Chapter 41 (Jackson)
I walk into the recreation room and find a seat. I have no idea what's going on, but Ricardo insisted I come here.
Since there's nothing better to do, I decide to start playing cards with another inmate.
“Hit or Stay?”
I eye my cards. “Hit.”
Dammit. I lost. Story of my life.
“Yo, man. That dude on T.V looks just like you,” some guy calls out.
I pick the cards up and begin to shuffle them.
“Yo, man,” the guy shouts.
My card-mate tilts his head. “I think he's talking to you.” I turn my head but get distracted by my image on the screen.
Then I hear the words that I'll never forget. “My name is Jackson Reid. There are two things you need to know about me. The first—is that I'm in love with Alyssa Tanner. The second—is that I'm a murderer.”
“That is me,” I tell the guy.
Me and my entire confession. On the fucking news.
What was Alyssa thinking? I didn't even realize she still had that.
“A new video has gone viral,” the newscaster says after my video ends. “It's sweeping across the nation and has garnered the attention of all social media sites.”
My chest tightens. I don't know if this is a good thing or bad.
Every inmate in the room and a few of the guards start watching the television with earnest.
The newscaster's face becomes serious. “We at WKWNY decided to take it to the streets of N.Y with our news correspondent Anne Walley to find out what your opinion is regarding Jackson Reid's leaked confessional tape. Do you think he should stay in prison, America?”
“Shit, man,” the inmate across from me says. “If that was my baby sis. You best believe I would have done the same damn thing.”
There are a few nods of agreement around the room, but I don't get my hopes up. These are my fellow inmates, after all.
Anne Walley holds the microphone up to a woman with short blonde hair carrying her puppy in one of those big designer purses. She looks nice, maybe this won't be so bad.
“Jackson Reid should spend the rest of his life in a prison cell. What is wrong with you people! He's a killer. He shouldn't be allowed to roam free. You don't take the law into your own hands. You do the crime, you do the time,” she bellows, before she pets her puppy.
I close my eyes. This is worse than torture. At least, I'll be well prepared for court. I told Ricardo not to waste his money.
I open my eyes as Anne Walley approaches another person and asks their opinion. A male this time. He's about 17 or 18 and he's wearing a baseball cap backwards on his head. “I don't know,” he says appearing to be lost in thought. “I mean, I don't really like my little sister all that much.” He looks down. “But, if someone ever hurt her or worse, killed her. I can't say that I wouldn't do the same, you know? I guess I can understand where he's coming from.”
Anne approaches another bystander. It's another woman. She's in her late 30s and she's holding a crying toddler in her arms. “I'm a Jackson Reid supporter. We need more men like him in the world.” She looks down at her child. “I don't want my little girl to live in a world where domestic abusers can get away with hurting or killing others. I want her to live in a world where there's men like Jackson Reid who aren't afraid stand up and get revenge for women like his sister.”
Anne approaches another woman. She's in her mid-20's and has a few shopping bags in her hand. “Well, I have a few ex-boyfriends that I'd like Jackson Reid to take care of.”
Her face turns sad. “But in all seriousness. Have you seen that video? Ignore the fact that he's good looking and actually listen to the pain he's in, people. The guy lost his sister. She was killed by his best friend. Beaten to death. Can you really blame the guy, Anne? I don't think he should be serving any time. It's obvious that he's already suffered enough.”
Anne approaches another person. A man in his late 40's this time. He has a beard and a few tattoos. “I don't have a sister,” he pauses. “But I do have a daughter. And if any—” There's a beep. And another beep. “Put his—” another beep. “Hands on her or killed her, you'd better believe I'd find his—” another beep. “and kill him with my bare hands!” he screams into the camera before he briskly walks away.
The recreation room erupts in applause. But then Anne approaches another woman.
Oh, god. It's Momma.
“Jackson Reid is my son,” she says in her Southern twang.
Anne Walley looks skeptical. “I'm sorry ma'am, did you say your son?” Momma gives her a look and grabs the mic. “That's right. He's my boy. And this—” The camera moves and I see Tyrone, Shelby, Ricardo and Alyssa. My heart squeezes.
“Is his family,” Momma continues as they all nod in unison. “We love him. He's a good man, America. He's not perfect, but he's got a heart like no one else and a good soul. Judge not, lest you be judged is all I'm sayin'.”
The camera focuses back on Anne. “Well, there you have it, folks.”
***
I walk into the room and I immediately want to turn right back around. This can't be my new lawyer.
She's too young. Younger than me. Maybe even younger than Alyssa, who knows.
The one thing I do know is...there's no way she's the best lawyer on the East Coast.
“I'm sorry. I think there's been a mistake,” I say before turning around.
“There's no mistake, Jackson. My name is Michelle. I know you were probably expecting my father.”
Needless to say, she's got my attention. “I didn't mean to be rude. I'm just—”
She holds out her hand. “Worried? Scared? Nervous?”
I shake her hand. “All of the above.”
She sits down. “My dad is the big wig in the family. The one Ricardo spoke to and hired, actually.”
I take a seat, although, I'm not sure why, but for some reason I feel compelled to. “No offense, Michelle. But if your dad is the lawyer. Then why are you here?”
She smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, I'm a lawyer too, actually.”
“Oh, so I guess you're just taking care of some of the paperwork for him?”
She pulls out a briefcase. “No. I actually asked my father if it would be okay to take on this case myself.”
I shift in my seat, trying to think of a polite way to decline and tell her that I need her father. “Look, you seem really nice and—”
“I went to school with Lilly.”
I feel the gravitational tug on my heart from hearing her name. Well, that would explain why she looks so young.
She folds her hands on the table. “We had a few classes together at Harvard. I'd like to think we were friends. Your sister was an amazing person.”
“I know.”
“I saw the subtle change in her, Jackson. She went from being happy-go-lucky and so full of life and happiness to being miserable.”
I put my head in my hands. “I should have noticed the signs. I should have—”
“She would have denied it,” she says. “I tried talking to her a few times and it was like talking to a brick wall. The only thing that confronting her did was make her distance herself more.” She holds my gaze. “Abuse victims leave their abusers on average seven times before they leave for good. It wasn't her fault, but she would have stayed until she found the strength within herself to leave.”
I look down. “But if I knew...I could have saved her life.”
“No,” she says. “And you know why? Because Lilly already knew she could go to you, Jackson. She knew how much you loved her. She knew that if she called you and said that she needed you that you would have been right there. She knew that.”
I look up. “Why didn't she?”
That's the question that will always haunt me. Why didn't she? I would have done anything for her, anything.
“Because she blamed herself for the pain,” she whispers. “Because he made her. That's what abusers do. They tear you down piece by piece and bit by bit. Until there's nothing left anymore.”
She wipes her eyes. “But make no mistake about it. None of this was her fault. It was all him.”
“I know.” I sit up and look at her. “You know a lot about this.”
She nods. “I do.”
There's a moment of silence between us before she takes out a manila folder. “It's why I asked my dad if I could take on this case.” She bites the cap of her pen nervously. “But you'd really be taking a huge risk with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“This would be my very first case by myself.”
Oh, that's what she means.
I sit back and cross my arms. “Okay, Let's say I hire you. What's the argument?”
“I don't have one.”
“Look, I didn't go to law school. And I'm not nearly as smart as Lilly was...but I do know that defense attorneys should present an argument. You know, like self-defense, insanity, or an accidental killing.”
She crosses her arms, stares me down and I immediately feel it. “He wasn't attacking you, he attacked Lilly. You're not insane. And you don't regret it, so I'm not sure that going with an accidental killing defense would be the best way to go. So, the way I see it...that only leaves me with one choice.”
“Which is?”
“Telling the truth.”
I stand up and shake her hand. “You're hired.”
She jumps to her feet. “What? Really? You mean it?”
“Yup. That's the only way I want to win this case. And I can't help but think that if it was Lilly herself defending me, she would want the same.”