by Mark Stone
“Not we,” I clarified. “I’m the one doing this. You’re not involved.”
I walked Justin shuffle and could see that he was trying to keep himself collected. “I get that,” he finally said sternly. “If I was to be involved, it would open the case up to-”
“I don’t need a lesson in the law,” I answered. “And I’m not telling you this in an accusatory manner. It’s actually a good thing. After I do this, Daphne is going to hate me. She did all of this for her son, so she could get to know him. Assuming I can get her off for this murder, she’s either going to lose her son all over again or another truth will come out and I’ll be the person who tried to railroad her innocent son to save her life. Either way, I won’t be getting any Christmas cards. You, though, you’re her brother. You don’t have to be involved in this. You can still be there for her, just present to help her out. At least, that way, she can have at least one person to turn to once all of this is over.”
Justin stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to decide whether or not he should still be pissed at me.
“Right,” he said flatly. “That’s not a bad idea.” Shaking his head, he continued. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Usually, not too much,” I admitted, letting a slight smile creep across my face. For his part, Justin didn’t match it with one of his own.
“You could have died,” Justin said. “Or you could have freaked them out and they could have killed Mike. What would possess you to do something like that?”
“Honestly?” I asked, shrugging. “I thought about what you would have done if you were there, and I just did that.”
“Touché,” Justin muttered, shaking his head.
“Listen,” I started. “There’s something else. Fallon O’Keefe is going on the news. I’m not sure what she’s going to say about me. I’m honestly not sure if the interview itself will make me too much of a story to actually be able to continue with this case. I don’t want to become the focal point of this case, especially since I can’t imagine what Fallon has to say will be too complimentary.”
“You have a point,” Justin said. “But my sister trusts you. She believes in you, and though you piss me off a lot, I do too. She wants the best. She deserves the best, and that’s you. But you’re right. You can’t strut into that courtroom as the talk of the town. You’d better go fix this.” He shook his head again. “Get down to that news station and convince her not to go on.”
I crooked my head to the side. “Any ideas on how to do that?”
“You’re a defense attorney,” Justin suggested. “Lawyer your ass off.”
Chapter 20
“Ms. O’Keefe,” I said, settling in front of the woman and trying my best to remain professional. I was a grown man. So, that shouldn’t have been as hard as it was feeling right now. Still, the idea of a woman coming to my home, parading herself around with the deepest and darkest details of my past, and then actually going live on the news to exploit those details struck me as more than a little distasteful. Luckily, it wasn’t time for the news yet. So, I still had time enough to convince her that she was making a huge mistake.
“Mr. Archer,” Fallon said, grinning widely at me as a woman finished putting her makeup on for camera. “I didn’t expect this. Can I assume you want to do a joint interview?”
I glared at her, not speaking for long enough for her to know what my answer was without vocalizing it.
“I’m guessing that’s a no,” she muttered as the makeup artist packed her things and exited the room. “That’s a shame. I think it would really help ratings.”
“I don’t think the news needs us to help with their ratings, Fallon,” I grunted, walking toward her. She stood, checking herself out in the mirror.
“I wasn’t talking about their ratings, Rick,” she said, following my lead and using my given name. “I was talking about my own. I could record this and put it in the upcoming season of the podcast. I think it would really make for explosive listening.”
“Explosive listening?” I balked. “Is that all this is about to you?”
“That’s all anything is about, Rick,” Fallon said without even a hint of shame or hesitation in her voice. “I’m here to uncover the truth.”
“The truth?” I shot back, my jaw clenching. “You act like I’ve been hiding who I really am. I haven’t.”
“You haven’t had to,” she fired back. “You hopped a plane and landed where no one knew your name.”
“I came here because my friend offered me a job,” I responded.
“And because no one in Chicago was willing to hire you,” Fallon said. “Don’t you think the people you represent deserve to know that? Don’t you think knowing that the biggest cities in the world consider you un-hirable is something the people who put their futures in your hands deserve to be able to weigh when making a decision about who will represent them?”
I was fuming. In fact, fuming wasn’t a big enough word for what I was doing. Hell, I wouldn’t have been surprised if smoke hadn’t start billowing from my ears.
‘Like I said,” I started, trying to remain as calm as possible. “I’ve never made who I am or my past a secret. In fact, I’m sure there are a lot of people in this city who could tell you exactly who I am and the circumstances that led me here.”
“Maybe,” Fallon conceded. “But there will be a lot more after tonight.” She shook her head. “Once I explain to the people of Naples who you are and what my podcast is about, they’ll all know exactly what kind of person you are. Then we’ll see how quick they’ll be to hire you.”
I stared at the woman for a long moment. I had missed something before. This wasn’t what I thought it was. This was more.
“There’s something else going on here,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“What?” Fallon asked, flinching a little as she spoke.
“You hate me,” I answered. “This isn’t some artistic endeavor, at least, not entirely. This is personal for you.”
“The truth is personal for everyone, Mr. Archer!” Fallon shot back.
“Don’t feed me that bull,” I answered. “I know what personal vendettas look like, Fallon. I see them everyday in the courtroom. This goes deeper than you wanting to win some stupid podcasting award. This is about getting back at me.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” Fallon answered.
“Maybe,” I answered. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong, and let me tell you another thing, Fallon. I won’t take this lying down. What you’ve done up to this point, asking questions, gallivanting about town bad mouthing me; it’s small potatoes. This however, this is grounds for slander.”
“It’s not slander if it’s the truth,” Fallon shot back. “You’re not the only one who knows a thing or two about the law.”
“That’s true,” I answered. “But you better make sure that literally every word you say out there is true, Fallon. You better make sure that you don’t make an assumption or turn a phrase that can be attributed to something else. Because I’ll be watching you, and more than that, I’ll get to the bottom of why you’re doing this. When I do that, I’m going to bring a lawsuit on you the likes of which you’ve never seen. Once I figure out just why you hate me so much, I’m going to let the world know. Even if I don’t win the damn suit, I’ll paint you as the most personally biased and slanted excuse for a journalist the world has ever seen. I’ll expose every prejudice you have against me and I’ll tell anyone who’ll listen just how it affected your integrity and the work you’ve done. Then we’ll find out which one of us is un-hirable.”
A slow smile crept across Fallon’s face. “Somebody is finally playing hard ball,” she said.
That smile didn’t fool me, though. I had seen it more than a few times in the courtroom, too. I saw it on every criminal who knew they were going down, who knew nothing could save them from the justice they’d earned and who didn’t want to admit they were quaking in their boots. That was a fearful smile, a
nd I was going to make sure it got even more afraid.
“Trust me, Ms. O’Keefe,” I said, without missing a beat. “It can get a lot harder.” I looked back at the door. “Now, if I were you, I’d get a move on. You’ve got an interview to cancel.”
She stared at me for a long moment. “Yeah,” she said, brushing past me and hitting my side as she moved. “I suppose I do.”
I watched the woman walk away with Justin’s words ringing in my mind.
“So, that’s what lawyering your ass off feels like,” I murmured.
Chapter 21
“You’re not even listening to me,” Daphne said, shaking her head hard as she sneered at me from across Justin’s kitchen table. “I already told you, I don’t care about this.”
“Well, then you should start,” I answered, sighing. “Your life is quite literally hanging in the balance, and you’re telling me you don’t care about the case that’s going to decide the rest of it. Can’t you see where I might think that’s a bit troubling?”
“That’s not what I meant,” she responded. “You know I care about my future, but we have bigger problems than that right now, and you refuse to help me.”
My leg shook under the table, an act of expelling energy meant to keep me calm and hopefully stop me from screaming at this woman and her ridiculous demands. I took a deep breath and continued.
“Daphne, I understand your concern, but-as a longtime defense attorney- let me assure you that your murder charge is a lot more pressing and a lot more serious than the charges Mike is facing right now,” I said, keeping my tone as level and professional as possible.
“They have him for Possession and Intent to Distribute. I even heard someone say that, given the amount of drugs he was holding, it’s a felony,” Daphne said. “Don’t you get it? Being convicted of a felony will change his entire life. He’ll have to disclose that at any job interview. It’ll destroy him.”
“Not nearly as much as being convicted for murder will destroy you,” I said. “And, as I’ve explained to you, I can’t represent the both of you.”
“Not even on unrelated charges?” she asked for the third time since I’d come here to go over things. “The drugs don’t have anything to do with the murder.”
“Not even on unrelated charges,” I answered, deciding to forgo the fact that we really didn’t know whether or not the drugs had anything to do with the murder or not. For all I knew, Justin may have been right. Stephen Trapp may have found out his son was dealing drugs and the boy could have killed him to keep the secret safe. If that was, in fact, what happened, I would need to keep it under my hat until it came time to suggest it to the jury. Given the way Daphne was feeling right now, if she caught even a whiff of a plan to bring harm to Mike (even harm that he would deserve), she might do something stupid like confess to a crime she didn’t commit. I couldn’t have that.
“But Rick-”
“Daphne,” I interrupted, leaning forward. “You did this so you could have a relationship with your son. That’s why you came down here in the first place, right?”
“Yes,” she responded, blinking a few times in rapid succession.
“Well, think about it. What kind of relationship do you think you’ll have with him if you’re in jail for the murder of the man he considered his father?” I asked. “Do you really think he’d want anything to do with you? Because I don’t. I think he’d look at you as a murderer, as someone who deserves to be rotting away behind bars.”
“But I-”
“And do you know what else?” I asked, interrupting again. “Even a verdict of Not Guilty might not solve that. He might still hold you responsible. That’s why I need to get to the truth. I need to find out what really happened so that I can present the true perpetrator of this crime to the jury.” I reached out and touched her hand gently. “And to Mike.”
There were tears in Daphne’s eyes as she responded to me. “But if my son goes to jail for his own crimes, what good will any of it be?” She dropped her head. “I did this to him. I didn’t know he had been stolen from me, but if I’d have just had the guts to tell my family what happened, if I’d have just stayed home, had my baby, and raised him myself, maybe I could have saved him from all of this. Don’t you understand? If he’s broken, if he’s a criminal, it’s because I made him one. I did it with my fear and with my weakness, and he doesn’t deserve to go to jail for that. I do. So, if one of us has to go down for something, let it be me. It’s the least I can do after I’ve let him down so much.”
I took a deep breath, staring at the woman for a long moment. She wasn’t going to let this go. She wasn’t going to just sit back and allow me to do what I could to save her. She was going to set herself on fire just to make sure her son didn’t get singed. It would have been commendable if it wasn’t so damn stupid.
“That’s not how this works,” I answered. “I know you think it should, but it doesn’t. His crimes are his, Daphne, just like the ones you’re accused of committing are yours.”
“I get it,” Daphne said. “I really do, but he’s my son, and I won’t do this.”
“Fine,” I said finally, pulling my hand away as my jaw tightened.
“Fine what?” she asked, sitting up a bit straighter in her chair.
“I’ll do it,” I said. “It’s a bad move, and it’s not in your own personal best interests, but if you’re not going to let this go, I’ll represent Mike if he’ll have me.” I leaned forward again. “But you have to focus on this case. You have to do everything in your power to help me get you out of this. Do you understand?”
“I do,” she responded, brightening up considerably. “I really do. Thank you so much. You’re not going to regret this.”
“Oh,” I muttered, thinking about Justin and how he was undoubtedly going to take this. “I think I might.”
Chapter 22
“Are you trying to get me to punch you?” Justin asked, his eyes wide and his hands splayed out at his sides. “I asked you to do one thing, Rick. I asked you not to take on Mike Trapp as a client.”
I winced. I knew my best friend wasn’t going to take this well. He had, in fact, specifically instructed me not to do the very thing I’d just promised to do and given the fact that he was both my best friend and boss, he had every right to expect me to follow those instructions. Still, I had my reasons, and I hoped I could get him to understand them, even if I hadn’t actually went through with anything yet.
“To be one hundred percent fair to me, I haven’t actually taken Mike Trapp on as a client yet. I just told your sister that I would,” I answered.
“And, to be one hundred percent fair to me, I don’t give a rat’s ass about your semantics,” Justin said. “I asked you not to do something. I gave you the reasons it was a bad idea, a monumentally bad idea. You even agreed with those reasons, Rick. At least, you pretended to.”
“I wasn’t pretending,” I answered quickly. “I really did agree with you. Hell, I still do, but that’s not where we are right now.”
“And where are we now?” Justin asked. “Besides up a creek without a paddle.
“We are at a place where your sister is going to bring herself down if it means saving Mike from coming to any harm,” I answered.
“One doesn’t have anything to do with the other, Rick,” Justin replied. “Aside from public opinion, which we all know bleeds into jury opinion, regardless of what a judge orders, there’s no connection between a young man’s drug charges and my sister’s murder trial.”
“Except if there is,” I said. “You said it yourself. Aside from Daphne, Mike is the prime suspect here. What do you think she’s going to do when she finds out that’s an angle we’re going to play? I’d be surprised if she didn’t confess right there in the courtroom.”
“Then we have to stop her,” Justin said. “We have to get her to see that her preoccupation with this kid isn’t in her best interest.”
“Preoccupation?” I asked, my forehead crinkling. �
��Justin, that’s her son. It’s her child; a child she didn’t get to know for the first eighteen years of his life. The interest in getting that time back makes a lot of sense to me.”
“Good,” Justin said. “Then you’ll be able to play that angle, because if we’re not going to be able to use Mike as an alternative suspect, then we’re going to have to make the jury sympathetic to Daphne.”
“That’s not going to be difficult, given all that she’s been through,” I answered. “There are four mothers on that jury. Three of them have sons. I’ll hit that hard. I’ll make sure they understand just how much pain she was in when she found out what happened to her, and hopefully a little bit of digging will uncover something else to put reasonable doubt into the minds of the jury.”
“And, if it doesn’t, then bringing Mike into all of this will only make it worse. It stops him from being a tool in our case and turns him into a weapon for the prosecution. You understand that, right?” Justin said.
“Of course, I do,” I replied. “Painting Mike as a bad guy, which won’t be difficult after his arrest comes to light, won’t be good for us if he’s seen as connected to Daphne.”
“There’s even a case to be made saying they might have been in cahoots with the murder,” Justin said, following that train of thought to its most intense conclusion.
“So, what are we supposed to do?” I asked, shaking my head. “Daphne will sacrifice herself if it looks like her son will go down for this. So, we can’t use him as an alternate suspect in any regard.”
“Then let’s use him for something else,” Justin said. “Go and talk to the kid. See how he plays in person. See if you can get a feel for how he’ll play on the stand. You say three of the jurors have sons. Well, I’m betting every one of them has a mother. Let’s see if we can hit that pain from both angles.”
“Alright,” I said, nodding and heading for the door.
