Her Kind of Case: A Lee Isaacs, Esq. Novel

by Jeanne Winer

  After they settled themselves, Lee pulled a paper bag out of her briefcase.

  “I’ve got hummus wrapped in a gluten-free tortilla, or a turkey, Swiss, and tomato sandwich. Which would you like?”

  Judith started to shake her head, but then said, “I’ll take the hummus if you don’t mind.” She paused to unwrap it. “Did Phil tell you I was gluten-free?”

  “He did.” Lee tore into the other sandwich. She’d missed breakfast and was starving.

  Judith took a tiny bite and asked, “How come you took so long to call me?”

  “I was waiting for your anger to evaporate, hoping it would be replaced with bittersweet memories of the past.”

  “Are you being serious?” Judith asked. “I’ve always had a hard time telling if Phil was joking or not. I think you’re like him.”

  “I probably am. Most defense lawyers have a dry sense of humor. But in fact, I was being serious.”

  “I’m not sure I believe you, but I guess it doesn’t matter because you’re right. I’m no longer angry and I want to help. I’d feel terrible if Phil lost his job. It’s all he has. He’s a workaholic, one of the many reasons I don’t want to be married to him any more. I still love him, but he’s never going to change. His work makes him too melancholy, too sad. There has to be some lightness to balance it all out, something hopeful. Instead, it’s just one dark drama after another.” She stopped and sighed. “Is he all right?”

  “He will be. But right now, let’s see if we can save his career.”

  “How can I help?”

  Lee then explained the various charges in the case and how she hoped to get most of them dropped.

  “What I’m worried about is the harassment charge involving you, and the menacing and criminal mischief involving Bob. The burglary and trespass should never have been filed since Phil had a key and was always welcome.” Lee paused. “That’s true, isn’t it?”

  Judith thought for a moment. She wasn’t stupid.

  “Yes, I’d say so.”

  “Good,” Lee said. “But if he was always welcome, how come you tried to lock him out?”

  “That’s easy. He was being a drunken asshole.”

  “No doubt, but is there another answer that would also be true, something about the timing?” Lee kept her face impassive.

  Three or four seconds later, Judith nodded.

  “Yes, I could say it was an inconvenient time and I was embarrassed.”

  “Good, let’s run with that.” Lee took another bite of her sandwich and said, “In the police report, you told the detectives that Phil pushed past you, trying to get at Bob.”

  “That’s true.”

  “So he didn’t push you, he simply pushed past you in an effort to catch up with Bob, who managed to elude him?”

  “Right.”

  “So any physical contact with you was inadvertent and, in your opinion, not made with the intent to harass, annoy, or alarm you? He was just trying to get to Bob?”

  “Exactly.”

  “When he kicked the wall, do you think he knew what he was doing?”

  “No,” Judith answered. “He was stinking drunk and really frustrated that Bob was able to elude him. Plus, the wall was in bad shape anyway. Actually, so was the bannister.”

  “You should have been a lawyer.”

  “That’s what Phil always told me.” Her face darkened. “I’m really going to miss him.” She leaned down, picked up a rock, and threw it at the nearest bush. “Damn him,” she muttered.

  Lee gave her a moment and then said, “I’m assuming the cell phone falling into the pot of water was an accident?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “I appreciate your cooperation, Judith, and I’ve instructed Phil to have absolutely no contact until you’re both ready, which might be a long time.”

  “Just until he accepts that we’re done.”

  “That could be a while, Judith.” Lee’s voice was gentle but firm.

  “Okay then.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a Kleenex, and blew her nose. “Oh, I almost forgot. Bob just wants Phil to pay for the damage to his car. The bill came to forty-eight hundred dollars, which seems like a lot, but if I were you, I wouldn’t haggle. Though I’m not supposed to tell you, he doesn’t want to testify. He’s worried about the publicity, how it might affect his reputation.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Yeah. Mostly he’s embarrassed.”

  “Because he hid in your bedroom?” Lee asked.

  “What a wuss. You can tell Phil I’m done with him.”

  “I can’t. News like that would only make him hope again.”

  “Oh.” She looked dejected. “You’re right. This is hard.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Lee waited a few seconds. “Would you be willing to come with me when I talk to the DA on Thursday? It could make a huge difference. I’ll also need a statement that I can send to the Office of Attorney Regulation.”

  “Saying what?”

  “The truth in the most helpful way you can phrase it. In addition, if you have absolutely no fear of your husband, it would be great if you would say that. Oh, and also that he’s never behaved this way before.”

  Judith pushed a strand of hair off her lovely, troubled face.

  “I can say both of them, but I’m concerned about his drinking. It’s getting worse.”

  “Fine, I’ll make alcohol counseling a condition of his probation.”

  “He won’t like it.” Judith stood up, brushing crumbs off her linen pants.

  “Too bad. You’re being a very good sport about this. If you think he needs counseling, I’ll make it happen. It’s the least I can do.” Lee crushed the paper bag into a ball and stuffed it into her briefcase. “Will you come with me on Thursday?”

  “I’d prefer not to. Would it really matter?”

  “Yes. I’ll get a better deal if you come with me.”

  Suddenly, a large wet dog appeared in front of them. He’d obviously been swimming in the creek and hadn’t shaken himself off yet.

  “Shoo,” Lee said, sliding as far away as she could.

  Judith immediately bent down to scratch his ears.

  “Hello, big fella. You’re a beauty, aren’t you?”

  After a couple of minutes, the dog took off and Judith straightened up again.

  “I guess I owe him that much. What time is the meeting?”

  “Thank you.” Lee pulled out her appointment book to check. “Four-thirty. I can make it earlier if you want.”

  “Four-thirty’s fine. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria on the first floor. It’s where I always met Phil. Could you at least tell him I wish him well?”

  “Sure.”

  “You won’t, will you?”

  “No,” Lee said. “If you’re really done, you need to stay away. A complete news blackout is best.”

  “Thanks for your honesty, Lee. No wonder Phil thinks so highly of you. I’ll see you on Thursday.” She turned and started walking toward the library.

  Lee watched until she disappeared around a corner. With her looks and intellect, it wouldn’t be long before she found another man. But he wouldn’t have Phil’s dark, disturbing, funny sensibility. Would she miss it? Lee thought she would. But then again, she and Phil were landsmen, members of the same legal tribe that spent too much time in the underworld.

  A week before the trial, Lee drove to the back of the Justice Center with Mark and Bobby in tow. Both men were uncharacteristically quiet while she parked her 4Runner in a space between two police cars. For months, she’d toyed with the idea of introducing Jeremy to her friends, but had only recently asked her client if he was interested in meeting two gay men who’d been in a relationship for thirty years.

  Jeremy’s response had been lukewarm.

  “Are they like really old?” he’d asked.

  So then Lee told him about their long and dangerous career as high altitude mountain climbers and, for good measure, hinted that they loo
ked like fashion models—true but extremely superficial—which worked.

  “Okay,” he’d said quickly. “I mean if you think I should meet them.”

  As she turned off the ignition, Lee wondered if it was a mistake to mix her personal and professional lives. For thirty-five years, she’d scrupulously kept her clients in the dark about who she was when she wasn’t their lawyer. At the last hearing, she told Jeremy more about herself than she’d ever divulged to a client. It made a huge difference and she was glad she did.

  But taking her friends to meet him would further blur the lines between them. Was that a good thing as well? Normally, it wasn’t. Most clients needed to look up to her as the calm and distant captain who would steer them through the rocks and shoals of the system, delivering them to a safer place. Undue familiarity could easily weaken the blind allegiance often necessary in a defendant-attorney relationship. Unlike most clients, however, Jeremy craved authenticity and closeness. He’d had enough secrecy to last the rest of his life.

  Most of all, though, he needed confidence and self-esteem. Without it, he’d never withstand Dan’s sly, skillful cross-examination, which could be surprisingly gentle, until it wasn’t. To fight for his life, Jeremy needed to believe it was actually worth fighting for. Hence the decision to let him meet her friends, two gay men whose lives were rich and interesting and who thanked God every day for their sexuality.

  After parking the car, Lee glanced at her friends.

  “Well, we’re here.” She pointed to the stairs that led to the facility. At the top of the stairs was a plain door and a large metal buzzer.

  Both men looked confused. They’d never been in a jail or prison, but like most people had seen movies and photographs depicting guard towers, massive steel gates, barbed wire, and ominous signs announcing a detention center.

  “It doesn’t look like much,” Lee admitted, “but it’s the real thing. Come on.”

  While they waited to be let in, Lee asked if they had any last-minute questions. They shook their heads. Both men were dressed casually, Mark in his usual jeans and blue denim shirt, Bobby in black pants and a green cashmere sweater. If she looked at them objectively, they were gorgeous. Hardly representative of any population, but they were all she had.

  “Remember, he’s only seventeen,” she said. “Like most teenagers, he’s self-absorbed, immature, and stubborn. In addition to that, he’s depressed. And, as you might expect, he suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder.” She smiled at them. “And yet, despite all that, he’s quite delightful.”

  Her friends looked unconvinced.

  “One last caveat: You can talk about anything you want, but don’t lie to him or make empty promises. He’s very sensitive and has a well-developed bullshit detector. I’m taking a chance bringing you to see him, but I think it’ll be worth it.” The door buzzed open. “Well, in you go.”

  She herded them down the hall and eventually into the room with the couch and the two metal chairs. The poster was still on the wall—“Today is the first day of the rest of your life”—although someone had scribbled “fuck that” in response. The guard, a barrel-shaped man with a crew-cut, agreed to bring her client. Her friends tried the couch and grimaced, but stayed where they were. Lee took one of the chairs.

  After a couple of minutes, the guard brought Jeremy to the room. Her client stood shyly in the doorway and wouldn’t come any further. He was wearing a black T-shirt with a picture of Bob Marley on the front, a pair of baggy jeans, and new purple high-tops without laces. His thick brown hair was almost too long now. Lee smiled encouragingly.

  “Come on in,” she said, “and meet my friends.” She pointed to the two men, who looked almost as nervous as Jeremy.

  “I’m Mark,” Mark said, slowly standing up. “And this is my partner Bobby.” Bobby stood up as well. Jeremy simply stared at them.

  “Are we your first visitors?” Bobby asked.

  “No, my Aunt Peggy comes three times a week.” He blushed a little. “But she’s, you know, my aunt.”

  “And Mrs. Weissmann is coming this weekend,” Lee reminded him. Lee had called the old woman, identified herself as Jeremy’s lawyer, and asked if she would come to Boulder on Saturday if Carla picked her up. She could meet with Lee and then see Jeremy if she wanted.

  “Oh yes!” Mrs. Weissmann had replied. “I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. What time should I be ready?”

  There was a brief, awkward silence in the room, but Bobby broke it.

  “Well, it’s great to meet you, Jeremy. I’ve never been in a jail before. It must have been hard to get used to.”

  “Not really,” Jeremy said.

  “Oh. Well, how’s the food in here?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s okay.” He shrugged. “Kind of salty. And the vegetables all come from a can.”

  “Yuck,” Bobby said, making a face.

  Jeremy finally smiled.

  “It’s not so bad. What-what else do you want to know?” He walked into the room and sat down. Mark and Bobby then lowered themselves onto the couch, which sank to the floor.

  “So what do you do all day?” Mark asked.

  “Not much. We get an hour in the yard if it’s nice. I kind of walk around in circles. And there’s television, but I don’t like it. Mr. Clean says I sleep too much. So I’m beginning to read.”

  Bobby’s face brightened.

  “Have you read Catch-22? That was my favorite novel in high school.”

  “Um, I think I’ve heard of it.”

  Bobby turned to Lee and asked if he could send the book to her client.

  “Sorry,” she said, “it’s not allowed.”

  “That’s okay,” Jeremy told them. “If I ever get out of here, I’ll find a copy and read it.”

  The room was quiet again. Someone was coughing in the hallway. A toilet in an adjacent room suddenly flushed. Lee began counting all the cracks in the brown linoleum floor.

  “Hey,” Mark finally said, “would you like to hear how we almost lost our fingers and toes on Everest?”

  “Sure. I guess so.”

  When Mark finished his story, Jeremy was silent. Most teenage boys would have asked a thousand questions: about their gear and clothing, how they stayed warm at night, what they ate, how they went to the bathroom, et cetera. As she studied her client’s face, Lee tried to imagine a childhood where almost everything was prohibited—books, television, movies. The world divided into two warring camps, zealots versus heathens. Us and them, Jeremy once explained; us ending up in heaven of course but first living a life in hell, and them doing the opposite. To a boy fantasizing about just being “normal,” mountain climbing would have seemed as remote and as unlikely as space travel. How could he possibly relate?

  But Jeremy was trying.

  “Lee said you don’t climb anymore. So did you just, you know, get tired of it?”

  “Are you kidding?” Mark asked, looking stupefied. “Climbing is one of the most exciting things you can imagine. Everyday life pales in comparison. When you’re climbing, you feel totally alive. There’s nothing like it.”

  “So then why did you stop?”

  Bobby glanced at Lee before answering.

  “Our best friend died in an avalanche. After that, we just didn’t want to.”

  “Oh, right. So your best friend was Lee’s husband?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because she told me.” Jeremy pointed at Lee, who nodded.

  “Lee told you?”

  “Well, duh,” Jeremy said, smiling a little. “I mean, how else would I know?” But then something occurred to him and his smile faded. He sat forward and asked, “Were you, like, right there when he died?” His voice sounded strained.

  “We were, yes,” Mark said.

  “Oh wow. Did-did you try and save him?”

  “We couldn’t. It all happened so fast, thousands of tons of snow traveling at about ninety miles an hour. When it all stopped, it set up like c
oncrete. We searched until dark and then gave up.”

  “We came back every day for a week,” Bobby added, “but we never found his body.”

  “Oh wow. So-so even though it wasn’t your fault, did you kind of blame yourselves anyway?”

  “Why would they blame themselves?” Lee asked. “It was an accident. There was nothing they could do.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jeremy explained. “It’s just, you know, how people feel when they can’t stop something bad from happening. My therapist says it’s normal.”

  “You’re right,” Bobby told Jeremy. “We did blame ourselves. Mark’s nightmares got so bad, he had to go to therapy, just like you.”

  “But that’s terrible!” Lee said. “I never blamed you guys for a second. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were kind of a mess,” Mark answered. “You didn’t want to talk about it. Besides, if you’d felt responsible too, you wouldn’t have told us.”

  “Why would I have felt responsible?” She was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

  “You wouldn’t,” Bobby said. “It would’ve been totally irrational.” He was staring at Mark.

  “Of course it was,” Mark agreed, “but for all we know, you might have blamed yourself for never telling him how you felt about the risks involved, the danger we continually put ourselves in.”

  Bringing her friends and her client together might have been a mistake.

  “But there was nothing to tell. I felt fine about it.”

  “No concerns at all, even after K2?” Mark asked. Bobby reached over to hold his hand. They were both looking at her, waiting.

  Lee started to deny it, but then stopped. Why did it matter? But somehow it obviously did.

  “Okay, fine. I was concerned after K2 but kept it to myself. There was an unspoken pact between us that I wanted to honor. And after a while, I mostly accepted it again.”

  “We kept it to ourselves, too,” Mark said.