“I SPEAK 10 LANGUAGES” — SAID THE YOUNG LATINA… THE JUDGE LAUGHS, BUT HE’S LEFT SPEECHLESS WHEN HE HEARS HER“I speak 10 languages,” said the young woman with her hands handcuffed. The judge burst into laughter. “Sure, and I’m a polyglot,” he mocked in front of the whole court. But when she opened her mouth, his laughter froze. The Superior Court room had never been so full.
Every seat occupied, people standing against the walls, journalists with their cameras turned off waiting for the exact moment to capture the news of the day. The collective murmur created a symphony of expectation that made the air conditioning of the old courthouse vibrate. Valentina Reyes walked toward the witness stand with her hands handcuffed.
Her steps echoed in the sudden silence that settled when Bailiff Raymond Cooper shouted, “Stand! The court is in session.” Everyone stood as Judge Harrison Mitchell entered through the side door carrying a messy pile of documents. He was a stocky man, with gray hair perfectly combed back and that kind of expression only years of sentencing other people’s lives can carve on a face. A mix of boredom, superiority, and occasional disdain.
“You may sit,” ordered Mitchell, dropping the documents on his desk with a loud thud that startled several in the room. Valentina remained standing between two bailiffs, with Patricia Mendoza, her public defender, to her left.
Patricia was a middle-aged woman burdened with too many cases and a very small budget. She had pronounced dark circles under her eyes and that barely perceptible tremor in her hands that reveals too much caffeine and too little sleep. “Case number 47B 2024,” announced the court secretary. The state versus Valentina Reyes, charges: electronic fraud, identity theft, and aggravated fraud. The murmur returned to the room like a wave.
Valentina felt hundreds of eyes piercing her back, judging her before any evidence was presented. She knew that feeling, she had felt it all her life. Prosecutor Thomas Bradford stood up with theatrical movements, adjusting his tie as if he were an actor at the premiere of a play. He was a thin man with sharp features, speaking with that upper-class accent that immediately establishes hierarchies in any room.
“Your Honor,” Bradford began in a resonant voice.
“We have before us a young woman who has committed one of the most elaborate frauds this court has ever seen. For months, Miss Reyes posed as a certified translator, offering services to multinational companies, educational institutions, and even government agencies.”
He paused dramatically, walking slowly in front of the jury. “She charged thousands of dollars for translations that she supposedly did in 10 different languages. 10, Your Honor. But the reality is that this young woman barely finished high school and has no certifications, no degrees, no credentials to back up her alleged linguistic abilities.”
Bradford turned to Valentina with a smile that was supposed to be compassionate but oozed condescension. “We understand that financial need can lead people to make bad decisions, but fraud is fraud, regardless of the circumstances.” Valentina clenched her fists inside the handcuffs.
Every word from the prosecutor was like a hammer striking her dignity, not because they were true, but because no one seemed interested in hearing her version. Judge Mitchell flipped through the documents with a bored expression, as if this were just another case in his never-ending list of judicial responsibilities.
He yawned without bothering to cover his mouth. “Does the defense have anything to say before we proceed?” he asked in a monotonous tone, not even lifting his eyes from the papers. Patricia Mendoza cleared her throat. Her hands trembled as she held her worn notebook. “Your Honor, my client maintains her innocence.”
“The charges presented are based on misunderstandings and lack of communication with her employers. Miss Reyes is willing to prove she possesses the skills she claims to have.” Prove it. Mitchell finally raised his eyes, his eyebrows arched with a mocking interest.
“And how exactly do you plan to prove that you speak 10 languages? Are you going to sing us a song in each one?” Some nervous laughter erupted from the audience. The judge smiled, pleased with his own humor.
“Your Honor, with all due respect,” Patricia tried to continue, but Mitchell interrupted her with a wave of his hand. “Miss Mendoza, I’ve reviewed this case. Your client is 23 years old. She grew up in a low-income neighborhood and, according to the records, she worked as a janitor before this supposed translation business.” He looked directly at Valentina. “There is no record of higher education, no international certifications, nothing that suggests this young woman could speak even three languages, let alone 10.”
It was then that Valentina lifted her head. Her eyes, which had been fixed on the floor throughout the hearing, met the judge’s. There was fire in that gaze. There were years of humiliation, being underestimated, being invisible. “Permission to speak, Your Honor,” she said in a clear, firm voice.
Mitchell looked surprised. Most defendants remained silent during preliminary hearings, letting their lawyers speak for them. But there was something in the way this young woman looked at him that caused him a mixture of irritation and curiosity. “Do you have something relevant to add to the case?” he asked skeptically.
“I speak 10 languages,” Valentina said, each word crystal clear, with no hint of doubt in her voice.
“And I can prove it right here, right now, if Your Honor allows me.” The silence that followed was so deep you could hear the buzz of the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Everyone leaned forward, as if the universe itself were holding its breath.
And then Judge Harrison Mitchell did something no one expected. He threw his head back and let out a laugh. It wasn’t a polite or contained laugh; it was a loud, almost hysterical laugh that made his corpulent figure shake in the chair. “This is incredible,” he exclaimed between laughs, wiping tears from his eyes with a handkerchief.
“The accused wants to show us that she speaks 10 languages here in my court.” Other laughter joined the judge’s. Prosecutor Bradford was smiling widely, shaking his head in disbelief. Some members of the public were laughing openly, others whispering mocking comments. “Miss Reyes,” Mitchell managed to control his laughter enough to speak, although his voice still trembled with amusement.
“I appreciate your creativity, but this is a court of law, not a talent show. We’re not going to waste the court’s time with circus demonstrations.”
“Is justice a circus?” Valentina’s voice cut through the air like a knife. The judge’s laughter froze instantly.
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, a dangerous silence filled the room. “Excuse me?” His voice dropped to a threatening tone. Valentina took a step forward, ignoring the warning tug that Patricia Mendoza gave her on the arm.
“With all due respect, Your Honor, you just laughed at me without hearing me. You judged me without allowing me to present my defense. If that’s not a circus, I don’t know what is.”
Bailiff Cooper stepped forward, ready to intervene if the situation escalated, but the judge raised a hand to stop him. Mitchell leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk.
“You’ve got guts, Miss Reyes, I’ll give you that, but guts won’t save you from the evidence against you.”
“The evidence lies,” Valentina responded. “Or rather, the people interpreting it lied because they never bothered to verify whether I could actually do what I said.”
“And why would we do that?” Bradford intervened from his seat.
“Why should the state waste resources verifying the fantastical claims of someone clearly trying to avoid the consequences of their actions?”
“Because that’s your duty.” Valentina turned toward the prosecutor, her voice gaining strength. “Your duty is to seek the truth, not assume guilt based on prejudice.”
“Order!” Mitchell slammed his gavel on the desk. “Miss Reyes, you’re treading dangerous ground.”
“I formally request that my client be allowed to prove her linguistic abilities,” Patricia quickly intervened, her voice trembling but determined. “If she can prove she speaks the languages she claims, it will fundamentally change the nature of this case.”
Mitchell looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance. “Miss Mendoza, are you really suggesting we turn this court into a language exam?”
“I’m suggesting we give my client the opportunity to defend herself properly,” Patricia replied, finding a reserve of courage she didn’t know she had. “Isn’t that what justice represents?”
The judge leaned back in his chair, which creaked under his weight. He stared at Valentina for a long moment, his eyes evaluating her like a puzzle he couldn’t solve.
There was something about this young woman that unsettled him. It wasn’t just her audacity; it was the absolute certainty in her eyes.
“Fine,” he said finally, to everyone’s surprise. “I’ll give her the opportunity to make a fool of herself publicly, but when she fails — and she will fail — I’m adding charges of contempt and obstruction of justice to her already considerable legal problems.”
He turned to his secretary. “Contact the State University’s language department. I need them to send 10 professors, one specialist in each of the languages Miss Reyes claims to speak.”
Valentina felt an electric shock course through her body. She was finally getting her chance. Finally, someone would listen to her.
“Miss Reyes,” Mitchell looked at her with that mocking smile he had perfected over decades. “I hope you know what you’re doing, because when this is over, I’m not only going to declare you guilty of fraud, but everyone will know exactly what kind of liar you are.”
“I’m not a liar,” Valentina answered, her voice calm but firm.
“And when this is over, you’re going to have to apologize.”
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