Nichelle sat in the van passenger seat staring into the visor mirror, willing the exhaustion out of her eyes.
“Mrs. Galvonsen?” said the production assistant at the window.
“It’s Miss Allston,” she reminded him sharply.
A moment later she was in front of the District Court, just one of dozens of reporters waiting for the signal.
Benny, her producer, gave it.
She smiled into the camera. “Thanks, Andrea. I’m here at the courthouse waiting for word on what might be the most important verdict in modern history. At stake? Nothing less than the future of the world economy.“