Chapter 1
It was an unusually warm day for February. So warm I left my coat in the car when I walked up the hill to my husband and daughter’s graves. I placed the bright bouquet of Gerber daisies in front of Amelia’s headstone. The pink, yellow, and orange flowers seemed more appropriate for a child. I placed the bouquet of white roses on Jonah’s grave then sat down on the grass in front of their headstones.
First, I told them about Sofia. She and I had grown closer in the few months since she and MJ moved back into my aunt’s house. I’d made an effort to connect with Sofia this time, and it paid off. She talked to me now almost as much as she talked to my aunt and MJ. I was trying to help Sofia learn to read, which she was struggling with. I’d already met with her kindergarten teacher to express my concern, but the teacher insisted Sofia was fine and some children just learned more slowly than others. I wasn’t buying it. Getting Sofia tested for learning disabilities was next on my to do list.
Next I brought them up to speed on MJ, my aunt, and my mother. Then I turned to Jonah’s grave and told him what I intended to do this morning when I left the cemetery. I asked Jonah for his blessing, which he gave me, although it’s not as if I gave him a choice in the matter.
After I told them both I loved them, I walked back to my car. Visiting Jonah and Amelia was always hard, but over time, it had gotten a little easier. As I started the engine, I glanced into my rearview mirror and caught sight of their identical side-by-side headstones. If I had any doubts about what I planned to do today, that convinced me I was making the right decision.
I exited the cemetery and drove directly to the courthouse. My client was in the infirmary and would not be joining me in the courtroom today, a fact I was not unhappy about. The less time I had to spend with him the better. I had not felt this way about my previous clients, but my previous clients had not been arrested for selling fentanyl-laced marijuana to teenagers.
Although I’d been a practicing attorney for eight years, this was my first foray into criminal defense work. I’d spent the past couple of months preparing by reviewing my notes and outlines from my criminal law and procedure classes in law school and watching trials at the courthouse. I wanted to be ready when the perfect case presented itself. This was the case, the one we had all been waiting for. And by “we,” I meant me, Alex, and FBI Special Agent Roberto Diaz.
Did my client commit the crime he was accused of? Yes. Was I trying to get him off anyway? Yes. Was it immoral? Before my family was gunned down on a suburban street in broad daylight, what I referred to as my Before life, I would’ve acknowledged while every criminal defendant is entitled to the presumption of innocence and a competent defense, I would never have agreed to provide that defense. It would’ve been unthinkable to me. But now I lived in After, and in After I’d learned to embrace moral complexity, if not by choice, then by necessity. Helping a low-level drug dealer evade conviction was a price I was willing to pay to get justice for my family. It would be the first of many acts unimaginable Before, but in After, it was just another day at the office.
When the clerk called my case, I walked through the swinging doors separating the well of the courtroom from the public benches and took my place at the defense table. I was fully prepared to argue that my Motion to Suppress Evidence should be granted because it violated my client’s Fourth Amendment rights. But the judge had evidently read my brief beforehand because she immediately turned to the Assistant District Attorney and asked why she shouldn’t grant my motion. He tried, but the facts were not on his side and the judge ruled in my favor. With the evidence from the illegal search excluded, the ADA had nothing left. Neither of us was surprised when the judge granted my Motion to Dismiss too.
I walked out of the courtroom first and ADA Nathan Hale followed. I tried not to smile as we shook hands. No one likes an arrogant winner.
“Are you new to the area?” he asked as other lawyers brushed past us in the crowded hallway. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”
He may not have seen me, but I’d seen him. I’d sat in on one of his trials last week. Because I was just another spectator in the gallery, he hadn’t noticed me. He’d done a good job, I’d thought, which meant the defendant was found guilty.
“No,” I said, “just new to criminal defense work.”
ADA Nathan Hale smiled. He came off as friendly and sincere and not at all smarmy, good attributes for a trial attorney. “That explains it. Beginner’s luck.”
I laughed. “Or just good lawyering.”
He glanced at his watch. “I should go. You never want to be late in Judge Deary’s courtroom. He’s an ornery bastard.”
“Good to know,” I said.
Then ADA Hale pulled a small leather billfold out of his jacket pocket and handed me a business card. “If you ever want to get on the right side of justice, call me. We can always use more good lawyers on our side of the aisle.”
“Will do,” I said and slipped his card into my briefcase. If he only knew…
