Page 113 of Steadfast
Another surprise was that I liked my lawyer immediately. I’d expected a stuffy guy in a blue blazer. But this counselor was not cut from the prepster mold. He had eyebrow piercings and Celtic tats peeking out from his rolled-up shirtsleeves. In addition to the usual diplomas, his office wall was hung with framed photographs of vintage airplanes.
Best of all, he didn’t talk to me like I was a loser.
I met him two days after the chief’s arrest. He opened with: “So, I really want to throat-punch the public defender who represented you in court.”
“Is that so?”
He nodded, his piercings glinting in the light. “I can tell this case had a real stench from the first minute. But he didn’t seem to smell it.”
“I heard he was disbarred.”
My lawyer tapped his pen on the desk. “Maybe they gave you the town clown intentionally. It’s something to consider. I’m hiring an investigator so we can look into it.”
That sounded expensive. “How can I help?”
“I want to ask you to recount the night’s events to the best of your memory.”
“My memory is the main problem.”
“I understand that. You probably had a concussion that nobody diagnosed. Luckily, your girlfriend did an excellent job finding some holes in the official story, and we’re going to do our best to exploit them. So start at the beginning.”
I did.
An hour and a half later I’d drunk two bottles of water and recounted every last thing I could remember about the night of the crash. My lawyer burned through half a legal pad taking notes, and he recorded our conversation.
“I’m going to get started right away on your petition,” he said. “I want to manage your expectations…”
“I know,” I said quickly. “We might get turned down.”
He grinned. “We might. But usually I’m starting from scratch. This time I have Internal Affairs and a prosecutor already looking into the matter. I’ve never had a case start off like this before. It makes me feel optimistic.”
Optimistic. Now there was a word I never used. “How am I going to pay for this?”
“You’re not. I’ll handle the appeal for nothing. If we’re successful, you’ll sue the state for wrongful imprisonment, and they’ll settle. My office will earn a cut of the settlement, and that money will go back into our pro bono pool.”
“That sounds like a better deal than I’d get anywhere else. So I guess we’re done here for now?”
He looked amused. “You didn’t ask me what a guy gets paid for wrongful imprisonment.”
I shrugged. “If it comes to that, I figure you’ll let me know. I’m not in this for the money.”
“That’s a good attitude.” The lawyer stood up. “But if we’re successful, it could change your life. You could go back to school or buy a house.”
A house. I liked the sound of that. “Thank you for helping me.” I bussed my empty water bottles into his recycling bin.
“Are you kidding? This is going to be fun.” He rubbed his hands together. “When you see May Shipley, tell her she owes me a coffee date.”
“I will.”
After I left the lawyer’s office I called Sophie immediately. “How’s my girl today?”
“I’m good. Mom is on the plane to Virginia.” She’d gone to stay with her sister. “So if any hot guys wanted to come over for dinner, I’d be available.”
To her house? Now there was a first. “I just happen to know a guy who’s free for dinner.”
“Tell him to get over here, then.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
