#gold coast drink driving lawyers

[drinkdriverlawyer]

Hire a Top Lawyer in Queensland for Legal Expertise You Need

Looking for expert legal representation in Queensland? Look no further than Drink Driver Lawyer. Our team of top lawyers in Queensland is dedicated to providing you with the legal expertise you need to handle your case. Trust us to fight for your rights and get the best possible outcome. Contact us today to hire a top lawyer in Queensland.

[goldcoastduilawyers]

Do I Need a Traffic Lawyer to Defend My Speeding Ticket Case?

Fighting a traffic ticket isn't a cakewalk. Gold Coast Traffic Lawyers can help you in getting through the process easily. This article highlights the benefits of hiring a traffic lawyer.

Hiring a traffic lawyer makes a major difference in defending your speeding ticket case. When faced with a speeding ticket, hiring a traffic lawyer can prove invaluable in contesting the charges. With their expertise and knowledge of the legal system, Gold Coast Traffic Lawyers can negotiate on your behalf, gather evidence, and potentially reduce penalties. Additionally, they understand your rights and can offer sound legal advice tailored to your case. This article will explore the benefits of hiring a traffic lawyer to defend a speeding ticket.

Skilled Negotiation for Favorable Outcomes: Negotiations and plea bargaining can make a significant difference when facing a speeding ticket. Seasoned Gold Coast Traffic Lawyers can skillfully negotiate with prosecutors, potentially reducing a moving violation to a non-moving violation, helping you avoid points on your license. While attempting to negotiate on your own is possible, the expertise of a traffic lawyer generally yields better results. Their knowledge of the legal system and negotiation tactics greatly increases your chances of achieving a favorable outcome.

Gathering Strong Evidence to Strengthen Your Case: Contesting a speeding ticket requires solid evidence. Relying solely on your memory or experience may not be sufficient when challenged by a police officer's testimony. Gold Coast Traffic Lawyers meticulously gather substantial evidence to support your case. They can access traffic footage, interview witnesses, and identify critical details bolstering your defense. Given the complexity and required connections, collecting such evidence entirely on your own would be challenging. A traffic lawyer's expertise is invaluable in this process.

Defending Innocence and Reducing Penalties: In jurisdictions like Florida, speeding tickets exceeding 30 mph above the limit necessitate a mandatory court hearing and carry significant penalties. By enlisting the services of a traffic lawyer, you increase the likelihood of having the charges dropped or the penalties reduced. Gold Coast Traffic Lawyers possess the negotiation skills to advocate on your behalf, even if you are not required to appear in court. With their expertise, contesting the ticket becomes worthwhile, providing a chance for a more favorable outcome.

Expert Knowledge of Your Rights: Understanding your rights and privileges concerning traffic law can be challenging for the average citizen. However, a traffic lawyer possesses comprehensive knowledge in this domain. Having a legal professional who understands the intricacies of the law significantly improves your odds of getting your ticket dismissed or reduced. Gold Coast Traffic Lawyers can adeptly represent you before the judge, skillfully arguing on your behalf within the legal framework.

Invaluable Legal Advice Tailored to Your Case: Beyond representing you in court, a traffic lawyer offers valuable legal advice regarding your case. They can guide you on accepting a plea bargain that reduces your penalty, even if it entails admitting guilt. Gold Coast Traffic Lawyers understanding of the best tactics based on the violation, assigned judge, and your record ensures that your highest interests are considered. Their expertise allows for informed decisions and a strategic approach tailored to your circumstances.

Skilled Negotiation, Even in Challenging Cases: Even when a police officer carefully issues a ticket without errors, a traffic lawyer can still negotiate on your behalf in court to reduce the penalty. Gold Coast Traffic Lawyers holds expertise in demanding concessions based on the driving history of an individual. If not driving history they may find other reasons for reduction of traffic ticket penalty. This level of negotiation expertise is often beyond the capabilities of an individual facing a speeding ticket alone.

Maximizing Your Advantage with a Traffic Lawyer: Gold Coast Traffic Lawyers have good professional relationships with judges, which could inadvertently work to your advantage. Dealing with a speeding ticket requires the expertise and assistance of a traffic lawyer. Opting for their services enhances the likelihood of achieving a positive resolution. Expertise in negotiation, evidence gathering, and legal navigation will significantly improve your chances of obtaining a favorable outcome. By entrusting a lawyer to represent you, you safeguard your rights, potentially mitigate penalties, and gain access to invaluable legal advice.

[gotocourt]

Drink Driver Programs in QLD

There are two main programs in Queensland; the Queensland Traffic Offenders Program, and the Under the Limit program. The first is a court diversion program, and the latter will form part of a probationary order. QTOP is an educational program, and is currently being delivered on the Gold Coast, and in Brisbane. The program is an educational court diversion program if you plead guilty to a traffic offence. You can commence the program as soon as you are charged, or obtain an adjournment from the court at your first appearance. To do so, you will have to enter a plea of guilty, and have the sentencing adjourned until after the course is completed. The course takes 5 weeks, and is held one evening per week. The Under the Limit program is designed as a rehabilitation program and you are referred to participate by the Court. The program is conducted at local TAFE colleges throughout Queensland for one night per week for an 11 week period.

[aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide]

Evocations: XIV (c)

Olivia wasn't about to let the hospital call Alex's parents before she did, so she lied, told the doctor that she would have to retrieve their contact information. Still numb, she found an indoor courtyard that was walled almost completely with glass. It was cool inside, and she could hear the faint trickle of a fountain.

With shaking fingers, she dialled Darcie's number. The older woman, who still had a protective detail of her own, picked up after a single ring.

"Olivia? What is it?"

The sting of pain in her throat, and her eyes was enough to make the stone-tiled floor swim beneath her. She swallowed, then choked only, "Darcie . . ."

But Alexander's mother already knew. The sound of Olivia's voice, the hour of the phone call. "Alexander!" she shrieked in desperation for her husband.

Olivia told them weakly to be on the next flight to the city. After that, Darcie began to scream.

The faintest streaks of dawn light were bleeding into the sky by the time Elliot convinced Liv to let him drive her home. He swept her place, spoke with the detail set up in the hall, then offered to stay with her a while longer if she wanted. She sent him away, wanting only silence.

After locking the door behind him, Liv turned to the apartment, which suddenly seemed ridiculously large for one person, and empty of everything that had made it comforting. In her hands was the jacket that Alex had been holding over her shoulder when . . . when it happened.

Her eyes welled with fresh tears as she stroked the material between her fingers, trying to find some reality in what was happening. Walking slowly, as if her feet pushing air was enough to hold her down, Liv coasted to the kitchen, managed to pour herself a glass of wine, and slid onto a stool at the island, unclipping her holster to lay her gun alongside the wine bottle.

As she sipped her wine, the jacket lay across her thighs, and Olivia smoothed her hands over and over it. After a few more sips, she picked the coat up and brought it to her face, burying her face. A body-shaking sob rose from her chest and poured out of her as Liv breathed deep of Alexandra's soothing scent.

The sobs continued their painful, air-stealing march from her, as she let grief rip her heart in two, until she was gasping to get her lungs to refill, her cries coming out soundlessly. Olivia hugged the jacket against her body, begging to be allowed to crawl into the grave with Alexandra.

This was when she felt something in one of the pockets. It startled her enough to cause her sobbing to relent suddenly, stuttering to a pause as she sniffed hard, looking down dumbly as if she couldn't remember how pockets worked. Long minutes crawled by, until finally Liv worked her hand inside, closing around the item and pulling it out.

When she registered what it was, sitting there in her palm, small and square and much too real - unlike the rest of the night - her heart began to pound.

No, she thought. No, please. Though she didn't know who she was pleading with.

Olivia's breathing was shallow as she opened the velvet box, to reveal the magnificent rose gold ring inside. A noise that defied description left her then, and she placed the open box on the kitchen island as though what had just been revealed was from the climax of a horror film - an eyeball perhaps, or an ear cut from a story's protagonist.

Before her on the counter from left to right, there sat the bottle of red wine, the open ring box, the half-glass of wine, and her gun snug in its holster. Liv sat, unblinking, her brown eyes fixed on the ring.

Suddenly her hand was on her gun, fingertips pressed hard into the cold, familiar steel. Could a heart pound and time slow simultaneously? Olivia's shock-addled mind was nowhere and everywhere at once. Was she trying to ground herself? Shoot herself? If asked, she couldn't have said for sure.

Then she was plucking the ring from the box, and she pushed it slowly onto her finger, admiring its understated elegance. She thought about the dinner Alex had planned, about the way the blonde had looked at her the other night while she had been trying out the new dress.

Her eyes filled up again, and she stood up abruptly, Alex's jacket pooling to the kitchen floor in a whisper. Liv tried to imagine Alexandra on one knee, tried to imagine her eyes when she said yes. The hollow that grief had carved out inside of her was like a crack in a house, letting in cold wind.

The hand wearing the ring pulled her gun from its holster, her palms cold sweating onto the steel, the other onto the marble counter. All of a sudden, the ticking of the kitchen clock was cacophonous.

Then Olivia blinked and her lungs filled again, as though someone had released a pull-string at her back. She released her clutch on her gun, then removed the ring from her finger, placing it back in the box and closing it up matter-of-factly. As fresh tears began to fall, she picked up the wine glass, still half full, and threw it with a grunting shriek across the room. It hit the backsplash to the left of the sink, shattering into shards of glinting glass and streaking red everywhere. Sky High jumped up from where she had been dozing at Olivia's feet and yelped.

Just like Alex's blood, she thought.

Picking up the bottle, she bent to retrieve Alexandra's jacket, then turned to move into the living room. In just a few hours, Darcie and Alexander would land in New York, and they would want answers.

.

.

The fact that became startlingly clear once the elder Cabots arrived, was that young lawyers are much less prepared for death than young cops.

Olivia's legal Will was on file, tucked neatly away in a filing cabinet in the unseen heart of One Police Plaza. Earlier just that year, she had officially updated the paperwork to name Alexandra as her sole beneficiary in the event of her death. No such paperwork existed for Alex. The statuesque blonde had been brilliant, stubborn, and utterly defiant when it came to matters of danger or finality. The irony was lost on none of them.

Alexander made a valiant effort to convince Olivia to keep the apartment the two had shared, but she couldn't bring herself to agree to it. Once they travelled back home, she told them, she would take Sky to her old place and they were free to sell the empty place if they chose.

It was no surprise that Darcie participated little in the long list of things that needed to be done in New York. She moved like a ghost from room to room in the apartment, looking but not truly seeing. Alexander and Liv shouldered the responsibility of going through Alex's work desk, closets, bills, and other assets or responsibilities.

Enraged by the fact that Liv hadn't been allowed to see Alex before her body was taken away, he arranged for the majority of her financials to be put into Liv's name. He also agreed on splitting any sale of the apartment in half. They worked out the details of the funeral service with as much input from Darcie that they could wring from the medicated, shell-shocked woman.

On the third day, Olivia returned to work. Being with Elliot felt safe, and kept her mind on work. The mood in the bullpen, however, was no better than the apartment. They all knew the funeral was coming, and their faces were all roadmaps of grief, guilt, and anger.

It was very late when Liv let herself in to the guarded apartment that night. She'd assumed that Darcie and Al would both be asleep in the guest room. So when she rounded into the living room to find the older man sitting up in the armchair, Olivia jumped visibly and caught her breath.

"Sorry," she exhaled, "I thought you'd be asleep."

The tall man had a glass of scotch that he was holding with both hands, and only one lamp was on, throwing a circle of light over his midsection, where Sky High was curled on his lap.

"I've been having as much trouble sleeping as you have," he said quietly.

Liv had been napping fitfully, on the living room sofa, at intervals of about an hour or so, clutching Alexandra's jacket.

"Get yourself a drink, Olivia," Al said. "Sit with me."

She returned from the kitchen with a glass of wine. She sat silently across from him on the sofa and they eyed each other stoically over the rims of their beverage glasses with the weight of their pain. Olivia loved the man; she wondered if he blamed her.

"When my little girl was still a little girl," he spoke up abruptly, evenly, "she loved to tell me that she was going to do everything when she grew up. Like it was a job she could apply for: The Person Who Does Everything, instead of teacher or doctor. 'Daddy,' she would say, 'I'm going to do everything, at least once, you know!'"

Liv sipped her wine as he smiled softly. "So, she started right away. Anything she could try, Alexandra was first in line, clamoring for the opportunity. She danced ballet, took art classes, tried photography, broke and then showed horses, buddied up with chefs to learn from . . . and in school, anything she studied she aced.

"Math, Biology, Music, Physics - it didn't matter. Alex applied the same work ethic to them all equally, just because she loved learning new things. When she came home from university with her first girlfriend, I think Darcie and I wrote it off as just part of her mission to have every experience." He laughed at that, watching the light as it caught the amber glow of his scotch.

"Finally, of course, she settled on studying law. I think that surprised me the most, to be honest - that she went with something folks would have seen as obvious. But I don't think I ever thought of her as 'becoming' a lawyer. I just kept on thinking of her as Doing Everything. Her life was just the long act of trying everything on for size."

Alexander Cabot looked up and caught Olivia's exhausted, sad gaze. "Falling in love with you changed her, Olivia. Suddenly, 'everything' was somebody and not an unpinned location. She wasn't any less stubborn, or brave, of course," he chuckled, "but . . . she was satiated. Loving you was a triumph. I'm glad that she found that. It comforts me."

Olivia prayed that Al couldn't see the tears in her eyes across the shifting shadows of the room. She wanted so much to tell him about the ring box that was now buried in her underwear drawer, wanted to say, Look, look at what your daughter saw me worthy of.

But the words were tangled in her throat like knotted string, making her afraid that what came out wouldn't make sense.

When her glass was empty, she laid it on the side table and rose to her feet. As she passed the arm chair, Al took the hand that wasn't carrying his daughter's jacket. He squeezed it gently.

"This wasn't your fault, Olivia," his voice rumbled.

The funeral was in less than 36 hours.

.

.

Every motion in the office the day before the funeral felt like plodding through quicksand. The only one who even sounded right was Cragen, father to them all, trying to maintain some normalcy to keep things from sinking altogether.

"Well, isn't that nice." Cragen grimaced.

"What?" Munch asked.

"Rafael Zapata Gaviria was found dead in a holding cell awaiting a hearing. No witnesses," he announced.

"There goes Velez's extradition," Fin tagged on.

"I long for the days when the government would send in the Delta Force assassination squad," Munch shook his head.

Cragen approached Olivia and Elliot. "DEA Agent Hammond wants to see you guys tonight. There's the address." He passed along a piece of paper.

"What for?" Elliot asked him.

"Something about closin' out the case."

It was truly the middle of nowhere, and full dark when Olivia and Elliot pulled into the sandy dune lined with tangles of greenery. Crickets chirped wildly as they crossed to Hammond through the soft terrain.

"Nice location. Convenient," Elliot quipped.

"Sorry. Only way to do this."

"Do what?" Liv asked, noting the unusual amount of cars and agents.

"Wouldn't take no for an answer. Real pain in the ass, this one," Hammond griped.

The two detectives watched as a van door slid open, and a dead woman stepped into the moonlight. For one terrifying moment, Olivia thought she was dreaming, and that the fabric of the universe would threaten to yawn open and swallow her before she could hear Alex speak.

"I am so sorry about all of this," was what the blonde said. She was clearly exhausted, and a silk scarf hid the evidence of her gunshot wound.

Elliot gaped openly as tears filled his partner's eyes. "Your funeral's tomorrow," was what she managed to reply.

"And you're both expected to attend," Hammond cut in. "For the time being, Ms. Cabot's better off dead. If Velez can get to Zapata, he can get to her."

"Witness protection," Elliot guessed.

"Until Velez is extradited or otherwise dealt with."

No moment the agents could have granted them would have been enough to say all of the things that were screaming inside of Olivia like a siren gone awry. I love you - your parents are here - I found the ring - don't go again - I would've said yes - I'll die without you - thank God you're alive.

"How long?" she asked, stepping closer to Alexandra instinctually, her voice clotted with tears. Alex's eyes were also haunted, with wants, with questions, with guilt. She shrugged her shoulders sadly, not having an answer.

She wouldn't kiss her. Not there, not then. It wasn't a lack of want, but from knowing that if they touched each other, neither of them would let the other go again.

Static crackled over a radio, and a Marshall said, "We're on the move. Sorry, folks."

Another agent said, "Move them out," and Liv and Elliot watched as Alexandra stepped out of their lives again - this time, much more quietly.

When the vehicles had all followed behind, leaving just the two detectives in the cold October night, Olivia let out the sob she had been choking back. When Elliot reached out a hand, she stumbled away from the gesture, hunching over the curb and dry heaving above the grass as wave after wave of nausea knotted her stomach.

Elliot rubbed her back carefully, as though soothing one of his daughters, and waited until she was ready to stand up. When she at last met his gaze, she was wondering how she could go home to Darcie and Alexander and pretend their only child was still dead. How would she go on doing anything, when her entire life had winked out like the sudden last gasp of a dying star?

El smiled sadly, threw an arm around her shoulder, and herded her towards their sedan. For now, nobody had answers, just a trail of destruction and change left behind in the New York Autumn.

[ill-skillsgard]

Nothing But Her - Henry Deaver x Mistress

Warning: 18+ cheating/mature themes/strong language/spousal conflict

Note: It’s been about 2 months since the last installment of HxM, and I apologize for that. As you all well know, this year has been the topper on the world’s largest pile of shit, and I’ve tried to limit my time on the internet to not lose touch with my present reality. Aside from that, some writing burnout and adapting to the new norm posed some delays. But this is the angsty part I warned y’all about! It’s also a pivotal moment for Henry, so I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think! 

Read past Henry x Mistress imagines here > Masterpost

Quarantine pushed back Henry’s court hearing. While business ground to a halt, you and Henry spent the weeks alone in his penthouse. He had his work meetings via Zoom calls and enjoyed his nights next to you on the couch watching your favourite shows. Over the weeks, you got to know Henry even better, learning and appreciating his quirks and figuring out what made him tick. It was a surreal experience living under the same roof as your lover. After years of being on your own, having another presence to fill the days with conversation and entertainment was a new, exciting notion. Even though you grew bored several times a day, Henry kept you occupied that didn’t involve rolling around in the sheets. It brought you even closer—the opposite effect it seemed to have on some of your friends and their partners.

Three months of domestic bliss oozed by, and soon, the business had to resume. Meetings had to be held in person, and you started arranging his schedule to accommodate his clients and the process of his divorce.

The rescheduled court date took place in two weeks. It was the first time Henry would go in front of a judge and explain the reasoning behind his failed marriage and why he should be granted an even split of the assets. Mary’s lawyers had already outlined her demands, but all Henry wanted was to sign the paper that freed him from her, no matter what she wished to gain from the proceeding. If she wanted the house and the more expensive car, and to sell their Summer cottage and take half the money, he was more than happy to oblige. He had all he needed when he was at home with you.

Henry was on a smooth road toward his goals until a letter arrived in the mail from his soon-to-be ex-wife’s lawyer. Henry opened the envelope and scanned the first few lines, skipping vital information before shaking his head and refocusing his attention. As Henry read, his stomach dropped. The hand holding the page shook before he balled up the paper and threw it on the floor. Anger gurgled in his chest as he took useless deep breaths.

“Fuck!” He shouted, alerting you from across the condo.

You found him in the kitchen, pacing and tugging at fistfuls of his hair. 

“Henry, what’s the matter?” You asked.

“What’s the matter? The matter is: Mary just scrapped our settlement! She wants it all. Everything! She wants the condo, my car... The summer house.”

“What are you talking about?” You asked, scoffing. “I thought she agreed to an even split?”

“Says right here, the settlement is up for renegotiation because there are new allegations of infidelity.”

“Infidelity? You mean?—Oh, no. Henry. What does that mean?”

He picked up the paper and smoothed out the creases, slapping it down on the kitchen island for you to read. “It means she’s coming after me because I’m with you. This will maim us. If she has proof... Oh, God. I don’t even want to think of the sneaky shit she’s probably done.”

“There’s no proof! We started seeing each other after you separated.”

“But, we hooked up before then.”

You shook your head. “She can’t prove that.”

Henry went white as the paper glaring up at you from the countertop. “And what if she can? What then?”

“You have job security, Henry.”

“I have a bad feeling,” he mumbled to himself. “A very, very bad feeling something’s up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have to talk to her... Figure out why she’s doing this after we agreed to be civil.”

Your throat constricted as a grave veil fell over Henry’s face. 

“Can you call her?” You asked.

“I could, but I think this would be better suited to a face-to-face conversation. Mary can’t hide anything if I’m looking her straight in the eye.”

“Well, if that’s what you think. But what if she refuses to talk to you?”

Henry threw his hands wide, shrugging. “Honestly, babe, I don’t know what’s going on in her head. She’s... She’s fucked!”

You rose your eyebrows, his cursing a testament to genuine anger. Henry rubbed his jaw, shifting it to one side until it cracked. He couldn’t keep still, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to calm down until he got the newest issue out of the way.

“You should go talk to her. Today. Don’t put it off. I don’t like it when you get in these moods.”

“Neither do I, sweetie. But I can’t just drive over there and demand she explain herself.”

“Why not? It’s still your house. You can do whatever you want.”

He weighed his options, considering your input and gave another long, strained sigh. “You really think I should?”

“Yes! Go to her now before this goes too far to fix. She can’t pull this shit and expect you to roll over and get screwed. You worked hard for what you have, and you deserve half. She’s the one who initiated the separation by treating you like dirt. Now she wants to drain you all of a sudden? After months of negotiations, she just scraps it all? If I were you, I’d go in there guns blazing.”

Henry thought it over, dreading the thought of facing Mary again.

“You’re right,” he bit his lip. “God! You’re right, babe. I have to go over there.”

“I’ll be right here when you get home, handsome. You just let me know if you need a drink ready and waiting for you.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you so much. Gosh, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you too, Henry. Now go on.”  

~*~

The street, although familiar to Henry, reminded him of how much life had changed. He drove by the houses he used to see on his morning jogs—structures that all fit a similar style around the block and lent the neighbourhood a comforting intimacy. He remembered the first time he and Mary turned down the avenue; newlywed and eager to get their life started in a quiet alcove of town, on a suburban strip. The houses had all seemed so large and intimidating at the time, but he had struck gold in his career, and nothing was too fancy for them.

The Lexus was in the driveway. That meant Mary was home, and the impending confrontation became more real. A knot formed in his stomach at the thought of seeing her again. He knew their exchange would not be a pleasant one and prepared himself with a few calming yoga breaths—the kind his girlfriend had taught him when they worked out together during the quarantine.

“You can do this, Deaver. Just stay calm. No matter how loud she yells. No matter what she says to insult you,” he murmured after turning the engine off, sitting in the driveway until he mustered the courage to get out.

Henry didn’t try the keypad on the door. Instead, he rang the bell to not catch Mary off guard by walking in unannounced, despite no warning of the change of heart on her end that brought him to his former home in the first place. Henry respected her privacy, though he knew she wouldn’t consider the same for him. Flashbacks of Mary storming into his bedroom at the condo while his secret lover hid in the bathroom dried out his throat, and he swallowed as the deadbolt drew back.

Mary gasped when she looked up at him, closing the door slightly in her surprise, then squaring her stance and tossing her hair off her shoulders.

“What do you want, pig?”

“I want to talk.”

“That’s what the lawyers are for,” she began to shut the door again, but Henry splayed his hand over the wood, stopping it from closing another inch.

“Mary. I’m serious. We need to talk. Inside.”

“You’re insane if you think I’m letting you in my house.”

“My name is still on the house, and you have no orders against me coming here. Please don’t make this more difficult.”

Mary studied her husband’s face for a flicker of insecurity, but there was none. The months he spent in the company of a loving woman had revitalized his confidence, and her frigid glare no longer held him hostage. Henry came to Mary prepared for anything she might have left in her repertoire of vilification. She had already accused him of hiring prostitutes, embarrassed him in front of his employees and colleagues, belittled him in the presence of their lawyers and accosted him at the condo. Mary had nothing left with which to shock him.

“Fine,” Mary conceded, stepping out of his way. “Let’s talk, Henry.”

They sat down in the kitchen, old smells embedded in the plaster reminding Henry of different times, unhappier times. His eyes coasted over the stove they had purchased at Sears, the matching refrigerator, the countertop they selected out of catalogue as they sipped sweet tea in the living room and the dark floor laminate that had caused a minor argument. Though the memories were still so vivid, Henry knew not the man who’d fallen in love with Mary all those years ago. Looking at her now, it seemed impossible that he’d had any attraction to her at all. Not enough to justify the lavish proposal he’d given her, the hundred-thousand-dollar wedding and his commitment. Yet the house still possessed the comforting warmth Henry had fallen in love with when the realtor walked them through for the first time. 

“Would you like something to drink?” She offered.

“No, thanks,” Henry lied, throat still parched from secret nerves.

“Very well. What would you like to talk about? And if you can keep it speedy, I’d appreciate it. I have an appointment in forty-five minutes.”

Henry sighed and rolled his knuckles on the kitchen table as she took the adjacent seat. “Why did you change your mind? I thought we had this all sorted out. You get the house, the Lexus, the boat and half the money from the cottage sale. It’s enough for you to retire on, Mary. Why are you coming after the condo now? And the Beamer? You don’t even like the thing.”

Mary pursed her lips. She had thought about this conversation many times in the last few days, and how it might play out, as she expected to hear from either Henry or his lawyer at any moment. What she didn’t expect was her husband to show up at the door, appearing composed and ready to have a mature discussion. But he didn’t know the truth yet, and she suspected, once she revealed it, Henry’s calm demeanour might shift.

“Did you not read the letter? I thought it was quite clear.”

A tendon in Henry’s neck pulled as he snorted and shook his head. “Infidelity. You think I cheated on you.”

“I know you cheated, Henry.”

“I’d like you to explain how you came to that conclusion.”

Mary pushed her chair out to cross one leg over the other, hands clasping around her knee as she gave a sarcastic smile. Henry rolled his eyes at the smug display, waiting for her to get comfortable.

“Witnesses. Timelines. Footage.”

“Footage?”

“After you kicked me out of the condo, I hired a private investigator.”

“We were already separated by then. You can’t hold that over me. It will never play out in court,” Henry explained.

Mary sniffed, flashing delight in her eyes at the chance to prove Henry wrong. “See, I thought so too, but then I started digging a little deeper, asking around, and lo-and-behold, I made the connection. It’s your assistant.”

Henry went pale. Mary’s smirk spread into a full-blown smile.

“Ah, there it is. You were always a terrible liar, Henry. That’s right. I know it’s her. I have irrefutable proof now.”

“No, that’s impossible. I started seeing her after we separated. And there’s no rule against me having a relationship with her. Yes, it may be frowned upon at work, but it’s not against policy.”

“You sure you don’t want that drink, Henry?” Mary asked, getting up to get herself a bottle from the fridge.

“I want you to tell me exactly how you think you have me cornered.”

Mary sat down at the table, looked at her watch, and then sighed. “Well, after I went to the condo to get some things and I saw the state of the place, that’s when I knew you had at least had a woman over. And yes, we were separated, but nobody knew at the time. You were still keeping it hush-hush. So, as I said, I hired a PI to find out if you were seeing somebody. At first, I heard nothing from the investigator. You two were diligent. But then, you slipped up in the parking lot on your way into work one morning.”

Henry knuckled the table, scoffing at what Mary had to say, though his heart hammered a dent in his chest. “That still won’t hold up. We. Were. Separated.”

Mary’s pointed smile disappeared in an instant. Her eyebrows came together, and the delight on her face melted into cold disdain. Henry saw that expression many times, suffered under the weight of it, and it always sent a shiver down his back. 

“Oh, it will hold up,” Mary assured. “Because you made one colossal mistake.”

“Is that right? What, kissing my girlfriend because I was finally happy and in love?”

“No, you nitwit. We went to the benefit. Hundreds of our friends and colleagues saw us together. Theo and his wife sat with us all night and can confirm we were very much together. Couple that with the photos of you grabbing her ass and shoving your tongue down her throat in the lot at work, and you’re screwed. Looks like cheating to anyone but you.”

“Why the hell are you doing this to me? Did I not treat you right for our entire marriage—give you everything you ever wanted and more? I made sure you got the upper-class life and all the expensive little trinkets to go along with it. I did anything you asked of me. But still, any time I have even the smallest flame of happiness, you have to snuff it out! Why are you such a... Such a fucking bitch?”

The insult echoed through the kitchen and rattled in Mary’s head. Her eyes flared. “So you admit it then? You cheated.”

“I’d been miserable for a year and a half, Mary! After trying so hard to get you to come back to me, I was bound to give up. You despised me—you still do! And even after all this bullshit, you still won’t tell me why you treated me like a doormat for all those years.”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

Henry threw up his hands. “Of course, you don’t! You’re not accountable for any of this, are you? You’re just a poor little victim! You’re so opposed to me finding happiness that you had to resort to hiring some idiot to follow me around!”

“Even if I didn’t hire somebody, I already knew. I knew it was her, too.”

“Oh, yeah? And how’s that? Did you hire someone to follow her around as well?”

“Your grandfather’s pen.”

Henry tweaked his mouth to the side, fluttering his eyes and shaking his head. “What about it?”

“You never let anyone touch it. You kept it on you at all times. Even during our happiest years, you wouldn’t have parted with the damn thing. Not even if I asked to use it. The day I came into your office—after my suspicions were already high—I saw her using it. And then I remembered her face. I’d seen her before. She used to work at the hotel we always stayed at across the city. That’s where you met her.”

Henry dropped his face into his hands, sighing through his fingers. He stayed that way for a long moment; the jumbling thoughts in his head creating fuzzy chaos. Mary had succeeded. He could deny it, but Henry was sick of the lies. Sucking a breath through his nose, he finally looked back up at Mary, his eyes bleary from pushing his palms into them.

“I fucked her in that hotel. In my room. I picked her up from the bar after we drank a tonne, and I fucked her. I ate her pussy all night, and, God... She fucked me like I’ve never been fucked before. And when I went to that big conference in Paris after I asked for a divorce, I flew her out to see me there. I’ve never had my cock sucked that well before. And you know what else? I think... Once we sign the divorce papers and you take everything I’ve earned, I’ll ask her to marry me. We won’t have shit, but I know I’ll be a thousand times happier with nothing but her than I ever was having everything with you.” 

“You’re disgusting.”

“No, you’re the disgusting one! You had every chance in the world to make it right with me, but you drew out my pain like it got you off.”

A gaping silence pervaded the room. Henry felt beads of sweat emerge on his back, and he swallowed, regretting his refusal of the water Mary offered. Stunned by his brash admissions, she stared at the table as though what she would say next was written in the spalted wood. The pulse in his neck choked off any more confessions, though he longed to watch her blanch from across the table a little more. Only the humming of the refrigerator filled the silence.

Mary drew in a shaky breath. “Leave her.”

The two words bounced around Henry’s head for a second before he chuckled. “Never. I love her.”

“Leave her, and I’ll drop this. We can go back to fifty-fifty.”

Henry pushed his chair out swiftly, and rose to his feet, leaning over the table so far he came a foot away from Mary’s face.

“Fuck. You. I’ll see you in court.” 

[drinkdriverlawyer]

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There are many important things that need to be taken seriously when you get caught for driving under influence. There are times when you might be in need of a good DUI lawyer.

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[aschenink]

*slides into your inbox* hello there! I'm getting very out of the loop on projects! What's currently your main(s) wips? And what about the characters??

I wrote this last night with a lot of coffee in my body so I was able to give a somewhat comprehensive answer for once in my life!

My main WIP right now is a second draft of the novel Give My Love to the Ocean (it’s getting a new title soon, probably). It’s a contemporary/literary novel with elements of legal thrillers and dark romance incorporated, in which professional idiot and sometimes criminal defense lawyer León San Andres has a passionate affair with Vicente Rivera, a corporate executive for an international boat manufacturing company--only to discover that Vicente is also the heir to an international crime syndicate, the Hagonoy Cartel. From there his relationship with Vicente escalates and León becomes the cartel’s main defense lawyer in the States, where ultraviolent turf wars have broken out along the west coast. León struggles with anxiety and his own traumas, but he’s also a sassy, ambitious, self-destructive moron who likes cheap beer, tequila, quiet nights in, and literally any event that involves free food. Vicente is... painfully confident, and painfully intense. He’s got an insane amount of drive, terrible insomnia, and only drinks expensive wine. Other characters include Seven, Vicente’s childhood best friend and right-hand man (charismatic, extroverted, a romantic, a Fool); Ana, León’s best friend and fiancee [it’s... a marriage of convenience thing] (PsychD student, wine connoisseur, confident, heart of gold); Violeta, Seven’s fiancee (ex-yakuza, aloof, intelligent); and Benjie, one of León’s clients and a distributor for the Hagonoy Cartel (young, terrified, weasel-like).

I’m also working on a novella, Layers of Hell, which is a cyberpunk retelling of Hades & Persephone. In a future where the pantheon of Old Gods abandoned the world during the War, the survivors of the War live in city-towers over what was once the city of Seattle. Persephone lives in the city-tower of Demeter, working through deep simulations to research ways to develop agriculture in the destroyed world. Hades is a Venter, a rare and secretive class permitted to move between city-towers, maintaining the ventilation systems that filter out the radioactive air from Outside. Their relationship, an illicit thing on its own, gives way to even more illegal things--like figuring out that what they’ve each been told about the Outside doesn’t line up, and neither of them knows the truth.

And lastly I’m working on a contemporary fantasy project, Graycrest Memorial Park, which is a loosely connected series of short stories about Annihila, a witch and the graveyard keeper of Graycrest Memorial Park. In a reality where ghosts regularly wander back into the world of the living, Annihila has her hands full with organizing the dead and their games of tarot poker... and the oldest ghosts that suggest she isn’t fully human... and disposing of the bodies the Mafia brings her... and beating back the terrible, hungry thing that lives in the woods behind the graveyard. Annihila is independent and sometimes seems aloof, but she cares deeply. The only other major character so far is Elias, the love interest, who died when he was 19 in a military training accident [he was an Army soldier]. Elias is a soft guy--the youngest of four siblings, a bundle of anxiety, a gentle soul, an absolute weapon at tarot poker. 

@honeybeewriter since you asked the other night and i couldn’t!! put things into proper words and managed to forget my own projects which isn’t a good sign

[shadylake-blog]

I never knew this kind of misery could exist until this year. Grief is overwhelming. I can easily say this has been the worst year for my family. Every day I try and give thanks that no one else is dead, or dying (well even that is not true a couple family members not doing so well with their health but they do not have cancer or anything that awful, so I should be grateful right?) I have learned being a better person does not make your life easier. Karma does not exist. My sweet poor baby brother, only 4 years younger than me died in January to start my year off. He would be 22 right now if he would have been alive for his birthday this month. I used to love the rain, now I have mixed feelings. That day I knew something bad was going to happen. I wrote the date two times for various things and got chills each time I wrote it. I watched The Butterfly Effect, which used to be one of my favorite movies until that happened, thinking about how true it was. He passed a semi truck with a car in front of them on that rainy night in January heading west towards the coast, that day it just rained and rained and rained. It was 10PM and dark. I was on the exact same spot on the road 10 minutes before the accident, about 10 miles outside of town. He hydroplaned, rolled and managed to defy physics and come back the other direction and rolled into a telephone pole that hit the drivers side. Completely demolished the car. Passenger was unscathed. He had a pulse for 20 minutes on scene, and was never taken to a hospital at all to even attempt to revive him. Just thrown into a body bag once pulse had stopped... makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it. At midnight I realized I had 36 missed calls from my mom and step-dad. I was busy arguing with my controlling gas lighting “boyfriend” about tattoos, he was made that I got them. I was thinking someone got pulled over for driving while suspended or something. I never thought about my brother dying, not once my entire life. My mom blubbered “He is dead,” I said “What do you mean?” “He is dead your brother is dead he got in a car wreck” “No it can not be him are you sure?” “Yes I am sure” (can barely understand her both of us just completely blubbering and hysterical now) “How do you know did you see him?” “The police came and told me, his wallet was on him it was his car.” Now having never dealt with death in any way shape or form, not even a distant cousin, I did not know how to react other than scream. I had a slight hope maybe someone stole his car and wallet, because the passenger was not one of his friends I knew, it was someone I had never even heard my brother talk about. But I cried and screamed for days and days and days. The next morning I immediately went out to the crash sight which was right behind my moms house across a big field and put up a cross on the pole. It was still pouring, I had another one drying at home with his name on it. The scene was horrific. They left all of his costs and personal belongings just strung out all over the side of the road.PIECES OF SHIT. After they let him bleed out. Puddles of blood all over the ground in the mud. His car title, personal mail, the coats he had on that night (the passenger posted a photo of them before they left and ten minutes later he was dying) other things he had in his car like work clothes and nails and tools, he was a roofer. He always had those rings of nails everywhere. Just left out like hes worthless trash. The lack of respect for a dead 21 year old kid you did not even take to the hospital...Fucking disgusting. I went out and cleaned everything up. I could not even see my brother until Wednesday, 4 days later. It was a Saturday night when it happened. Towing company would not even let us look at his car until Tuesday. My step-dad, mother and I looked at the car in complete horror. It looked like it been crushed. How the passenger escaped unscathed I really have no idea the entire dashboard was caved in, windshield gone. Blood all over the drivers seat and floor where they just let him lay there and bleed out. Somehow his weed pipe (that was under the passenger seat in a toolbox he was not smoking and he does not drink) was not broken, neither was his phone which was smashed in between the drivers seat and console but it was cracked. We always told each other our passwords in case something like this happened never thinking we would actually have to use it... That day he asked probably 20 people to go all day including his girlfriend, and he could not get anyone to go until 10 o'clock at night when the passenger had said sure I will go. The last thing his girlfriend said to him was “I wish you would go kill yourself”, they had been together for 3 years. I know that when people are arguing they say things like that, I do not hold it against her but its unfortunate she has to live with that being the last thing she said to him. His steering wheel and dashboard were so crushed the keys had to be forcibly removed, I still carry the sideways key around on my key chain because this has made me completely insane, as if I did not struggle enough with depression and anxiety before this from constantly being broke trying to raise a child on my own and never having daycare. That is a story for another day. But this has really fucked me up. He was not a sibling I occasionally see on the holidays, that’s who I called when I really just needed a friend. We went camping and hiking all the time together. We never sat on our phones when we went so we hardly had any pictures together. He was always there for me as a child and an adult, even though I was such a bitch when we were younger. He was always so good to me, the best brother anyone could ever ask for. I hear these people talk about the things their brothers do them, and I am like my brother would have never done that to me... He was such a good person even when people did him wrong. He had a heart of gold and was so unique he had so much potential and was just starting to grow up. Besides my child, there is no other person in the world I loved more than him. I have two other siblings but they are 14 and 11 years younger than me. I love them but I do not share the same bond and he was my only full sibling. When I actually finally got to see him at the morgue (and I was the only family member that even went to see him the rest found it too “traumatizing” I wanted to see what the hell happened) my stomach sank. It was definitely him. My poor little brother, laying on a fucking slab. I just kissed his forehead over and over wishing I could somehow blow the life back into him... I know that can never happen. He will rot in the ground forever. It was just a slight dent on his head under his hair. His beautiful brown hair. You will never convince me he should have not tried to have been saved. I have seen people survive way worse injuries but they were taken to a hospital. They literally just let him lay there until his pulse stopped. I’m too poor to afford an attorney. Just like my grandpa that I never met, but I have been told by my entire family he was beat by a bunch of police officers and left to die in the hospital. My grandmas mom was overdosed in Tylenol at the hospital and her sister died of alcohol poisoning because the hospital would not treat her. Why are the poor just left to die? Because the poor can not afford lawyers, and they know it. I visited him almost every day for the 2 weeks in the morgue, we did not exactly have 5 grand laying around for a funeral so I had to gather some money before the services. I felt awful letting him stay in a morgue that long, but my other choice was cremation which I do not believe in. I wanted it to do it as my native american ancestors did which was bury him outside in a cave but its illegal. I have seen too many cremations where people get the wrong ashes when the DNA test them and I wanted a proper burial, and a place to visit him. We built the casket since I was not paying an additional 5 grand for a wooden box with pillows in it. My stepdad found old redwood on the farm and various other woods to build it with. My brother would have liked it, because he loved to fall trees. He did it for fun almost every time we went to the woods. “Sis, lets go to the woods so I can cut down a tree.” He called me Sis even as an adult. The handles were made out of deer antlers, his first deer that he killed. I bought him a red comforter set because that was his favorite color. I dressed him in his banana pajama pants and his work shirt, because he loved roofing, and one of his cozy flannels. I hope you're cozy brother. Lots of people showed up to the funeral. At least 100 people. My boss and coworker, my brothers coworkers, all my family, even distant family we never really speak to like my grandpas brother. People I did not know. My moms ex husband (my other siblings father) and his parents came. It was a very sad day, watching my grandparents cry as he went into the ground. Everyone took turns getting up to speak. I did as well, but it took so much courage for me to get up there in front of everyone and not bawl and bawl and bawl. I have never seen so many grown men cry in my life until that day. I tried so hard not to bawl but when he went into the ground I lost it, everyone did. We waited until he was buried and smoked a joint on his grave and planted some flowers even though it was freezing and raining and cold. I really did everything I could to make sure he had a proper burial. The celebration of life was a week later, another day we had to put fake smiles on our faces and socialize. What is amazing is how many people it united. But it comes back to The Butterfly Effect, if I would have said hey lets hangout. If I would have been on that road ten minutes later, because I was right fucking there right before it happened. If anyone else would have said they would go and he would have left earlier. Most importantly, if they would have taken him to a hospital and actually tried to do something instead of letting him lay there until his pulse stopped and then throwing him into a body bag. I will never, ever forget him and will never let his legacy die.

[parker-simmonds-solicitors]

Pool safety is always important and as we head into the warmer months on the Gold Coast, we need to be even more vigilant. Gold Coast lawyer Bruce Simmonds, who has long campaigned for better pool safety, says it’s time to revive his idea of a “designated driver” system to ensure someone stays around a pool every minute it is in use as a safety measure. In the past the Queensland Ambulance Service has voiced its alarm at the near drownings in home pools over the holiday period with paramedics saying many of the incidents are from unattended children in swimming pools. Bruce Simmonds, Litigation Director of Gold Coast law firm Parker Simmonds Solicitors and Lawyers, and a compensation law expert, says he has acted for families torn apart by child drownings and has seen at close quarters the way child drownings can tear a family apart. Although the “designated driver” concept is well-established to prevent drinking and driving, there does not seem to be any similar safety plan to ensure safety around home pools, especially during barbecues and parties. “Some foresight now could avoid a lot of heartache later. It’s too easy for people to all be having a good time and just assume “someone” will be keeping an eye on the kids in the pool. “As a parent I cannot imagine the heartache of losing your child in such a way but it’s happening all the time still, Children are in a pool and an adult leaves them alone for some inane reason. “We need to change that mindset. You can’t leave kids alone in a pool for even one minute,” he says. “A pool fence is also no guarantee of safety. Determined kids can climb over them in seconds.” He is urging summer revellers, especially those supervising barbeques or children in home swimming pools, to not mix their responsibilities with alcohol. It was too easy, especially where alcohol was involved, for people to forget responsibilities such as ensuring children in a pool were safe, or a barbecue was being safely operated. “People forget that some of the inflatable pools purchased from shopping centres are of a size that requires pool fencing around them. Adults buying a pool need to realise they are also committing to responsibilities for children’s safety,” he says. “Fines won’t bring the children back. Property owners need to have it drilled into their brains the crucial need for pool safety, not to leave pool gates open and never let children near a pool unsupervised,” Mr Simmonds says. Hosts could lessen the danger risks by ensuring there is a designated alcohol-free “safety host”, in the same manner as the designated driver system for motorists. Mr Simmonds, a strong supporter of pool safety measures, says pool safety enforcement should focus on education rather than revenue raising through fines. “Enforceable pool laws are in themselves a good thing if they save young lives. Too many children are drowning in home pools and the danger soars over the summer period. “But I’ve seen too much focus on fines and penalties rather than the education aspect- we need more focus on the glaringly obvious need to make Gold Coast pools the safest in Australia,” he says. “We’ve had campaigns against drink/ driving, Smoking and ice, but very little in the public’s face about swimming pool safety,” he adds. “Now’s the time we see much heavier use of pools so it’s a good time to push the safety message. Lives depend on it,” Mr Simmonds says.