how his shitty marriage of twenty seven years affected my life, hit me in all the wrong places. Looking over at Mac, I hoped he''d object against this line of questioning on grounds of relevancy, or at least already known information, but he didn’t say a word. I almost started laughing sarcastically but held it in, fearful Judge Moone would use it against me.


    “Is she sitting to the left of me at the counsel table?” Claudine asked.


    “Yes.”


    Another question that should’ve raised the eyebrows of Judge Moone or Mac, went ignored by all, except me. Clearly, the court was aware Anya was Jackson’s wife. Is this what the court needed to confirm? That Anya was Jackson’s wife after a five year restraining order was granted to them? If the court didn’t know this by now, incompetence ruled the California court system.


    “During the course of your marriage, have you ever cheated on your wife?”


    Shaking his head. “Never.”


    After his reply, it was plain to see the lying game was back on the docket--Jackson’s goat horns showing. His answer to this question made me realize this was all being done for the kids. They actually believed their children would believe their father and mother would never lie in court. In their minds, all Anya and Jackson had to do was show them the court transcript and they’d somehow believe their parents would never commit perjury. That their parents respected the rule of law far too much to do such a thing, especially personally knowing the City Prosecutor of Long Beach. Instead of being honest with their children, they came to court to bear false witness about others and spew lies about their own lives.


    “During the course of your marriage did you ever cheat on you wife at which point it caused her to go into a…” Claudine suddenly pausing. “Let me strike that question.”


    The question suggested a stressful event, like being cheated on, could cause a woman to give birth prematurely—and Claudine didn’t want to make that representation to the court. Secondly, she already asked Jackson if he cheated on his wife. When she asked this yet again then backtracked her question, it exposed the game they played. What did it cause Anya to go into? The near description of Anya’s state during Jackson’s infidelity within the question suggested a specific symptom of not only having a premature birth that I never mentioned—giving credence that Jackson lied about his fidelity. Did it dawn on Judge Moone why I would make any of this up? After looking over at Mac, he immediately stood up sensing my agitation.


    “I’ll object, your Honor, to the first question on relevance grounds.” stated Mac.


    Mac caught the contradictory nature of the second question and objected quickly to nullify the first question and Jackson’s denying he ever cheated on Anya. If Jackson never cheated on Anya, as he claimed, then why was it necessary for Claudine to ask the second question?


    “Overruled.” answered Judge Moone. “The answer will stand.”


    Of course, I thought to myself as Claudine continued her quest to falsely prove I slandered Jackson instead of telling the truth about him.


    “How many children do you have with your wife?” asked Claudine.


    “Two.”


    “And what are their names?”


    “Andrew and Katie Caiaphas.”


    “Were either of your children born prematurely?”


    “No.”


    The more Jackson denied what I was told by Anya, the more I regretted not having them deposed. It would’ve given us the opportunity to subpoena Andrew’s birth records or request other documentation from the hospital to prove Andrew was born prematurely. Why would Anya ever lie to me about that?


    “Have you ever emotionally abused your wife?” continued Claudine.


    “No.”


    “Objection, relevance.” interjected Mac.


    “Overruled.” Responded Judge Moone.


    Where’s the offer of proof that was required when I was on the stand? What did all of this have to do with a request for a restraining order? Did Judge Moone expect him to admit anything negative I wrote about him was true? The truth was, the only reason Judge Moone overruled Mac’s objections was because she wanted me to call him a “liar” so she could wrap this case up.


    “Have you ever physically abused your wife?”


    “Never.” responded Jackson, now even doubting the authenticity of his response to this question because he answered the cheating question in the same manner.


    “Have you ever psychologically abused your wife, Anya Caiaphas?”


    “Never.”


    “Have you ever been diagnosed as a narcissist?”


    “I don’t even know what a narcissist is.” He exclaimed.


    Jackson’s political chops were on full display. He didn’t know what a narcissist was? Someone please, grab a mirror for the man I thought while shaking my head.


    “Have you ever been diagnosed as a psychopath?”


    “Never.”


    Until this day in court, I never knew one needed to be diagnosed as a psychopath to be considered one. Funny how I was never diagnosed as one, but both Teri Shamm and Jackson Caiaphas accused me of being psychotic without an official “diagnosis”. The more this obvious line of questioning continued, the more I risked imploding.


    “Counsel, can I interrupt for a moment?” asked Judge Moone.


    Claudine nodded while the judge discussed another matter she was reviewing while listening to this nonsense, making sense why she asked earlier who Katie and Andrew were. I couldn’t blame her for shifting her focus from Claudine’s ridiculous line of questioning, but it gave me a needed break to gather my thoughts before buckling up again. If Judge Moone was preoccupied reviewing another matter while listening to this nonsense, was her mind for the most part made up? It just didn’t make sense why she found this line of questioning relevant to their request for a restraining order because even if I slandered Jackson, which I did not, what’s the point of going through every line item?


    “Okay Counsel, you may resume.”


    “Let me reask the question.” said Claudine, looking down before peering up at Jackson, who leaned in. “Have you ever been diagnosed with any sort of personality disorder?”


    “Never.”


    Although the more appropriate question would be “have you ever been tested for a personality disorder”, it would require some internal honesty on their part. I just hoped Mac had questions lined up to catch him in the web of lies they were spinning.


    “Same objection, your Honor.” chimed Mac. “Relevance.”


    “That will be overruled and I guess I’ll deem it a continuing objection on the same line.” responded Judge Moone before addressing Claudine Courtney. “I assume, Counsel, what you’re doing is kind of going through what was put in the posts?”


    “Correct, your Honor.”


    “Okay, please continue.”


    This continued line of obvious questioning, as if Jackson would admit to any of it had nothing to do with what Judge Moone told us the court had to decide today. This was clearly a show put on for Katie and Andrew—hoping to prove what I wrote was not true in their eyes. The truth was that Dad was not only a liar but a cheat. That Dad did destroy another man’s marriage yet believed his was untouchable. Dad was such a piece of work, that Mom cheated on him not once but twice! The fact he would cheat on Anya alone, in my opinion, qualified him for psycho status. There was no question this slanderous line of questioning of my integrity was done to fool his children who may have actually believed me. And why wouldn’t they? They lived the lie every single day, even Andrew feared his mother would just walk out on all of them—something I’d never allow her to do even if she wanted to. Anya knew she had to face the folks if we’d ever be together. It’s why I let her run the show—so she had no argument for staying, yet her cowardice, on full display today, consumed her.


    Another reason for my disdain with this line of questioning was it was already submitted as an Exhibit and something I already admitted to authoring. A fair Judge wouldn’t allow this kind of questioning to avoid the postings to be taken out of context—which Judge Moone certainly knew Claudine was doing? Why not read the entire post since he’s obviously going to deny everything I wrote? They wanted Judge Moone to believe everything I wrote was slander and flat out lies? What about the good stuff I wrote about Jackson being a hard working successful business man? Was that a lie too? And why was Mac allowing this? Did he strike a deal with Claudine I didn’t know about? As Claudine continued to provoke me into breaking, I clutched at both sides of the bottom of my wooden chair and tried digging further in my foxhole.


    “Mr. Caiaphas, have you ever blackmailed your wife, Anya, with threats of suicide if she ever left you?”


    Jackson shook his head, closing his eyes. “Never.”


    “Have you ever had any personal contact with Judicial Officer Teri Shamm?”


    “I have not and don’t know who that is.”


    Jackson’s response was likely truthful here—his minion in sunglasses at court that day handled and arranged that. After Claudine posed this question, I hoped she asked about Donald Holbert—a chance to catch Jackson in a lie.


    “Have you ever been accused of any sort of corruption?”


    Jackson straightened his posture. “Never.”


    “Mr. Caiaphas, what is it that you do for a living?”


    “I own commercial real estate and just started an audio-visual integration firm.”


    “And would you indicate whether or not the business that you conduct requires due diligence?”


    “I’m not sure I follow you.” Jackson answered genuinely.


    “I mean, are there opportunities for your clients to do due diligence on you and your businesses?”


    “Of course, absolutely.” he responded, perking up again.


    “So, having false statements published on the internet could harm you or your businesses, correct?”


    “Tremendously.” he replied, looking directly at me.


    I recalled specifically writing in the dedication how his personal past actions were not a reflection of his business practices—only pointing out the names of his businesses so his dedication would not be confused with another Jackson Caiaphas who lived in Massachusetts. Even after he wrecked my career at KSR, my beef was with Jackson Caiaphas as Anya’s husband. My goal was never to take food out of the mouths of his children. Although he was a fraud, a lot of hard work and sacrifice goes into running your own business and becoming successful. For the most part, I believed he did that on the up and up—I’d never want to hurt his businesses knowing how hard they are to get off the ground with so many factors against him, mostly the tax burdens. He shouldn’t be vilified for being successful in business—that’s not why I wrote the dedications. What I wrote was in self-defense of all he tried to take me down with—nothing more and nothing less. Any man who truly loved someone with their entire being the way I loved Anya, would’ve went after him especially when he came after me. What he looked upon as being even with his wife, I looked upon as not being anyone’s free ride. I thought Mac object to this not being an issue in the dedications, blocking another attempt by Claudine Courtney to take my dedications out of context. Just when I thought this line of questioning couldn’t become less truthful, the next question solidified the purpose of all of it.


    “During the course of the last three years have you ever seen Mr. Lastman in and around your home in the neighborhood?”


    “Yes, in the last three years, yes.” He nodded, having to say it twice to help him believe something that never took place.


    I looked over at Mac and noticed him not taking notes when this question was posed. Nothing to remind him to ask Jackson for the exact times dates, or the color of the car I drove, or the license plate of my car and how he knew it was me. His answers to these questions seemed to suggest he planned to hand the transcript over to his kids. Since Daddy said this all under oath, it had to be true. Daddy would never have an incentive to lie about anything because we all knew Daddy wouldn’t want to be found out as a liar all these years. His answer to this question made me shake my head in disgust as I held myself back from calling him a liar—the first time I showed any emotions during his own perjuring.


    “Have you ever given Mr. Lastman permission to publish false and defamatory statements about you?”


    “I have not!” shouted Jackson.


    Why in God’s name would anyone give someone permission to publish false and defamatory statements about them? Especially after he just denied all I wrote was false? It seemed Judge Moone was reviewing another case instead of paying attention to this one. After I heard this question, I knew this line of questioning was to try and prove what I wrote was entirely slanderous. That nothing I wrote was true. Claudine was basically asking the person who just pulled off the Lufthansa heist if they stole anything—there seemed to be a great conflict of interest here because why would Jackson admit to anything being true? Why couldn’t Judge Moone simply ascertain that due to the nature of our extramarital relationship that Jackson had an incentive to lie and cover up all he did and is? At this point, I just needed to take a breath, remain patient, and believe Mac would challenge him on his claims.


    “Have you given him permission to publish anything about you?”


    “I’ve never given anyone permission to publish things about me unless they were business publications or things specific to my industry. In which, they are always a written request that I review and approve.” He explained.


    “I have no further questions.” announced Claudine, leaving me in a state of shock.


    “Cross-examine.” motioned Judge Moone to Mac.


    “Thank you.” said Mac, rising from his seat before walking towards Jackson.


    “Mr. Caiaphas, did you take a letter about Mr. Lastman over to the places of business of his clients and to his father?


    Going right for his jugular with this question, my faith was instantly restored in Mac. It just felt good to know someone was finally going to bat for me.


    “I did not take a letter to the places of business of his clients or his father.” exclaimed Jackson, clearly shaken.


    “Let me rephrase that.” replied Mac, pointing a finger at Jackson. “Did you see fit that a letter be delivered to Mr. Lastman’s business clients and to his father?”


    The combination of the Mac’s words “see fit” was brilliant—putting inside the court’s mind doing such a thing was not something a man of fit mind would do, let alone ever consider doing. Essentially showing the court you didn’t need to be necessarily diagnosed as a psychopath to be one.


    “I did.” He replied without blinking an eye. “Yes, Sir.”


    When Jackson admitted to sending the letters to my business clients it didn’t surprise me—I knew all along he wanted to say it—that he was angry he had to answer for a crime he felt was justified, the same way I felt about sending Anya’s gifts to him. Jackson was far too arrogant not to admit he sent those letters to my clients and to my father and having the audacity to call me a psychopath without ever being “diagnosed” as such. Jackson admitting to his act alone should show Judge Moone why the dedications were written, notwithstanding the all the lies told in this court and to others and his provocations over the last five years.


    “Who delivered that letter?” asked Mac.


    “The U.S. Mail.” answered Jackson, just like a politician would. Proving to the court he’d never admit to doing even the things he clearly did; let alone anything I claimed he did in the dedications.


    “Okay, do you remember when you did that?”


    “During, you know, possibly three years ago.”


    father?” asked Judge Moone, seemingly shocked.


    Judge Moone''s tone clearly indicated she was taken aback by Jackson sending a letter to my father’s home—likely sensing this provocation spurred my publication of his dedication. If the entire dedication was presented in court, it would provide on record, the reasons it was written. Why all the dedications were written. A sense of elation filled inside watching Jackson smugness on the stand come to a screeching halt—suddenly caught in his web of lies. I wanted to make sure Mac also asked him how he found the addresses to send it to—proving he cyberstalked me. The goal was to show Judge Moone that Jackson Caiaphas had every reason in the world to lie and we’re here today because he put me in the position to defend myself by utilizing the truth.Again, Jackson instigated this by choosing to stalk me on Facebook then confront his wife about our relationship. Making matters worse was Anya not being honest with him after I trusted her to be. Over the years, I’ve come to understand why she didn’t admit to the relationship but when the cops were suddenly involved, and others with power, they put me in the position to defend myself. The arrogance of two people who have cheated on each other for the entire course of their twenty seven year marriage trying to hold the reactions of someone they hurt accountable was off the charts. This is what money does to some people—it turns them into self-righteous human beings. My dedications were written and posted in self- defense after years of provocations. Now, they were trying to punish me for their decisions to lie to all those around them.


    “Yes, ma’am.” confirmed Jackson, beaming.


    “And do you remember what was in that letter?” asked Mac.


    “I do. Would you like me to tell you?” responded Jackson, chomping at the bit.


    “I’d like to know if you remember what…”


    “Yes, I do.” he proudly announced.


    “So, you do remember what was in it.”


    “Yes, Sir.”


    “You still have a copy of it?”


    “I’m not sure if I do.”


    I shook my head at his “I’m not sure if I do”. How else would he remember what the letter contained? I wrote Anya a ton of letters and wouldn’t remember much of what I wrote without having a copy of it.


    “I’ll object to this line of questioning as to relevance and time.” interjected Claudine.


    Claudine’s objection was rather ambitious considering she claimed both relevance and time. This coming from the same person who accused me of writing posts from seven years ago! Now she objects to relevance and time? How convenient for Claudine to have her objection due to relevance and time sustained. This has been going on for ten years because time is relevant in this hearing. Judge Moone would certainly have to overrule this like she did with Mac’s objections due to relevance.


    “What is the offer of proof, Counsel?” inquired Judge Moone of Mac.


    “That there is provocative interaction going on between this particular witness and the respondent in this action.” Mac stated clearly and resoundingly.


    “You want to articulate what the provocative action is?” inquired Judge Moone further “Did he challenge Mr. Lastman to a duel or what?”


    When Judge Moone said this, I wanted to yell at her “what is normal about him mailing a letter to my clients?” How is that not a provocative action? That him challenging me to a fight was the only legitimate provocation for the dedications? Didn’t she hear earlier that I believed he was colluding with those in power to harm me? Wouldn’t that be a provocative action. If it disturbed my peace, enough to write such a venomous dedication, wouldn’t that prove these acts were in their very nature provocative? When she mentioned “challenged me to a duel”, it did not set well with me. It started to feel like she was looking for ways to hand them another restraining order.


    “You know what, your Honor.” Said Mac, stepping away from Jackson. “I’m going to ask Mr. Caiaphas some specific questions about that letter if that’s okay with the court?”


    “Well again, how does that relate to the request by Mrs. Caiaphas for a restraining order against your client?”


    “This is a letter that is provocative in nature in terms of accusing Mr. Lastman of being mentally ill and disturbed and addicted to pain medication, and it was also delivered to…” paused Mac while perusing the letter’s contents before handing it to Judge Moone. “There were other people it was delivered to.”


    “But how does that bear on your client’s contact or the publication of the dedication, which I understand is probably the basis for the restraining order that’s before the court?” pressed Judge Moone, clearly not seeing the obvious connection after receiving the letter from Mac.


    “The connection, your Honor, is that the interaction between these people—well, that they, Jackson Caiaphas and his wife, Anya Caiaphas, don’t come before you with clean hands.” clarified Mac. “The general basis for, the general offer of proof.”


    “Have you seen the letter, Counsel?” asked Judge Moone to Claudine Courtney.


    “I have not.” replied Claudine Courtney without blinking an eye.


    This was the same letter I handed to Claudine Courtney during our last meeting—after informing me I had to provide that to her. When she lied about never receiving the letter, Claudine morphed into the same cheat the client she represented were. At this moment, not only did she lose all professionalism in my eyes, she also proved the only way her client could defeat me is if they lied to Judge Moone—the same way they did to Judicial Officer Teri Shamm. These people were only professionals in lying and cheating. It was so ingrained in them to lie and cheat they have turned it into an art form. All I could do was hope the justice system would seek the truth and not sympathy for those who have to lie and cheat to get ahead in life.


    “All right. Why don’t you take a look at it?” instructed Judge Moone.


    “I’d like to have a moment, your Honor.” interjected Mac, before handing another copy of the letter to Claudine.


    As Claudine reviewed the letter with Anya, it looked at Jackson Caiaphas fidgeting about in the witness stand like he was waiting for electrodes to be strapped to the top of his skull. He had to have known he botched things by admitting he authored and mailed the letter to my clients. If Jackson truly had no idea what a narcissist was, I would venture to say at this moment only a narcissist would admit to doing such a thing believing he was justified. After a few minutes passed, Judge Moone addressed Claudine Courtney.


    “All right, having viewed the letter Counsel, do you still maintain your objection?”


    “Yes, your Honor.” replied Claudine Courtney.


    “I’m going to overrule it—I’m going to allow some limited inquiry to get a sense of the contact between the Caiaphas family and Mr. Lastman that might have given rise to the dedication being made.” she ruled, nodding. “So, limited inquiry. Counsel may proceed,”


    I couldn’t believe it Judge Moone overruled Claudine’s objection. Even better was her response “contact between the Caiaphas family and Mr. Lastman that might have given rise to the dedication being made”. It provided me with hope the court was willing to recognize the dedications were written in self-defense and not to harass the Caiaphas family. We now had Jackson backed in a corner, the smell of blood in the water.


    “I understand your Honor. Thank you.” acknowledged Mac. “Mr. Caiaphas, do you recall this letter explaining that you’re sending a package to the father and clients of Mr. Lastman, because he’s mentally ill and disturbed?”


    Appearing to be rattled, Jackson squirmed in his chair before answering. “Can you clarify the question? Are you asking me do I remember seeing the letter?”


    Conveniently, Jackson now developed a sudden case of amnesia regarding the contents of the letter.


    “Do you recall, at the beginning of the letter that provides an explanation that you’re sending this package because “your son Landyn is mentally ill and disturbed”? remined Mac.


    “I wrote that.” nodded Jackson defiantly, still fidgeting about in his chair providing Judge Moone with other criteria on which to judge the witness.


    “Okay.” replied Mac, adjusting his glasses.


    Jackson then shifted his body to the Judge Moone—his hands holding the chair tightly.  “Am I allowed to ask a question?”


    “No. Wait for the question or your attorney to follow up.” Replied Judge Moone without giving Jackson a warning—the same one I’m sure she knew his attorney gave to him as well.


    “Yes, ma’am.”


    “And did you accuse Mr. Lastman of being addicted to pain medication in this letter?” questioned Mac. “Is that correct?”


    Jackson nodded. “I wrote that. Yes.”


    “Okay. And you had this delivered to Kelly’s Restaurant in Long Beach, correct?”


    “Is that a question?” retorted Jackson Caiaphas, clearly agitated.


    “Yes.”


    “I did.”


    “And you had it delivered to Paul Lastman at his residence in Harbor City, correct?”


    “I did.”


    “And you had it delivered to Anodyne Tech in Newport Beach, correct?”


    “I did.”


    “Okay, all right.” said Mac peering down in reflection before raising his head. “Did you ever call Mr. Lastman?”


    This completely unexpected question felt like hitting a home run. If Jackson felt justified sending the letters, why wouldn’t he also admit to the phone calls he made using a spoof app?


    “No.” lied Jackson.


    “You never called him in June of Two-Thousand Thirteen?” pressed Mac.


    “No.”


    “Isn’t that the same time you sent these letters?”


    “I don’t recall the date the letters were sent.” claimed Jackson, suddenly an amnesiac.


    Still bound by the restraining order, to avoid any further accusations of violating the order, I waited until it to expired before posting the dedications in direct response to the letters and phone calls. Jackson’s provocations should provide evidence to Judge Moone, or any real judge who pursued the truth, that I respected the order, although I believed it to be illegal. If Judge Moone couldn’t see the lawfare that Jackson waged against me, our justice system was truly broken.


    “And are you aware that all of these alleged posts are not up anymore, correct?” continued Mac.


    “I’m not aware of that because I have not researched it recently.” Jackson shot back. “So, no I’m not aware of this.”


    “Just to clarify, when you say alleged posts, you’re talking about the dedications in exhibits one, two and three?” inquired Judge Moone of Mac.


    “Yes, and actually, I’m talking about all of the information that was referred to…all the exhibits, your Honor.” Mac clarified.


    “I would like to respond to your question.” Jackson snapped, who already answered the last question Mac posed to him.


    “Well, hang on a second. I want to clarify for the record.” replied Judge Moone holding up her right palm to Jackson while she used her other hand to shuffle through some documents. “So, when you say posts, although Mr. Caiaphas was in the courtroom while Mr. Lastman was testifying, he didn’t see the exhibits. So, I’ll hand those to you, Sir.”


    “Thank you, your Honor. That was not a very well worded question. I’m sorry.” Mac responded to Judge Moone, leaving me unsure why he felt the last question was poorly presented.


    “I’m only showing the first three exhibits to be introduced.” Judge Moone explained to Mac what she just handed over to Jackson. “The others I have just marked for identification, but didn’t allow the petitioner’s counsel to inquire on them.”


    “I am familiar. This is where Mr. Lastman specifically says that I am represented by Colton Clarke.” Jackson stated, using his index finger to follow along with the document. “So, he’s…this is where I believe where he is saying that I am, in fact, one of the characters in his book. Is this what you’re referring to?”


    Mac looked blankly at Jackson before rephrasing his previous question. “My question is are you aware that these posts, all of them, no longer exist on the internet?”The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    “I’m aware I’ve seen these posts posted on the internet and then taken down and then reposted on the internet.” Jackson said, peering up at Mac. “So, I’m not aware at this time because I’m not looking for them.”


    I had to laugh realizing “not looking for them” really meant “the last time he looked they were no longer there”. In all fairness to Jackson, although once I removed the dedications, I never reposted them, he likely wasn’t trying to be deceptive. He just didn’t know the difference between the dedications and the new chapters I posted to the story on the website. Then again, Jackson also knew lying was his only way to beat me. So, there was a better than great possibility he knew if I removed them, after claiming they were intentionally false statements made by me, the court would have a harder time justifying their request for a restraining order since what annoyed them has ceased. Most restraining orders, if not all, were issued because there was no end in sight to the provocative behavior. Although I gave Jackson the benefit of the doubt here, he has done nothing but prove time and time again in court on this day that he was a professional con artist.


    “When did you first see them posted?” asked Mac.


    “I believe on the date they were posted.”


    “You just happened to notice them on the date they were posted?” laughed Mac. “How is that possible if you weren’t searching for them?”


    “No, I set up Google Alert because I was constantly being harassed.” Jackson whined, another attempt to mislead Judge Moone as to why he sent the letters. “And if you’re familiar with a Google Alert, it just notifies you when something is being said about you.”


    “Okay, I guess there isn’t any question pending.” Mac acknowledged.


    I couldn’t believe Mac left him off the hook here. Why didn’t he ask for evidence that he has been constantly harassed? After he sent letters along with my emails to Debbie to my father and clients, he felt the dedications were harassing? How about him cyberstalking me for two years on Facebook? After calling me using a Spoof App? Where is the proof of this “constant harassment”? Jackson complaining about being constantly harassed would be on par with Osama Bin Laden complaining that the government of the United States won’t leave him alone. Why didn’t Mac press him on this?


    “The court appreciates the explanation of Google Alert.” Judge Moone recognized.


    “So, then at some point, since you have Google Alerts set-up, then you became aware they were taken down?” Mac struck back.


    “I was not aware of that, Sir.” Jackson falsely claimed.


    He claimed he was aware the dedications were removed from the internet then reposted. If he had configured Google Alert, wouldn’t he become aware when they were reposted? His admitting to setting up Google Alert now sent him backpedaling.


    “Well, then you need to clarify your answer then because you said you were aware the posts were up then they were taken down and then reposted.” added Judge Moone. “So, the taken down portion of your answer, what did you mean by that?”


    Did Judge Moone now see that Jackson was lying? That he had an incentive to? That his entire marriage was a twenty-seven year lie?


    “Oh, let me clarify that.” responded Jackson, jumping at the chance to clarify his lie. “I was aware they were put up and then I was aware that there was activity where they were not there because, again, Google Alerts shows you activity. Then I was aware when another post or another dedication went up. So, my understanding, not being a computer expert, there were several times they were put on the internet then taken down and put on. At this point, I just stopped looking or being made aware of it.”


    The key words in his response was “not being a computer expert” and hoped Judge Moone paid attention to that key bit of testimony. It proved why Jackson thought they were reposted, because he couldn’t tell the difference between a dedication being posted or a chapter to the story being posted—leading me to believe Google Alerts also alerted him to anything I posted; setting up Google Alerts using my name, along with his, to notify him of postings. His admitting to not being a “computer expert” lending to the fact he thought the dedications were reposted but may have been mistaken. And he was greatly mistaken—I never reposted the dedications after removing them especially Claudine told me their kids may have seen them.


    “So, your testimony is that your Google Alert hasn’t told you whether they’re posted yet or not?” asked Mac.


    “I took off the Google Alert because I could not continue to deal with all this stuff.”


    Inside, I could only laugh— “all this stuff” he brought upon himself. If he hadn’t stalked me on Facebook, lied about me to others in power, or tried to provoke me into breaking the restraining order by calling me using a spoof app. If he had not threatened to destroy me, challenge me to a fight or tried to take my CPA license from me. And if he hadn’t sent letters to my father’s home and to the places of business of my clients along my emails to Debbie, then he wouldn’t have had to deal with any of this “stuff.” Him having to set up Google Alerts to deal with all this stuff was vindicating in so many ways.


    “When was the last time the Google Alert told you that these posts were taken down?” continued Mac.


    “I don’t know the exact date, Sir.”


    “Okay, your business is a commercial real estate firm.”


    “Yes, Sir.”


    “You provide office space for people who need it?”


    “Not for people. For large corporations and businesses.”


    “Okay.” Said Mac, walking away before sitting against our table. “Does that include any government agencies?”


    “Yes, but we’re don’t really lease office space to governments.” Answered Jackson, loudly, his posture suggesting he was uncomfortable. “We are mostly public and private.”


    “All right.” Said Mac pushing himself lightly from the table and walking back towards him. “Have you ever leased office space to the Long Beach City Prosecutor’s office?”


    When Mac asked this question, I nodded in Jackson’s direction, making sure he saw me as he nervously adjusted his tie. I had the screenshot of his Company promoting their tenancy on my phone—there’s no way he could lie about this one. His collusion with Donald Holbert nearly putting me in prison to ruin my life all to protect a twenty-seven year godforsaken marriage driven by money and lies.


    “Objection, relevance.” Claudine Courtney quickly intervened, trying to save her client from having his political corruption exposed, blowing up his entire previous testimony.


    Judge Moone then looked over at Mac. “Offer of proof?”


    Before Mac could speak, Judge Moone spoke again. “You didn’t want to get into the post that I marked for identification and excluded.”


    “I’ll withdraw, your Honor.” Replied Mac.


    Withdraw? Let’s get in those posts! They couldn’t prove I authored them regardless of political corruption being mentioned within them. And if they believed me to be a liar, they would have to believe he was a liar as well. Wouldn’t that force Judge Moone to stop wasting taxpayers money and dismiss the case? How could she put faith in either party? Donald Holbert’s involvement was the key to this extreme need to defend myself so vigorously! The key to understanding why this has been going on for so many years! Why my dedications were posted in self-defense—that they served a legitimate purpose in response to Jackson’s tactics! Before I could pull Mac aside have a private conference with him to reconsider his withdrawal, he broke into another question.


    “What was your other business?”


    “I have an audio visual integration firm.” Jackson announced.


    “Integration?” asked Mac, stepping closer to Jackson. “Is that technical?”


    “It’s a tech company.” boasted Jackson.


    I guess Mac withdrew because he believed to be another path to prove Jackson’s adeptness to lying. How does a person who claims not to be a “computer expert” qualified to run a “tech” company? I knew exactly where Mac was going with this—to prove Jackson’s dishonest nature in real time.


    “And so audio visual currently is primarily computer based?” pressed Mac.


    “No, it’s not computer based.” responded Jackson, squirming in his seat. “It would be videoconferencing, teleconferencing, collaboration environments, video walls, systems you see in microphone systems. Nothing is computerized—it’s not I.T. at all.”


    “But isn’t that stuff all computerized now?” countered Mac, shaking his head, smiling.


    “It’s not necessarily computer based.” replied a now hoarse Jackson, loosening the tie around his neck. “It’s basically the displays in the electronics that drive functionality.”


    “And your customers…who provides them with the services regarding the computers that go along with these?” questioned Mac, unwilling to relent.


    “Objection. Relevance.” interceded Claudine Courtney.


    “What’s the offer of proof as to how his business operates?” asked Judge Moone.


    “I’m just—the offer of proof is that I believe the current state of the technology of audio integration systems are computer based, your Honor.” answered Mac.


    “How does that relate to the restraining order?” inquired Judge Moone.


    “That it would make Mr. Caiaphas, a proud owner of a tech firm, as much of a computer expert as anyone in this room.” Mac replied.


    It was easy to see what Mac portrayed to the court—that Jackson Caiaphas was a dishonest business owner, a dishonest husband and worst of all, a dishonest human being. The court should clearly see how Jackson has not only contradicted himself but has also exposed his ability to deceive those around him. How does one who claimed not to be a computer expert when it came to Google Alert yet is running a computer based environment related business he claimed in his own word was a “tech” firm? If Judge Moone couldn’t make heads or tails of this, she was either not paying attention to anything being said and asked or incompetent and unqualified to hear a case of this nature.


    “And so, what does that have to do with the publication of this?” questioned Judge Moone of Mac.


    “The inference is that one would argue from there, your Honor.”


    “All right, the relevancy objection is sustained.” ruled Judge Moone. “Next question.”


    How could Mac’s line of questioning here not be relevant in consideration of Jackson’s propensity to lie? Hasn’t he already proven not to be a credible witness? He claimed not to be a “computer expert” but is the owner of an audio integration tech company? How come she couldn’t see the reason behind Mac’s line of questioning? It would clearly show the court Jackson was not being honest—that he did know exactly how Google Alerts worked and that he lied about the dedications being reposted. She even stole from me Donald Holbert’s clear involvement being considered—that he lied about colluding with political allies against me. What is he doing owning an audio visual integration tech firm without knowing how Google Alert worked? Judge Moone saved Jackson Caiaphas by ruling Mac’s line of questioning was irrelevant. His answers had everything to do with the request for a restraining order and why the dedications were published in the first place—and she intentionally ignored it, stealing my right to self-defense, my first amendment constitutional right, right from under me.


    “When you were at court here with Mr. Lastman, you were very demonstrably upset with him, were you not, Mr. Caiaphas?” continued Mac, unexpectedly opening Jackson’s box, paling in comparison to Pandora’s.


    “I was not!” He lied, consistent with his entire given testimony on this day.


    “Did you confront Mr. Lastman in the courthouse, or in the hallway just outside this very courtroom?” pressed Mac, intentionally alluding to Claudine’s previous line of questioning to me about being convicted of violating the restraining order.


    “I walked out to get a glass…um…to get a drink of water from the fountain.” stammered Jackson, caught in a rundown. “Mr. Lastman was next to the fountain…and when you say upset, I went to get a drink of water.”


    “Okay…all right.” Mac nodded, now rubbing his chin. “When you went to get that drink of water was that a court date I was actually present at?”


    “I believe it was the last time we were here that he was represented.” Jackson claimed. “Yes.”


    Mac nodded again, looking back at me. “Okay, all right. And the time before that when I wasn’t here. The day I had my client request a continuance; did you confront Mr. Lastman?”


    “I did not!” doubled down Jackson, continuing his consistent acts of perjury.


    This lie bothered me greatly because I informed Mac of his ambush of me on the very first day. If Jackson somehow convinced Mac that I was being dishonest about his assault of me that day, then Mac could lose trust in me. If he lost trust in the truth, there’s not way he’d be able to defend me. I wanted to yell out to Mac he was lying, but didn’t want to give Judge Moone any more of a reason to pass unfair judgment upon me.


    “Okay.” Said Mac, shaking his head before looking back at me. “Did you have any interaction with Mr. Lastman on the time before the court date and after the court date I showed up here?”


    “Objection. Relevance.” shot Courtney, who knew her client was lying and tried desperately to save their case.


    “Well, first off, it’s just vague.” defended Judge Moone. “So, I’m going to ask did you have any contact with Mr. Lastman on the date of December Twenty-Seventh Two Thousand Seventeen?”


    I thought the better question would’ve been did you initiate any contact with Mr. Lastman in an emotional or provocative fashion on that particular date? But, Judge Moone did not decide to hear this case to prove me innocent. After Judge Moone questioned the clarity of Mac’s questions, I reached inside my the pocket of my pant, pulling out a list of questions I had written down for Jackson—in case Mac needed them.


    “Yes ma’am, I did.” Jackson answered honestly.


    “Follow up from there.” instructed Judge Moone to Mac.


    “Okay. Now we’re getting somewhere.” Mac wisecracked. “Now, why did you have contact with Mr. Lastman on the date the court specified?”


    “Yes. Why did you have contact with Mr. Lastman on December Twenty-Seventh?” repeated Judge Moone, who leaned in what appeared to be with impartial ears.


    “I said to Mr. Lastman, it’s been ten years, why can’t you move on with your life?” explained Jackson through a false dialogue that never took place. “Why is it that you continue to harass us? Why did you reach out to my kids? Why are you trying to defame me? It’s been ten years. Can’t you move on with your life?”


    When Jackson pleaded this to the court, playing the role of innocent victim, it made me realize I needed to pull Mac aside and tell him to put me on the stand—to ask me why this has been going on for ten years. These lies about me, his false fucking testimony from claiming he’s not colluding with public officials to destroy my life to claiming he never cheated on his wife, to claiming he saw me around his neighborhood driving around to claiming I’ve done nothing but slander him, was the reason why this was impossible for me to let go of. If Jackson wanted peace, he should’ve shown honesty and I would’ve shown grace and mercy as I am commanded to do by God. Instead, he made the wide-eyed decision to bear false witness and when he did that, in my mind it became life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand and foot for foot. Although I listed my reasons for the dedications to Katie and Andrew in fine print, he broke his oath of honesty before God and to the Court, lying directly to Judge Moone about my reasons. It was only fair to put me on the stand so I could refute his testimony. Mac could ask me is Mr. Caiaphas lying about his testimony? And when I respond with a resounding “yes” after I took an oath to the court to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God, we’ll see if Judge Moone treats my oath to the court as seriously as she treated Jackson’s. I knew full well from experiencing Judicial Officer Teri Shamm’s “the family is always right” courtroom that she was going to buy all of this absolute garbage, every single word he spewed from the crooked orifice he called a mouth. Judge Moone clearly wanted to believe the father of two children so she could protect them, without any regard to what the truth was. She was going to look at the first order as a lawfully obtained restrained order, regardless of the fact it was obtained with lies about me. Before I could ask for Mac to step aside for a small conference to demand him to put me on the stand to refute Jackson’s lies, the web only continued to grow.


    “At which time Mr. Lastman started making accusations that I’m in corruption with the government and the court systems and started yelling at me.” Jackson responded, at least in half-truths—I recalled telling him that in some form. “He then pulled out his video phone or his camera and tried to video me and started telling me I was in corruption with the court system and all the judges. I don’t know one judge in any court system other than being in court today.”


    “Okay, and you believe that Mr. Lastman has this interaction recorded?” Mac responded.


    “I don’t know, but he said…he pulled out his phone. He aimed it at me and started saying he was videoing me and I walked away.” replied Jackson.


    Jackson’s response was truthful in this regards, although at this point he had no choice but to walk away in defeat.


    “All right, who was present when this happened?” Mac inquired, putting his hand through his hair.


    “I was and Mr. Lastman was.”


    “Anyone else?”


    “I think anybody that may have been waiting for court.”


    “Was your wife present?”


    “No.”


    “Was your wife’s attorney present?”


    “No.” answered Jackson, confusion setting on his face. “When you say present are you talking about specifically next to me or in this courtroom?”


    “That was a bad question. Let me withdraw that.” reversed Mac, shaking his head. “Was your wife or her attorney able to observe this interaction visually or could they hear it?”


    “If my wife—I can’t speak for what other people can hear or see. My wife and our representation, our attorney, was not at the water fountain at the time I was there.”


    “That’s where this conversation occurred?” asked Judge Moone.


    “Yes, ma’am.”


    This was not a “conversation” but a confrontation spurred by Jackson. The presentation of the two confrontations, especially the first which was simple assault in the legal sense, was not being properly communicated by Mac. He had no choice but to bring me up on the stand as a witness to straighten this entire mess out—there was no way around it. In my eyes, I’ve heard this song before and Judge Moone, just like Teri Shamm, appeared to be leaning towards siding with the demon.


    “I’m just a little confused on this.” Mac disclosed, shaking his head. “I don’t know how necessary it is but the water fountain incident was when I was actually here with Mr. Lastman, the interaction I’m referring to happened earlier—when I wasn’t here. I understood the date the court gave you…”


    “What I’m talking about is the date I went to the water fountain.” jumped Jackson trying to avoid any questions regarding his crazed ambush on the first trial date. “So, if I’m mixed up on the dates, then I would like to correct that. But with the date I went to the water fountain...”


    “But there was another incident in December where you had an interaction with Mr. Lastman here at the courthouse?”


    “No.” Jackson lied, shaking his head.


    “So, there has only been one time at the water fountain?” asked Judge Moone seeking clarification.


    “Yes, ma’am.” Jackson broke his oath to the court yet again, this time directly to the Judge.


    Judge Moone then turned to Mac. “Anything else, Counsel?”


    “I have nothing at this time, Your Honor.” Responded Mac, walking away from where Jackson sat.


    “Okay. Any redirect?”


    “Yes.” Claudine announced, quickly rising from her seat to approach Jackson.


    “Mr. Simon asked you about a letter that you sent to Mr. Lastman’s father.” inquired Claudine of her client. “Why is it that you wrote him that letter?”


    As Mac sat down next to me, I looked over at him and shook my head knowing more lies would soon spew from the mouth of this demon. All I could do was pray I would not get agitated enough for it to show when Jackson played the role of victim. There was no justification for sending the letter to my father other than to provoke me into breaking the restraining order—that was its true intent and if the Judge couldn’t even consider that a possibility, this Judge could care less about the truth. Why do we even bother taking oaths in court anymore if the judge herself doesn’t intend on seeking the truth so justice could prevail.


    “We had a restraining order in place at the time and it seemed that Mr. Lastman would not abide by the restraining order. He tried to reach out to my daughter on Linked-In.” Jackson lied yet again, intentionally taking my actions out of complete context. “There were several occasions where he was just trying to contact us even with ongoing violations of the restraining order.”


    Upon hearing this absolute lie, one after the other, I took a deep breath to tell myself, Mac will bring me back on the stand. This this was the reason why he reserved when Judge Moone asked him if he had any questions for me. These lies all needed to be refuted and defended. I never viewed Katie’s Linked-In profile with the intent to contact her—it wasn’t even a thought. Judge Moone will know the truth when Mac brings me back on the stand and there will definitely be no question in her mind why this has been going on for ten years.


    “My wife tried reaching out to the Long Beach Police department and make them aware of these incidents.” He told Judge Moone, something Anya likely never did but lied to him about doing. “And I believed at the time that, because he was not abiding by the restraining order, I wanted to make his father aware that there was a behavior and a pattern that I was asking them to get involved with and talk to him about. It was abnormal that seven years later he’s still obsessed and trying to contact us and destroy our lives, reaching out to my children. So, I asked his father, please do something, and talk to him. Tell him to move on with his life.”


    Telling someone to move on with their life, after all I’ve endured, was the purest form of harassment. If he truly believed he was appealing to my father, his demanding that someone move on with their life was not a message that would ever be received as non-provoking, especially coming from the man who threatened to destroy my life and used the power of Donald Holbert’s City Prosecutor’s office, a tenant of his, to attempt it.


    “So, you were only appealing to his father to assist you and your family from not having contact?”  Claudine added, trying to massage his response to just being a good deed.


    “Yes, Ma’am.” Jackson concurred, building on his fraudulent persona.” And I sent that to his father directly and no one else because I felt at least maybe his family could counsel him and talk with him about moving on.”


    The more I listened to Jackson lie about his motives for the letter, how the man who threatened to destroy me was now reaching out in an act of caring about my well-being, the more it appeared his life was now being destroyed by his own threats. The same man who threatened to destroy my life only with lies and defamation was now whining about his life being destroyed by the man who held the real power—me; he one who held the truth like a loaded gun to his temple. The decisions he made to cheat on his wife and to disrespect and dishonor her, not only ruined another man’s marriage and caused his son’s premature birth but threatened to destroy my life. And if I had to subpoena Andrew’s medical records to prove it, I would. His lies in court made me want to file a lawsuit against him for malicious prosecution, intentional infliction of emotional distress and defamation of character—I lied about nothing other than being Miranda Dobbins which paled in comparison to the lies he told Judge Moone. If my life truly was on the verge of ending, then I needed to fight this until the bitter end and Jackson’s false testimony ensured I would never move on until the truth was known—ten years was nothing. I may have lost a battle, but I planned to win this war. Jackson would not get away with this.


    “And at the point in time that you sent that letter, you indicated there had been repeated violations of the restraining order?” pushed Claudine, pushing the false narrative like a typical house politician, adding her name to my lawsuit aspirations.


    “Yes I did. Which there had been that are documented on file.” Jackson falsely asserted.


    “I have no further questions.” stated Claudine, leaving the witness stand to return to her seat.


    “Any further recross?” asked Judge Moone.


    Mac then looked at me, seeing the irritation in my face.


    “He’s lied about pretty much everything, Mac.” I told him, trying to maintain my cool.


    “One moment, your Honor. If I could just have one moment.” Asked Mac before addressing me.


    “I think we need to show this Judge nearly his entire testimony has been dishonest—it’s even there in his dedication.” I explained. “For instance, I wrote a paragraph defending him as a businessman. We should point that out.”


    Mac nodded then addressed the Judge. “Your Honor, I have a question about what has been marked as evidence, Petitioner’s Two.”


    “Okay, did I hand those exhibits to you, Sir?” inquired Judge Moone. “What has been marked as Petitioner’s Two was the dedication submitted November Twenty-Fourth Two Thousand Sixteen, dedication to Jackson Caiaphas.”


    “All right, I have it.” acknowledged Mac standing next to me before walking toward the witness stand. “Okay, Mr. Caiaphas, you read that dedication, correct?”


    “I have read it, Sir.”


    “All right.” Mac said, pointing to the paragraph on the document he held in his hand. “And in the second paragraph isn’t there a reference disclaiming that this was some kind of indictment of your business practices and that there is some declaration…”


    “Can you explain that a little bit more?” interrupted Jackson, tilting his head.


    “Can I approach your Honor?”


    “Yes, and show him. Point it out to counsel, too.”


    Mac handed Jackson the dedication he claimed to have read then used his index finger to guide his eyes to the paragraph in question.


    “Paragraph number two.” directed Mac. “Did you read that?”


    “Yes, Sir.”


    “Okay. Isn’t that an indication that this dedication is not an indictment of Jackson Caiaphas’s businesses and business practices and that he provides quality services to his clients?”


    “So, I’ll try to provide an answer to that.” Jackson responded, clearly irritated that if he saw everything in the dedication as slander, how he was going to prove that was slanderous as well. “Are you asking me yes or no?”


    “Yeah, isn’t that what that is?”


    “What I read out of this, is that it’s specifically not indicting me by telling which businesses they are so there is no…so, it’s specific.” stammered Jackson.


    “Not ambiguous.” Judge Moone noted.


    “Right. They’re specifically saying it’s me and my two businesses. And that he states that this is not an indictment of Jackson’s business practices.” Jackson confirmed. “I’m sure he provides quality services for his clients and then he goes on in the same dedication to say, in a nutshell to me, he is a representation of the same demon because just like this demon he mixes lies with the truth about me. He cheated on his wife.”


    I wanted Mac to point out that the intention was to separate Jackson the businessman from Jackson the shitty husband, but Mac never stopped him.


    “And so, in one sense he says that I’m not a bad business person but then he goes on to say I’m a terrible human being and has lied about the things contained in this dedication.” Jackson continued, his voice rising. “So, yes…you’re correct that he says that he doesn’t see that I’m a bad person and then goes on to tell me in the same dedication what a terrible person I am. So, you could misconstrue that or you could ask me any question you want, but I think this dedication is a representation of what’s being said.”


    “And I’m just…so I understand your response to my inquiry.” Mac tried to clarify, shaking his head in disbelief. “Your response is that when someone writes, “I can find appreciation in his work ethic and drive to run a successful business” that that is a manipulative way of identifying you?”


    “That’s not what I said at all.” Shot Jackson, his eyes nearly bursting from his head. “I said that there is a clear definition to make sure that Mr. Lastman and anybody that reads this, makes sure that correct Jackson Caiaphas is being represented. There is a deliberate effort here and there is a deliberate intent in this dedication.”


    The only deliberate effort on my part was to clarify the stark difference between Jackson the businessman and Jackson the horrible husband—a courtesy never extended to me when he whined to my boss and colluded with Don Holbert about me. I also didn’t want another Jackson Caiaphas living in another part of the world to be confused with this absolute piece of shit human being. He knows exactly what he did to be where we were today—his lies consistent enough to know he essentially lied throughout his entire testimony. I also didn’t want him to lose clients because his kids were dependent upon it. The more he lied though, the more I regretted the decision to let Mac talking me out of a deposition.


    “You know what, your Honor. I think the record is going to speak for itself. I have complete confidence in your ability to interpret.” Mac deferred, addressing Judge Moone. “That was really the point—the interpretation of others, is the point I’m trying to convey. I don’t really have any other questions about that.”


    “Anything else of this witness?” asked Judge Moone.


    “Yes, your Honor.” answered Claudine, approaching the witness stand yet again.


    “Mr. Caiaphas, you deal with multi-million dollar businesses, correct?”


    “Yes, ma’am.” Jackson replied, straightening his posture.


    “Do you think your customers would appreciate it if they thought you were a sociopath? A psychopath? A narcissist? A wife abuser? A cheater?”


    “It would have detrimental effects to my business.” he exclaimed, red faced. “People that deal with me know I have integrity. They know I have ethics. And they believe in what I do. So, anything like this absolutely would have detrimental effects.”


    If they already knew he had integrity and ethics, then why would he be so worried about these opinions having detrimental effects to his business? Because he knew as well as I did, what I wrote was nothing less than the absolute truth about him. His response to this question essentially admitted that my dedication was not at all slanderous. Did he not think sending letters to my clients would not have a detrimental effect on my business? Or did he just not care? Yet, here he was whining about someone who had the decency to at least try to separate Jackson the business man from Jackson the philandering husband. Because one thing was certain, he never extended me the same courtesy—his hypocrisy shining like the sun through the windows that blinded me the day of his ambush—another lie he told.


    “No further questions.” Claudine said before walking away.


    In hindsight, I think his clients would appreciate the truth. And how did they know he had ethics and integrity when his wife shared with me in intimate details these very things he lacked? Did he think I actually dated Anya for two years because he was a man of integrity and ethics? If he was an honorable man, who didn’t ruin another man’s marriage, who never flirted with waitresses in front of his own wife and who didn’t cheat on his pregnant wife causing her enough distress to experience a premature birth, who didn’t have a wife who felt the need to share all of this to with me and who didn’t allow and encourage me to deeply in love with her because of him, we’d never be here today. The great thing about this was how it brought to life Jackson’s hypocritical nature. How he had no problem defaming me to people in power who attempted to harm my life, yet here he was lying about being defamed and whining when the truth was being told about him. Didn’t he know the truth is where true power resides? That it never lies within lies? Now, he got to personally experience how his letter made me feel when he sent it to my clients. The irony of it all? He actually cheated on his wife and my only crime was trusting in all his wife told me about him. What Jackson claimed was defamation was the truth and it’s the only reason I pushed back—knowing I held it. The sad part was that Jackson had the power to quiet me by utilizing the truth instead of lies, but chose the path of most resistance.


    As Mac accepted the court’s offer to recross and reexamine Jackson Caiaphas, I could only hope he jumped all over his hypocrisy. There was a reason why these dedications came into existence.


    “But you haven’t experienced any adverse business consequences, correct?” asked Mac.


    “Is that a question or a statement.” lobbed Jackson, visibly upset by Mac’s query


    Mac nodded. “That’s a question.”


    “To my knowledge, no one has asked me about my character to date. However, we compete against many commercial properties for many many large corporate tenants.” he boasted. “There could be many reasons that I win or lose tenants. Things that people say, things that people read may have an impact on decisions they make.”


    And the same went with my name as well, Jackson. I thought regarding the letter he sent to my clients. The only difference being he slandered me while I utilized the truth.


    “But you’re not aware of any?” prodded Mac, attempting to expose his unfounded fears.


    “To my knowledge, I’m not.”


    “I have nothing further.” Mac spoke before walking back to sit down next to me.


    “Anything further on Mr. Caiaphas, Counsel?” inquired Judge Moone yet again to Claudine Courtney.


    “Briefly.” answered Claudine now approaching the witness stand yet again. “Mr. Caiaphas, when you Googled your name, this dedication came up, correct?”


    “That’s correct.”


    “I’ll object, your Honor.” Mac shot back at Claudine trying to sneak in a question to confuse Judge Moone. “As too vague in time.”


    “I’m going to overrule the objection but ask Counsel to give the court some time frame as to when he Googled.” ruled Judge Moone.


    “I actually have it in my file.” indicated Claudine. “Since November Two-Thousand Seventeen when you Googled your name, the dedication appeared?”


    “That’s correct.”


    “Nothing further.” concluded Claudine.


    I wanted Mac to object about to the date as we informed Judge Moone the dedications were removed—that he couldn’t have been viewing them currently because they were no longer there. His response about not being a computer expert indicated to the court he was unsure what he was actually viewing or being alerted to by Google Alert.


    “Nothing else, Counsel?” asked Judge Moone of Mac.


    “Yes, your Honor.” acknowledged Mac, jumping out of his seat to approach the witness stand. “You Googled your name in November Two-Thousand seventeen. Is that correct?”


    “Yes.”


    “But not since then?”


    “I have not Googled my name since then.” Jackson admitted, in essence killing Claudine’s attempt to confuse Judge Moone about the dedications still being viewable by anyone.


    “I have nothing further your Honor.” Mac announced before sitting down next to me again.


    “All right. Let’s go ahead and take a short recess I’ll have Mr. Caiaphas take a seat along with his wife as directed by the bailiff.” declared Judge Moone. “Mr. Lastman follow the directions of the bailiff. I will recall this case in about fifteen minutes. I have to work on something for another family to get them out of here this morning.”


    The bailiff first escorted Jackson and Anya out of the courtroom before directing us outside as well. We then took a seat at a bench about fifty yards away from its doors.


    “How do you feel?” Mac asked.


    “I don’t know. Okay I guess.” I told him. “How do you see this going?”


    “It can go either way.”


    “Jackson’s testimony was completely dishonest.” I explained, attempting to keep my disgust from bursting through about Mac’s new view on the trial’s outcome. “I think you need to bring me back up on the stand so we can rebut them—the same way Claudine tried to rebut the things I wrote in the dedication. We have to make the judge see the ridiculousness of their strategy by making her sit through the same line of questioning.”


    Mac removed his glasses and began rubbing his eyes. “I’m considering it.”


    “I think it has to happen at this point.”


    Mac put his glasses back on then turned to me. “How do you think you can handle it?”


    “I can handle it. Mac. I’m ready.” I told him, confidently. “We just can’t let them get away with this garbage again. This is exactly what happened the first time around. They sat there and lied about me without being questioned one time by the judge—with no fear of being caught of committing perjury.”


    Mac nodded. “You have to remain calm if I bring you up there, Landyn.”


    “Just don’t be afraid that they might reopen the online posts from years ago.” I assured him. “He colluded with Donald Holbert and it’s important for the Judge to know about his relationship with that office. The dedications weren’t written from out of thin air.”


    “Do you know who wrote those online posts?”


    “It was probably a friend of mine who knew of the situation—he didn’t like Anya much.” I lied.


    Mac nodded again, not knowing what to say.


    “We can’t let him off the hook about his relationship with the City Prosecutor of Long Beach.” I reiterated. “You have to hammer me on that—I know it’ll rattle him. He definitely used people in power against me and his greatest fear is them all being exposed. And another thing, we have to push back on are these allegations that “Mr. Lastman violated the restraining order and was seen driving in the neighborhood.” I simply did not. We cannot allow his testimony of defamation to stand.”


    As Mac nodded, the bailiff summoned us back into the courtroom.


    “Can we call Jackson back up to the stand if we need to?” I asked, as we both stood.


    “If we need to clarify facts, but the judge will have to allow us to.”


    I nodded. “Okay. Can you inform the Judge we would like to reserve some questions for Mr. Caiaphas in case we need to clarify some facts? So, we can get her permission?”


    “I’ll ask.”


    “Thank you.”


    “Do you have any other questions for him?”


    I nodded, “We might after his wife’s testimony.”


    “Hey, what do you think of Claudine Courtney” he asked.


    “She’s a liar too.” I told him.


    “I meant, she’s pretty hot, don’t you think?”


    “I mean she’s not bad.” I replied, thrown off my Mac’s observation. “She’s not my type to be honest.”


    “I have a thing for blondes.” He informed me, before reentering the courtroom.


    Unsure of what to make of Mac’s attraction to Claudine Courtney, who left me questioning her professionalism and ethics when she chose to protect the lies of her client, we took our seats behind our respective tables. When Mac revealed the trial in his eyes was a toss up, the more I regretted the decision not to depose the witnesses—it would’ve prepared us for Jackson’s testimony of lies. Now, it seemed retaking the stand again would be my only hope to expose his slandering testimony of me.


    “Back on the record in the matter of Anya Caiaphas and Landyn Lastman.” Judge Moone announced before sitting. “The record will reflect counsel and parties are present. Before we call the next witness…who may that be?”


    Claudine then rose from her seat. “Anya Caiaphas, your Honor.”


    “Okay. For the record the court has pulled two files. One is N-Q-Zero-One-Three-Four-Three. This was a request–an application for a restraining order filed by Miss Caiaphas against Mr. Lastman on October Seventh Two-Thousand Nine. The matter was set for hearing October Twenty-Eighth Two-Thousand Nine. There were no appearances made on this date and the case was dismissed. Temporary orders were dissolved.”


    “Does that sound right, Mac?” I whispered. “The temporary order was never issued.”


    “I think you misinterpreted the documentation.” he told me. “Because there were no appearances, the case was dismissed.”


    I looked at him confused—I’d bet my life they notified me of the restraining order and it stated that it was dismissed before a hearing because of a lack of evidence. And the date of the order was October Seventh Two-Thousand Nine—the date we broke up. None of that made sense, but at any rate, it was entirely dismissed. I looked over at Anya but quickly looked away as she stared ahead at Judge Moone. That was a horrific day for both of us—I couldn’t blame her for filing for the order knowing her husband undoubtedly pressured her to—but our relationship was not worthy of that kind of ending. In her defense, I put her in a bad spot that day with the way I handled it all but the way she lied about our relationship to Jackson and all those around her caused the fallout to be much worse than it should have been—holding herself unaccountable for all she allowed and encouraged me to feel. After being told we weren’t “one of those things”. After hearing this I patted my suit’s pocket lightly, feeling the necklace against my heart.


    “Also, taking judicial notice of criminal case Three-L-G-Zero-One-Four-One, which is a criminal case that was filed against Mr. Lastman on July Twenty-Fifth Two-Thousand Thirteen, alleging three violations of a restraining order.” continued Judge Moone. “It would appear from the case number to the court that is the orange county case where the restraining order was issued. For the record, that is One-One-V-Zero-Zero-Two-One-Eight.”


    I nodded as she noted these things for the record, but when she referred to the criminal case all three alleged violations were dismissed, it provided another reason to be brought back to the witness stand—to state for the record there were no convictions so Claudine could be admonished by the court for portraying it as such.


    “It appears the disposition of the criminal case is that Mr. Lastman was allowed to do deferred entry of judgment. Meaning, he entered a plea and then had to perform certain conditions over a year period—eighty hours of community service, fifty-two weeks domestic violence counseling program and make some payments.” Judge Moone further clarified. “Obey all laws. No new arrests and then he could earn his dismissal. In fact, what he did was earn a dismissal in this case at the end of the one year period.”


    When she said “no new arrests” it bothered me. We needed to definitely clarify to the court that I’ve never been arrested because it appeared the court believed that happened. I never entered a guilty plea, refusing to accept the diversion deal on those terms. I looked over at Mac, whose focus was on Judge Moone’s judicial review.


    “All right. Next witness.” Instructed Judge Moone.


    “Your Honor.” Interceded Claudine Courtney. “Since we’re dealing with the restraining order I have a copy—a stamped copy of the Orange County restraining order from Two-Thousand Eleven.”


    “So, you want to mark that as Petitioner’s…?”


    “Can we mark it ten? I already marked eight and nine.”


    “But you haven’t offered eight and nine up?”


    “I’ll change my numbers then and mark this as eight.” Claudine corrected.


    “Okay. Mr. Simon have you seen number eight before?” Judge Moone asked, turning her attention to Mac.


    “I have, Your Honor. I don’t know how relevant it is because there was an issue in regards to the effect of that. I represented Mr. Lastman in the criminal matter that the court has taken judicial notice of.” Mac stated. “I don’t know if we should get into the legitimacy of that order or not. Whatever.”


    Mac challenging the legitimacy of the first restraining order surprised me. When compared to restraining orders of the same magnitude, in which there were plenty of examples to draw from to prove it was unnecessarily severe and obtained on false grounds, notably kidnapping and stalking allegations without evidence, it should be easy to prove it was illegally obtained. All I had to do was read my dedication to Teri Shamm to know the restraining order reserved for physical violent crimes was illegitimate—likely the reason why Claudine Courtney never offered it up as an exhibit to Judge Moone.


    “Well, I don’t know that the legitimacy of the order really has any bearing.” Judge Moone shot back. “It does appear your client at least entered a plea based on a violation and then earned a dismissal to have the plea withdrawn and the case dismissed.”


    Upon hearing Judge Moone’s reaction, bringing Jackson’s lies to the court’s attention became more urgent. If the restraining order was illegitimate, the alleged violation creating the withdrawn plea and dismissal earned through the diversion program were as well. At this point, Mac performed well in my defense and after he mentioned this, it made me feel he believed everything I told him was the truth. That I wasn’t making this up and withholding any information from him he needed to properly defend me. Because if he didn’t believe in what was done to me, he wouldn’t be vested enough to defend me.


    “So, I’ll mark this restraining order One-One-V-Zero-Zero-Two-Eight as Petitioner’s Eight.” Judge Moone said, marking the document before her. “Next witness.”


    Claudine rose from her seat. “Anya Caiaphas.”


    “Miss Caiaphas, please come up.”


    When Judge Moone announced Anya’s name, she didn’t announce it as Missus, but rather as Miss, even while knowing she was married to Jackson. In fact, the entire day, she did so. As Anya took the stand I could only hope beyond reason she would explain the meaning behind sending me the heart pendant while gently patting my suit pocket, expecting nothing less than the unexpected.