The escalator was located in the middle of a huge, airy central lobby that reminded Tom of a shopping mall. Corridors spoking out from the center hall contained well-appointed courtrooms. Strategically located banks of TV monitors gave notice of cases being adjudicated that day—criminal, civil, domestic, and juvenile. A courthouse was a place to deal with conflict, and few of the people bustling through its corridors looked particularly happy. Most everybody was there because something bad happened. When he reached the C level, he passed a narrow hallway over which a sign read: “To Holding Cells.” Presumably prisoners were taken there from the DC Jail and held pending their court appearance. He followed the signs, turned right, and found the door to Courtroom, C-10. Two TV monitors outside the door listed the defendants scheduled to appear for arraignment or other pretrial proceedings. As he was about to enter, the courtroom doors opened, and a mass of humanity spilled out. From snatches of conversation, Tom concluded the judge had taken a break.
