AS AN ATTORNEY, YOUR LIFE revolves around a courtroom, surrounded by jurors, high emotions, and scum of the Earth criminals. As depressing as much of what you hear and see is, the hunger for justice is stronger. I’ve heard people say lawyers live for the thrill of the kill, but I’d say the opposite. I think our main objective is to find life in dismal situations, whether it be murder, abuse or petty thievery.
And for me and the attorney I soon hope to become. Sure, we’re there to defend or prosecute someone for a crime that falls somewhere on the spectrum of wrong, but I think helping those who can’t help themselves is your main goal as an attorney. It is if you’re there for the right reasons.
I haven’t been in a court setting in months, but as soon as I walk through the double doors with Dad, I feel revived and I remember what I love so much about it. Unless it’s traffic court and misdemeanors. In the words of my younger self—gag me with a spoon. But other cases, the ones that keep you up late at night knowing in your core that you can make a difference, those are the cases that hold the key to my drive to do this.
A recent case that has plagued my mind, maybe because of friends like Jessica and Madison, is that of a sixteen-year-old girl charged with the murder of her stepfather. When the file first came across my desk, the only things included were the initial police and coroner reports that painted a picture of a man who’d been shot in his sleep by his teenage stepdaughter. But within days, more and more papers were added to the collection; background checks, financial statements, and finally, the statement the girl had given to my father when her mother obtained him to represent her daughter.
Detailed recounts of daily sexual and physical abuse dealt to both her and her mother by this man for three years. The two miscarriages she’d endured after him taking her innocence and continuing to do so nearly every day for much of the time he was present in their lives. But the breaking point, and possibly most life altering part of her statement, or anything else I’d ever read in my life, was the night before she took his life, when he tied them both up and forced them to watch as he raped her eleven-year-old sister. She recounts in detail each thing he did to her as she cried and begged him to stop while mere feet away from the two women he’d done this to for years, the two women who endured these heinous acts because they’d convinced themselves that if they did, they could somehow protect her from it, from him, from all of it.
She said that she knew then, this sixteen-year-old girl who’d had to endure more than most people endure in a lifetime, that he would never stop and even if they somehow finally got away from him, this man would never stop. She had already allowed her sister’s innocence to be ripped away, and she would rather spend every day of the rest of her life locked away in a prison cell than to know that she let him get away with doing it to another human being ever again. So, she managed to concoct and follow through with a plan that would ensure that it never did.
My father asked for clarification, if the act was premeditated and her answer to him was swift, direct, and carried the absolution of a woman who’d lived a lifetime. “Hell yes it was. And I’d do it all over again if he were still breathing.”
I’ll carry those words with me wherever I go, and I will see that girl’s face every time I see a victim of abuse. And I will never apologize for agreeing with her. What that girl needs isn’t prison, although, even with my father at her side, I’m certain that’s what she will receive.
I think of her often, pulling out her file from time to time to remind myself what it is I’m doing—what it is I hope to achieve and all the young victims of abuse that I hope to one day fight for. That girl brought me out of my black and white world and into the gray shadows of what is real life for more people than many of us would like to acknowledge.
Is murder wrong? Yes. I wish instead of killing him she’d managed to break free of those chains, leaving him to spend every waking minute staring at the block walls of a solitary cell.
But I hope to one day tell her that she changed my view of this world and the true nature of humanity which is to protect those we love.
I’ve caught myself comparing her situation with Stone’s today. No, they aren’t the same, but their reasons hold the same meaning for me—protect those you love.
As soon as we return to the office, I sit at my desk and pull up my browser, typing Joseph Cameron, Illinois Senator into the box. Instantly, pictures and article after article of his achievements and accolades come up and I can’t help the immature roll of my eyes. I don’t know what I’m looking for, or if I’ll even find anything. But I do know that he isn’t what the public perceives him to be and I intend on finding some missing pieces of the puzzle to show the real picture.
I go over the few bits of information I’ve been given, which is hardly anything to go on, but in the beginning, there usually isn’t. Minutes turn to hours and all I manage to come up with is a headache and a sore back.
“Got any lunch plans today?” I turn to see my father standing in the doorway of my office and my smile is weak but immediate. He looks at his watch. “Or should I say an early dinner.”
“Hey, Dad. No court tomorrow? I saw the schedule had been blocked off.”
“Filed a continuance last week, so it looks like I’m free until Tuesday. Thought about taking your mother somewhere for the weekend. What do you think?”
“Sorry, Dad. Guess my mind’s a little all over the place. I think that’s an excellent idea. Need me to make some reservations for you?”
“She mentioned going back to Miami. You might look at some flights leaving tomorrow morning. Of course, I’ll have to tell her so she can make arrangements for the gallery to be closed.”
I type flight information into the search engine as he speaks. “Yeah, it looks like there’s actually some direct flights.”
“I’ll let you know for sure after I speak to Mom. Meet me downstairs in thirty?” It’s been a while since we’ve had a meal together, so I nod.
“Sounds good.”
When he leaves, I click back into the browser I’d been using to research Cameron. Scrolling through images I’ve looked at over and over, I spot something I hadn’t seen before; a picture of Joseph Cameron and the Mayor of Chicago, Mark Collins. I lean back in my chair, going over the couple of conversations Kelli and I’ve had recently; her almost imperceptive nervousness in her office, the phone call. It couldn’t all be coincidence, could it?
I pull out my phone and shoot her a text.
I lean back, palms flat against my full stomach.
“Wow. I feel like that’s the first real meal I’ve had in weeks. Thanks, Dad.”
“We should be ashamed of ourselves for not doing it every week. We need to make it a point. After all, I’m not getting any younger.” He smiles up at me, the creases at the corners of his blue eyes appearing deeper than the last time I noticed them. Regardless, my father is still stunningly handsome as he nears sixty. I can only hope that I age as gracefully as he and my mother both have managed. He looks from me to his hands atop the table, shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly, and I know the direction our conversation is about to go.
“I know you hate it when I bring it up, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned that you are going to just let your law degree go untouched. I love having you as my assistant, but it’s been six months, Lydia.”
I’ve thought a lot about this very thing in recent days since this whole deal with Rush Keeling found its way into our office and my world. My mind’s been miles away for months, and even though I’m concerned, this case and all it entails has captured my attention. It reminds me of someone I once knew.
“Do you remember Jessica? From high school?”
“I remember her father better.”
“I’ve got this same feeling for Rush, well really, Stone, the way I did with her back then. Something’s going on and I can’t put my finger on it. But I want to.”
“Stone is a grown man and he isn’t our client. You need to focus on building a defense for Rush.”
“That’s just it, Dad. I’ve been working on Rush’s case and the more I dig, the more I find out about Senator Cameron that screams corruption.”
“Joseph Cameron isn’t the one facing charges, Lydia. And I thought you said Stone was the one in trouble?”
“Cameron’s involved in the underground. He says he’ll drop the charges against Rush if Stone fights some Russian.”
That gets his attention.
“Cameron wants Stone to fight.” His question comes out as a statement. “This sounds exactly like the type of thing you do not need to get involved with. If Cameron has a stake in some street fight, it’s probably something you need to stay far away from.”
“Rush is our client. It’s our job to ensure he is protected in that courtroom. How am I supposed to do that if I don’t have all the information pertinent to the case? And apparently, it is or Cameron wouldn’t be so willing to drop these so-called charges.”
“Yes, in the courtroom. Need I remind you that you are days away from having a baby to care for? Your life is about to change exponentially. That’s what you should be focused on, not this.” He pulls his napkin from his lap and motions for the waiter. “Check, please.”
“Right away, sir.” The waiter leaves as quickly as he arrived and my father looks back to me.
“I think maybe it’s best if I take over the case from here. I should’ve trusted my gut in the conference room, because looking between the two of you I had a feeling this would be a conflict of interest.”
“This is not a conflict of interest, it’s me doing my job. Thoroughly.”
“Your job is to be an attorney, not a detective. Build a defense to the case presented. No more, no less.”
“Maybe you and Mom should leave tonight, take a few days and really clear your mind, because I think you’ve forgotten what it’s all about, Dad. To be the best at this job, sometimes you have to be both.”
He blows out a heavy breath. “If he’s a fighter, then why doesn’t he just take the fight, solve the problem?”
“If I don’t do my job, he will. And you know as well as I do it won’t stop there.”
“So, what do you propose, Lydia? You risk your safety and that of this baby by getting involved with this mess—these people?”
I consider what he’s said. I’ve never had to stop and think. When it comes to this job I just do what needs to be done. But right now, I feel defeated, alone in my beliefs.
“I don’t know, Dad. But I sure thought coming to you would prove helpful in figuring it out. My mistake.”
The waiter places the check before my father and my father takes a money clip from his pocket, dropping cash inside. I stand, pulling my coat from the chair.
“I tried to convince myself that we didn’t, but the three of us passed judgment on Stone in the meeting that day, and we were wrong. He’s not some hood rat, Dad. He’s a good person who deserves our help, and he may not receive it from you, but he will from me.”
Instead of going home after mine and Dad’s heated discussion, I decided to head back into the office and finish up some work as well as digging a little more into the life of Joseph Cameron. A spark has ignited a flame, and one I doubt will smolder until I get some answers.
After several hours and coming up empty handed, I finalized Mom and Dad’s airline tickets and cleared his schedule for the first part of next week like he instructed in the impersonal text message I received from him. What I wouldn’t give to take a few days, go somewhere and just stare off into space, forget about the chaos in my brain.
“Aston told me you’d still be here,” Helaena says from the doorway of my office, the thump of her bag landing in the chair causing me to jump.
“Isn’t he gone?”
“Yes. He texted me and asked me to check on you before I left the office, didn’t want you walking out alone.” She sits in the chair across from my desk. “Where’s Diane?”
“I’ve been closing up. With the baby coming soon I figured she should get a few early days in.”
“Aston told me that you decided to care for the baby.”
I nod.
“They’ll come around, you know?”
I nod again.
“As much as it angered me at first, I get it now,” I reply, continuing to work.
“You know I’m just going to sit here and stalk you until you finish, right?”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be? I know you better than you sitting home alone on a Friday night.”
“Actually, our monthly Elite meeting is tonight.”
My eyes widen. Has it really been a month?
“And you weren’t going to say anything to me about it? Am I really such a forgone conclusion?” I smirk.
“I knew that wasn’t your scene. But it got you back on the horse, didn’t it? How is Stone by the way?”
My eyes narrow fractionally. “How did you—”
“I saw the two of you talking that night. Knowing you like I do, and seeing the look on his face when you left the party, I knew something would come of it.”
“Have the two of you ever?” I let the words hang, not even sure if I know where the question is coming from or if I have the right to ask it.
“Never exchanged cards,” she answers.
“So, you didn’t know he was a criminal?” I ask, trying to eliminate the venom from my words and instantly hating myself for saying it. I’m not ill toward her, just the situation.
“I know he’s a respected and wealthy business owner. Criminal is such a nasty word, Lydia. Surely you don’t believe that.”
“He fought in the same organization as Damon, Helaena. Surely you do believe it.”
“We all have our story to tell. I don’t think just because he and Damon possess some of the same skills means he and Damon possess the same qualities, morals or demons.” The mention of Damon and demons in the same sentence makes bile rise in my throat.
I mentally slap myself for being so crude about Stone.
“You’re right. Gah.” I stand from my desk. “As much as I wanted to believe that he is, I’ve always known he isn’t.” I look up at her. “Do you think Madi felt the same?”
“We have to assume all people around us are monsters to some extent. You never know what someone is capable of, as an attorney I’m sure you’re aware of this.” We walk to the stairs together. “But you can’t walk around in a bubble, Lydia. You just get close enough to keep warm without falling into the fire.”