Bradley Collins stood by the tall arched window at the end of the hall, talking quietly with the lead court bailiff.

Collins tapped his fountain pen on the margin of his legal pad while the bailiff nodded along.

Collins glanced up, spotted me standing twenty feet off by the water fountain, and waved the officer over.

“That’s the party named in the emergency petition,” Collins said, loud enough that his voice rang off the plaster ceiling.

The bailiff turned, crossed the hallway, and stretched one thick forearm across the width of the corridor.

“You’re barred from this courtroom, Commander.