by Carsen Taite
*
Morgan was startled by the ringing of the hotel phone. Other than Yolanda, the only person to call her at the hotel was Tina. Just this week, she’d stopped having the operator screen her calls once it became apparent Tina had resigned herself to their failed relationship. It had been two weeks since she’d run into Parker at the Burke vigil. Their encounters in class had been strictly professional. However, in the late-night hours, she had been able to think of little else besides Parker’s tight, beautiful body coiled around hers. As she reached for the phone, she thought maybe.
“This is Morgan.”
“Morgan, how the hell are you?”
Morgan instantly recognized the voice of Ford Rupley, though she hadn’t talked to him in almost a year. Her initial disappointment faded into happiness of a different sort. Ford Rupley was the deputy chief public defender of Dallas County. He and Morgan had attended law school together. She felt bad she hadn’t contacted Ford since her return to Dallas. She kept meaning to, but it seemed the details of all her current life changes kept getting in the way of reconnecting with her past. “Ford! Sweetie! It’s so good to hear your voice.”
“Are you sure? I haven’t heard from you since you got back to town.” His tone was teasing, but Morgan recognized a shade of hurt beneath the surface.
“I’m still reeling from all the changes. I have a lot to report. Let’s have dinner this week and catch up. My treat. Are you still at the PD’s office?”
“How about dinner tonight, my treat?”
Morgan glanced down at her attire. She had planned on a cozy date with the room service menu and was dressed appropriately in silk pajamas. Much as she would have liked to catch up with Ford over dinner, she decided to gracefully postpone. She started to turn him down but was distracted by loud yelling on the other end of the phone and asked, “Where are you?”
“Lew Sterrett. Can you meet me down here?” Though it had been a while, Morgan still recalled the reference. Ford was at the Dallas County Jail.
“What the hell? You’re inviting me to dine at the jail cafeteria?”
“There’s someone here I want you to meet. We’ll eat after. Seriously, Morgan, I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.”
The excited pleading in his voice triggered Morgan to react the way she always did at the prospect of taking on a new venture. Curiosity battled comfort and won. “Give me thirty minutes. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
*
The drive downtown was quick and easy since rush hour was long over. The Lew Sterrett Justice Center was located just west of downtown, directly behind the Frank Crowley Criminal Courthouse, and was the headquarters of the Dallas County jail system. As a young attorney, Morgan had logged many hours in both of these buildings. She parked in the open lot across the street from the jail and walked through the courtyard separating the jail from the courthouse. Ford was waiting outside.
“Morgan, you look fantastic! Thanks for coming.”
“I assume at some point before I turn into a pumpkin, you’ll let me know why you summoned me.”
“Let’s sit for a minute.” Ford pointed to a low stone wall. “I want to talk to you about a very interesting case.”
“And this case must be dealt with under dark of night?”
“I’m in the middle of a capital case. This is the only time I could meet with him. I want you to work with me on his case.”
“Back up, mister. You’re still at the PD’s office, correct?” At Ford’s nod, she continued her questions. “And I assume you’ve been appointed to work on this case?”
“Correct, Counselor. Now before you start lecturing me about your standard hourly rate, all I’m asking you to do is meet the guy and hear his story. Whatever you decide after you meet him is completely up to you.”
Morgan knew it wouldn’t be so simple. Once you knew names and faces, the intrigue got under your skin. She let several seconds tick away before deciding it already had. “Okay, what the hell else do I have to do at midnight on a Wednesday night?”
“Terrific. We don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll hit the highlights and you can pick up the rest as we go.” In his traditional manner, Ford buzzed through the details. Toward the end, Morgan felt her head spinning as she tried to keep up.
“Luis Chavez, he’s our client, was the trusted handyman for the Burke family.” He paused while Morgan nodded at the familiar Highland Park name. “Camille Burke, beloved daughter, was found in her room with a gaping hole in the middle of her face, and Luis Chavez was standing over the body. Instead of waiting around to answer questions, Luis took off and hid out for a few weeks until a concerned citizen reported his location to the police. He was arrested last night. Turns out he has a record. Despite his checkered past, he’s always been a great employee and he’s worked for the Burkes for years.”
“What’s his sheet look like?”
“One felony conviction. Drug case. Possession.”
“Have you met him?”
“Yes. About an hour ago.”
“What does he have to say about all this?”
“Not much. He didn’t kill her. Doesn’t know who did.”
“Lovely. Looks like you have your hands full. You’ll be lucky to get a plea offer of any kind on a case involving the Burkes.”
“Yeah, you’re right. The odds are stacked against us.” Ford looked down at his shoes.
“I guess there aren’t any other witnesses?”
“I only had a moment this afternoon to glance at the police report, but it appears Camille’s brother, Teddy Burke, saw Luis standing in a pool of blood next to Camille’s freshly dead body. When Luis saw Teddy, he took off running.”
“That’s not great.”
“True. It’s probably a hopeless case. I should pass it off to one of my assistants.” Ford shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
Morgan knew she was being played, but she couldn’t resist the challenge of impossible odds. “I don’t have my bar card with me.” The card, issued by the state bar, was required in order to transact business at the jail and the courthouse.
Ford grinned. “I can get you in.”
*
“Sour,” “dank,” and “nasty” were the first words that came to Morgan’s mind as she sat on the edge of a plastic chair Ford had dragged into the visitor booth. Ford occupied the round metal seat permanently affixed to the floor in what was certainly an ergonomically incorrect position in relation to the phone secured to the wall. While they waited for the deputies to escort Luis to the other side of the booth, Morgan tried to guess how many years had gone by since the county had decided to forgo simple tasks like cleaning. At this point, it would take a sandblaster to make a dent in the layers of grime that had been allowed to form on the walls, the floor, and the counter, and no doubt such extreme measures had not been included in the budget. As a result, the entire jail was rank and Morgan tried her best to avoid touching anything she didn’t have to.
After what seemed like forever, a small Hispanic man entered the booth, on the other side of the Plexiglas. Nodding to Ford, he picked up the phone on his side and said hello.
“Hello, Luis. I came back because I want you to meet a colleague of mine.” Ford waved a hand in Morgan’s direction. “Her name is Morgan Bradley. She’s an attorney and I want you to talk to her about what happened.” Ford started to hand the phone to Morgan, but Luis asked him to wait.
“Is she the prosecutor?”
“No. She’s a friend of mine, a lawyer. I may want her to help me on your case. Tell her what you told me.” Ford indicated to Morgan they should switch seats. Morgan barely had the phone in her hand before Luis started speaking.
“I didn’t kill her.”
“I didn’t ask, but thanks for letting me know that.” Morgan met Luis’s pleading eyes. “Tell me why you think you were arrested.”
“I don’t know.” Luis sounded dejected. “I was downstairs, fixing a leak in one of the bathrooms. I heard a noise, li
ke a gun, from above. I went upstairs to check.”
Morgan urged him on. “What happened next?”
“I saw her. Miss Camille. She was lying on the floor.”
“Was she dead?”
“I don’t know. I guess.” Luis’s squeezed his eyes shut as if to shut out the memory. “There was blood everywhere.”
“Did you see anyone else?”
“No. Not then. I saw a gun. I picked it up.”
“Why did you pick up the gun, Luis?”
“I was scared. Whoever shot her might come back.”
His tone was defensive and Morgan decided to leave the “why” questions for later and stick to the basic facts. “Then what happened?”
“Mr. Burke, he saw me.”
“Where was he?”
“In the door. He looked at the gun in my hand, then he looked at me.”
“What happened next?”
“I threw the gun down and I ran.” As if anticipating Morgan’s next question, he continued. “I was scared. I didn’t know what else to do. I hid at a friend’s house. They came and got me last night.”
Morgan didn’t need to ask to know that “they” was probably the police. “Did they ask you questions when they arrested you?”
“Yes. I told them what I’m telling you. They didn’t care.”
She didn’t see any point in asking him more questions, especially since she didn’t have the benefit of knowing the exact proof that would need to be refuted. Morgan offered what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. “No, I don’t imagine they did. I can tell you this, Luis, you have a very good attorney. Mr. Rupley will do his best to fight the charge against you.”
“What about you? Will you help me?”
Morgan shot Ford a pointed look before meeting Luis’s pleading eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.”
*
“How can you eat so much this late at night?”
“It’s not late, it’s early.” Ford grabbed a fistful of fries off Morgan’s plate to replace his own, which had been consumed within seconds of reaching the table. “Besides, I need my energy if we’re going to get right to work.” He grinned.
“I have class in the morning. You, by all means, should burn the midnight oil on behalf of your client. Let me know how it turns out.”
His expression was pained. “Wait a minute. I was sure I had you interested enough to work with me on this one. You practically promised Luis you would work on his case.”
“I did no such thing. Besides, you boxed me in a corner. What was I supposed to say to the guy?”
“Come on, Morgan. Admit it. You’d love to work with me again.”
Ignoring his remark, Morgan asked, “Was there a statement in the police report from Teddy Burke?”
“I don’t know yet. I’ve been in trial all day and I just got the summary of the report.”
“Luis said he was working on the downstairs bathroom. Surely there would have been tools lying around.”
“We’ll have to check the police report to see if they checked. Or talk to other employees in the house at the time to see what they remember.”
“What in the world do they think his motive was?”
“That’s a good question.”
“Who’s the prosecutor?”
“Not sure. The case is in Judge Thompson’s court, but I don’t think it’s been assigned yet. With a victim from the Burke family, I wouldn’t be surprised if the elected DA gets involved.” As if he could tell Morgan’s resistance was fading, he pressed on. “I heard you’re single now. Some extra work would be good for you. Maybe you could make some new friends.” Ford placed extra emphasis on the word “friends.”
“Make up your mind. Either I’m the fierce advocate battling law enforcement or the passion-hungry schoolteacher looking for a good time. I don’t have the energy for both.” Even as she spoke the words, she could feel herself giving in.
“Well, when you put it that way…” Ford’s attention returned to his plate, but a moment later, he used his fork to wave a Eureka! in the air. “Actually, I’ve got a great idea. What if you could be a fierce advocate and a schoolteacher? I mean, what if we formed a defense team using the top students in your Advanced Evidence class? What better scenarios could you come up with than the real thing? You’d get to work on this case and your students would get real-life experience. Mr. Chavez would get a kick-ass defense. Justice for all!”
“No more coffee for you. Seriously, Ford. I have no idea if I could get permission to run a clinic as part of my class, let alone figure out how to fit it into the schedule. I would certainly need to run it by Yolanda.” Even as she spoke, Morgan’s thoughts belied her words. Something about this particular case intrigued her. She reflected on the vigil for Camille Burke she had happened upon earlier. All those students, gathered to mourn a life cut short. The crowd at the makeshift memorial was small in comparison to the number of voices that would cry out for vengeance when Luis went on trial. Maybe it was the challenge of turning a lost cause into a victory that captured her attention. Whatever it was, she was already casting a trial team from the students in her class and, knowing Parker had to be a part, wondering how in the world they would work together.
Ford shook a French fry in her direction and she set her thoughts of Parker aside to turn her attention back to him. “Yes?”
“I know you want to work on this case with me. I can see the gleam in your eyes. Will you at least ask Yolanda?”
“Was there ever any doubt?”
Chapter Eight
“Is she in?” Morgan asked.
Edith nodded. “Go on back, she’s never too busy for you.”
Yolanda was on the phone, so Morgan waited in the doorway of Yolanda’s office and considered her approach. She was prepared for some resistance, considering the Burkes’ generosity, but she had prepared a courtroom-worthy argument in favor of taking the Luis Chavez case, complete with an outline of the constitutional implications. She was ready to pitch her case when Yolanda finished up her phone call and waved her in.
“Thanks for giving me an excuse to get off the phone.” Yolanda looked closely at her. “You look like you want something. Finally decide your office isn’t big enough?”
“No, my office is fine. I was thinking it needs more in it, though.”
Yolanda looked puzzled and then smiled. “Want to go shopping for furniture? Please, take me away for an afternoon!”
“No, dear. I was thinking I miss work, the excitement of the courtroom.”
“Am I losing you already? We’re not even to midterms. Seriously, Morgan, what can I do to convince you to stay?”
“Oh, I’d be happy to stay. I want to work on a project, though. I can fit it in with my class. Give them some real-life experience. I could even pick the best of the lot to be on a trial team if you’d approve me to work a small clinic practice for extra credit hours.”
“Perfect use of your skills and a great experience for your students. Where do I sign?”
“Don’t you want to know more about the project?”
“Unless you’re representing the KKK, I think we’re safe.” Yolanda looked closely at Morgan’s face. “It isn’t the KKK, is it? Now, don’t give me a spiel about freedom of speech—”
Morgan interrupted her. “No, it’s an indigent client. I’d be working with his public defender, Ford Rupley. The client’s name is Luis Chavez.” Morgan watched Yolanda’s furrowed brow, knowing she was trying to place the name. She decided to help her out.
“He’s the Burkes’ handyman. He’s charged with the murder of Camille Burke.” Morgan winced at Yolanda’s sharp intake of breath. “Now, before you say anything, I know the Burkes have been very generous to this university.”
“Complete understatement. They’re campus darlings. Lester Burke will have a coronary when he finds out the students whose education he helped fund are defending his baby girl’s killer.”
Morgan was poised and ready. “So the people with
the money are the only ones who should reap the benefits of a good defense? And whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty? He’s not a killer until a jury says he is—wait, did you say ‘defending’? You mean you’ll let me do this?”
Yolanda’s expression was neutral. “Will you stay the year?”
“Is that a bribe?”
Yolanda smiled. “Bribery? No. Coercion, maybe. This project will require a great deal of spin on my part, but I’m already working it out in my head. Why have great teacher talent if we can’t use it? This demonstrates our commitment to equality. Of course, I’ll have to impose a few conditions.”
Morgan sighed. She knew there would be a catch.
“Pick your top three students. They can be your trial team. The rest of the class can work on issues related to the case—motion filings, etc. Oh, and Gerald Lopez has to be one of the top three.”
“You’re kidding, right? Gerald is an idiot. He couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag, let alone be able to navigate a courtroom. I don’t even know why he’s in my class. He’ll never make it as a trial lawyer.”
“Cool your jets, hotshot. I happen to agree with you. But Gerald’s daddy is a big donor. Not a Lester Burke–size donor, but big nevertheless. If we can make him happy by giving his baby boy a chance to show off in court, I can fade some of the heat I’ll get from the trustees about Burke.”
“You drive a hard bargain. Maybe you should get back into private practice. Fine, it’s a deal. Now, I’m leaving before you tack on any more conditions.” Morgan turned as she walked through the doorway. “Oh, Yolanda?”
“Yes?”
“I would’ve agreed to stay two years.”
*
An hour later, Morgan sat in her office pondering the best way to approach this project with her students. Part of her wanted to use her autocratic power and select the students she wanted to work with. Her bargain with Yolanda meant she only had two slots to work with, and Dex and Parker topped the list. Both older students, they possessed a unique perspective, and there was no question they were the top of their class. But Morgan knew she couldn’t pick Parker, not without a process.
