Broken: A story of hope and forgiveness

by Kevin Mark Smith

  Chapter 27

  Zealous Advocacy

  Jacob T. McAllister, “Attorney & Counselor At Law,” as his business cards and yellow page ads trumpeted, was sitting in a familiar place, one he found himself in at least once every couple of weeks. It was the jail’s professional visitation area, which resembled most others in the state. He stared at the disheveled criminal defendant on the other side of the glass, wondering how in the world he could convince his client that a plea was his best option. They nodded at one another and reached for their respective handsets.

  “Hello,” Jacob said.

  “Hi,” was all Thomas could come up with, and it was a very disheartening “hi” at that, one that told Jacob, the seasoned advocate that he was, that all was not well with his client.

  “You doing okay?” he rhetorically asked, already knowing the true answer.

  “No.”

  Jacob nodded in agreement. “I understand.”

  Still holding the handset to his face, Jacob reached back to his briefcase and pulled out Thomas’s case file and a yellow legal pad.

  “You gotta get me out of here,” he demanded halfheartedly.

  Jacob shook his head back and forth. “I’m doing my best,” he replied. “I filed a motion to modify your bond as soon as today’s appearance ended, but it’s not set for hearing until next Friday, so you’ll have to sit tight at least ‘til then.”

  “Can’t my parents post the bond?” He knew the answer already. He had talked to his mom the week before. She told him that their part in his life would end with them writing a check to Jacob. They hadn’t even accepted any more of his collect calls since then.

  Jacob shook his head.

  Thomas dropped his head to the surface of the counter in front of him. Jacob sat silent for a few moments and then broke the silence by shuffling the paperwork in the file, faking a cough, and pretending to read its contents.

  “We need to talk about your case,” he began. “There’s good news and bad news. The good news is that your initial arrest and search of the motel room were illegal and we should be able to suppress the evidence obtained, including the victim’s backpack, computer, and wallet.”

  Thomas sat up and smiled. “The bad news?” he asked, deflating slightly as he did.

  “I’m afraid there’s more of that. First, there’s a DNA match with the blood on your bumper and the victim, and if that comes in, which it will, we have a big problem. It’s evidence that is subject to the doctrine of “inevitable discovery,” which means it isn’t likely to be suppressed. Second, the tarp on the body hurts us. It indicates a clear intent to cover up the evidence, though it was a pretty poor attempt to do so. The state will argue that you tried to buy time, to delay the body’s discovery ‘til you were long gone and out of reach. It also won’t help us if they put that boys parents on the stand and they testify that he had a backpack that was not with the boy when he was discovered, regardless of our success in suppressing the contents of the room. Third, and this may be the biggest obstacle, the officers claim in their reports that they smelled alcohol, and I suspect that the prosecutor will try to admit your priors if you take the stand to rebut the officers’ testimony. In summation, you’ve got an uphill battle even with the investigation screw ups.”

  He’d heard it before, on two of his last three DUI cases. Only Charles Fleming had given him hope, and that case ended up disappearing.

  “That’s the best you’ve got?” he asked, sarcastically this time, with a hint of anger directed at his attorney. “I thought you were here to defend me, not prosecute?”

  Jacob’s complexion reddened as he sensed that his client had doubts about his lawyerly skills. He thought about the many cases where he’d fought tooth and nail for his clients, good cases that had ended up in acquittals or dismissals. (There were, of course, many others that had resulted in convictions.) He had practiced criminal defense for twenty years and had a sparkling reputation, or so he thought, and he couldn’t help but think that the scumbag sitting in front of him was clueless.

  “Let’s be clear,” he finally said. “I am here to defend you, but your background tells me that you know the difference between reality and fantasy. No case is better than its facts, and your facts stink, to put it bluntly. My goal going into every case is acquittal or dismissal, but police and forensic reports often change that goal into minimizing the time you have to serve, and that’s what you’ve left me with, in my opinion.”

  Thomas sat still, processing what Jacob just told him, and then said, “I know. I was just hoping that you’d have a rabbit in your hat, something good to tell me.”

  “I’m meeting with the prosecutor in half-an-hour to talk about a possible plea. I’ll be back tomorrow to tell you what she’s willing to offer.”

  “Any feelings?”

  “Not really,” he replied as he closed his file and placed it back in the brief case. He then turned back to Thomas. “We’ll get through this, one way or another.”

  Michael smiled and thought, At least he cares about me.