“And very aware that cameras were running.”
He nodded.
“Does it still bother you?”
Naomi considered lying.
Then didn’t.
“Yes.”
Sometimes she still felt Holloway’s hand twist the fabric at her shoulder.
Sometimes an officer approaching the bench too quickly made her body tense before her mind caught up.
Sometimes she dreamed about the warrant.
In the dream, the signature always changed.
Her name.
Then someone else’s.
Then hundreds of names.
She told a therapist.
The therapist said trauma was not impressed by job titles.
Naomi liked that.
She kept going.
Years passed.
The warrant reforms became permanent statewide.
Every judicial authorization received a cryptographic verification number.
Police supervisors could verify validity through secure systems.
Emergency sealed warrants still existed, but audit logs could not be silently altered.
Old seals became invalid automatically.
Archived signatures could not be exported by ordinary records staff.
When a judge’s signature appeared on an arrest warrant targeting that same judge, the system flagged it instantly.
That last rule made Naomi laugh the first time she read it.
Someone had actually written it because of her.
SELF-REFERENTIAL JUDICIAL AUTHORIZATION ALERT.
Bureaucratic language for:
A judge cannot secretly sign her own arrest warrant while sitting in open court.
Naomi framed the policy memo.
Her sister saw it.
“You framed that?”
“Yes.”
“That's the least decorative thing I've ever seen.”
“It makes me happy.”
“Therapy is failing.”
Naomi laughed.
Life softened around the edges.
She became chief judge seven years later.
Not because of Holloway.
She hated profiles that implied the scandal created her career.
She had spent eighteen years earning it.
The fake warrant became one chapter.
Not her identity.
On her first day as chief judge, she walked through records administration.
New staff.
New systems.
Different supervisors.
At one desk, a young clerk struggled with an electronic signature verification.
Naomi stopped.
“Problem?”
The clerk looked terrified.
“Chief Judge.”
“Relax.”
“The verification keeps rejecting this order.”
Naomi looked.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Naomi smiled.
“Then don't force it through.”
The clerk blinked.
“Ask.”
“Verify.”
“Find out why.”
The clerk nodded.
Naomi walked away.
That was the culture she wanted.
Not fear of mistakes.
Respect for questions.
Because Holloway’s system had relied on the opposite.
People were trained not to question authority when authority arrived confidently.
Junior officers trusted senior detectives.
Clerks trusted familiar names.
Evidence technicians trusted paperwork.
Defendants assumed warrants were real.
Judges assumed documents bearing another judge’s signature had been properly processed.
Tiny assumptions stacked together.
One dishonest person exploited them.
Then another.
Then a network.
The answer was not universal distrust.
That would destroy institutions too.
The answer was verification without shame.
Check.
Ask.