Page 163 of Things We Left Behind
“It’s nice to get out of the city every once in a while and playDeath Racethrough northern Virginia,” she said. “Shall we get started?”
Ten minutes later, Naomi and I shared a shell-shocked glance. Fran wasn’t your run-of-the-mill attorney. She was the kind you called when you woke up next to a dead body. Lucian had hand-delivered the best of the best. And the most expensive of the expensive.
“So what you’re saying is we should be mentally prepared for a very expensive, very long fight,” I repeated.
“Like I said, things are incredibly difficult once a person isincarcerated. There’s little incentive for a court to reopen a case they already invested in and won. But we have options.”
My head was spinning.
“Okay. Let me try to summarize this,” I said, reviewing my notes. “An appeal means taking the case to the appellate level and arguing the entire thing all over again. A commutation of sentence comes from the governor and could shorten Mary Louise’s sentence, possibly to time served. But the Virginia judicial system is so confident in itself this is a slippery slope. Which also means a full pardon—also from the governor—is an even trickier quest. To make matters worse, the state abolished discretionary parole in 1995, which means all prisoners are required to serve at least eighty-five percent of their sentence.”
“This doesn’t sound…hopeful,” Naomi said.
“It’s a process that could take years,” Fran explained.
Years meant expensive. Years meant Mary Louise wouldn’t get to see Allen graduate law school.
“No offense, Fran, but I was feeling a lot more optimistic about this before I met you,” I confessed.
Fran’s grin was lightning quick. “It’s my job to bring the doom and gloom to make sure you understand worst-case scenarios, which in this case means investing several boatloads of time, money, and energy. But…”
I perked up.
“I think we have a good shot at winning this,” she continued.
“You’re a roller coaster, Fran,” I told her.
“I get that a lot. Here’s what we do have going for us. The sentence is wildly disproportionate to similar charges in the state, which is reason enough to appeal. Given the fact that she’s been through several public defenders, we can also argue that Ms. Upshaw did not receive proper representation.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Naomi said.
“We also have you,” Fran said, looking at me.
I pointed at myself. “Me?”
“We need interest in the case, in Mary Louise. The more attention we can bring to this, the better. You’ve heard ofconvictions being overturned thanks to true crime podcasts and their rabid followings?”
“Sure, but I don’t have a podcast.”
“No, but you have a face and a story. We’re sitting here today because your father passed away and you wanted to continue his legacy of championing the underdog. You, your dad, his connection to Mary Louise through her son, it’s a story, and stories make people care.”
“I get that. Believe me, I do,” I said, sweeping my arm toward the window to indicate the book stacks. “But how am I going to help on that front?”
“You’re the face,” Fran answered. “We want people to know who Mary Louise is, why we’re working to get her out, what they can do to help. And you’re the one who is going to tell them.”
“Uh, why can’t you be the one to tell them?” I asked uneasily.
“Because nobody likes lawyers. You’re a small-town librarian who believes in social justice. You’re smart, you’re pretty, and you’re nonthreatening.”
Naomi choked on her second cappuccino. “She’s a little threatening.”
“That works too,” Fran said.
“Okay. So what do I have to do?” I asked.
Fran interlaced her fingers. “We’ll start small. I’ll set up an interview for you with some local media. I can put you in touch with some PR folks, give you some talking points. Once that article comes out and we get some interest drummed up, I’ll see about an in-camera review with the sentencing judge.”
“What’s an in-camera review?” Naomi asked.
