by Chad Zunker
“What’s your son’s name?”
This brought on a small smile. “Roger Junior. A beautiful little boy with a fighting spirit about him. Like his daddy.” The smile slowly faded. “Just wish my mother had been around to see my boy. She died when I was a kid.”
“My mother also died when I was young. What about your father?”
Rebel shrugged. “Never knew the man. He was long gone by the time I could walk and talk. After my mother died, I was mostly raised on my uncle’s ranch in Arkansas. My uncle never had any kids. He was a hard man but did the best he could with me. He died when I was serving over in Iraq. My uncle told me my father got stabbed to death in prison a few years after he’d left my mom.”
“I barely remember my father, too. He died in a car wreck when I was six.”
They shared a long stare, an exchange of both sorrow and understanding.
“Well, look at us, Lawyer. Two peas in a pod, you and me.”
“I guess so.”
“Only I’m sitting here locked up in chains, while you’re out there walking around a free man. I guess that’s the way the wind blows sometimes.”
David thought about that for a moment. He knew his life could’ve turned out more like the man sitting in front of him had his sister, Brandy, not been there for him as a safety net. After their mother’s unexpected death when he was a teenager, David had quickly spiraled down a path of self-destruction. Drugs, theft, fistfights. He would have likely ended up in a jail cell somewhere had his big sister not dropped out of college, moved back home, and dragged him kicking and screaming out of the gutter. He owed everything he was today to Brandy. David thought about what Jen, who had done advocacy work with the homeless, had told him last year: The single greatest cause of homelessness is a profound, catastrophic loss of family. That appeared to be a big part of Rebel’s tragic story. When the wheels came off, he did not have a big-sister safety net to catch his fall.
“You really buy that property I heard about?” Rebel asked him.
David raised an eyebrow, surprised. But then, he knew word got around out on the streets. “Yeah, I did. Twenty acres.”
“Whatcha doin’ with it?”
“Nothing at the moment.”
“Why?”
“I’m broke. It takes money to develop a big property like that.”
“Benny really wanted to build a village out there?”
“Yeah, he did. My plan is to follow through on it—someday.”
Rebel nodded. “Can I ask you a favor? In case I never get out of here.”
“Okay, what?”
“Find my dog and take care of him.” Rebel’s eyes began watering up, surprising David. “He’s probably out there cold, scared, and starving without me around. I need someone to look after him. He’s all I’ve got, Lawyer.”
“Where do I find him?”
“Over near Pease Park . . . Wait, he’s probably under the First Street Bridge . . . No, that ain’t right, either.” Rebel seemed to be racking his brain and getting frustrated, as if he couldn’t remember where exactly he’d been staying before all this happened to him. “He’s over by the South Shore Apartments . . . Wait . . . dammit!”
“Take it easy, Rebel. What’s your dog look like?”
“Just a mutt, kind of like me. Not much to him. Brown with a big white spot on his back that kind of looks like a star. He’s a sweet little thing, but he’ll tear your damn leg off you try to mess with me while I’m sleeping.”
“What’s your dog’s name?”
“Sandy—my father’s name.”
“I’ll do my best to find him.”
Checking his watch, David leaned forward on his elbows. It was getting late, so it was time to get serious again. He couldn’t sit there all night talking about the good old days or Rebel’s dog. It did no one any good to keep dragging this out.
“You have a hearing before a judge tomorrow, Rebel. That’s when the official charges will be brought against you. They’ll ask you how you want to plead to the charges—guilty, not guilty, or no contest.”
“What happens if I say I’m guilty?”
“They’ll probably give you life in prison without parole.”
“The dragon’s lair, you mean.”
“I guess.”
“And what happens if I say I’m not guilty?”
“You’ll go to trial.”
“And if I lose the trial?”
David swallowed, didn’t really want to answer that question. But Rebel seemed to read through his silence.
“I see. They stick me with the needle.” He sat all the way back in his chair, contemplating that. “Don’t seem like very good options to me.”
“It’s going to be a tough road either way.”
“Will you be there tomorrow?” Rebel asked.
“Do you want me to be there?”
Rebel shrugged. “You can’t be all bad if Benny liked you.”
David knew that was Rebel’s roundabout way of asking him to be his lawyer without having to directly say it. “What will you say to the judge tomorrow, Rebel?”
“You my lawyer?”
“Not yet.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to show up to find out.”
EIGHT
David slipped out a back exit of the jailhouse, just like he had the previous night. Although he hadn’t spotted any TV reporters standing outside the front door upon his arrival earlier, he still didn’t want to take any chances. Murphy’s death had been the lead story all day on the local news. He really didn’t want to deal with the media yet—or ever, for that matter. He still didn’t know what he was going to do about representing Rebel. The man seemed resigned to take whatever punishment was coming for him, even if that amounted to a confession. At this point, David wasn’t sure Rebel even knew whether he was guilty. There was so much misinformation stored inside his foggy head.
How could David defend someone like that? Especially if what Dana had told him earlier was true: that the DA would not be offering a plea deal and would fight tooth and nail against any type of insanity plea. As much as David empathized with the guy—especially now knowing they’d shared similar life tragedies—Dana was right. The whole thing felt like a no-win situation. Not to mention the negative financial impact it could have on the firm if David found himself completely tied up in this case the next few months instead of pursuing paying clients. He just couldn’t do that to Thomas. He knew he had to walk away from this thing.
David was ten paces down the sidewalk from the criminal justice complex when someone stepped out of the shadows right in front of him. He paused, a bit startled, stared at a woman in her twenties wearing blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a gray hoodie pulled way up over her head. She reminded him a bit of Jen—both had pretty green eyes. But this girl’s eyes were bouncing everywhere—behind David, over her own shoulder, left, right, and back again, as if she were paranoid as hell. Hands shoved deep inside the hoodie’s front pockets, she kept shifting her weight back and forth. David wondered if she was high on drugs or something.
“Are you the homeless guy’s lawyer?” she quietly asked him.
“You okay?” David asked.
“Are you his lawyer?” she repeated, ignoring his concern.
David played dumb. “What homeless guy?”
“The one they say murdered the prosecutor in the alley last night.”
David’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you?”
“No one.” She looked over her shoulder again.
“Then why’re you asking me about it?”
“I just . . . I don’t . . . I just need to know, okay?”
David wasn’t sure how she could’ve possibly known he was talking to Rebel, but he had no desire to stand there and chat with a stranger about a case that wasn’t even his at this point.
“Look, it’s late,” David said, brushing her off. “Have a good night, okay?”
He stepped around her, began walking away.
“The
re’s more to the story,” she said from behind him.
He stopped in his tracks, spun back around.
“More to what story?” he asked.
She shifted awkwardly. “With the homeless guy who was arrested.”
Now it was David’s turn to look around, wondering what the hell was going on. “What do you know about it?”
“Are you his lawyer?”
“Maybe. Who are you?”
“I told you, I’m no one.”
“Then what’s this all about?”
She crossed her arms, constantly fidgeting. “I can’t say . . . I don’t . . . I don’t know what to do.”
“If you know something, I need you to tell me right now. A man’s life could be on the line here.”
“So could mine!” she snapped back.
David saw a flash of anger in her eyes that took him off guard. “What do you mean?”
She exhaled, swallowed. “I saw him last night, okay?”
“Who?”
Their conversation was abruptly interrupted when a group of four uniformed officers walked up the sidewalk toward them from a county garage that sat directly across the street from the criminal justice complex. The sight of them approaching made the woman immediately shut down their exchange. She quickly sidestepped David and took off at a brisk pace up the sidewalk.
“Wait a second!” David called after her, took a few steps forward in pursuit. “Please talk to me. Who did you see?”
She didn’t stop. Instead, she began to run at a full sprint and disappeared around an adjacent building. David thought about chasing after her but decided against it. That might look odd to the police. Besides, she could just be another crazy person. The city was full of them. Still—something told him she wasn’t.
And that left his gut seriously churning.
Twenty minutes later, David gently knocked on the front door of a quaint one-story redbrick house on a nice neighborhood street in South Austin. Thomas answered right away in sweatpants and a T-shirt, stepped outside to join David on the sidewalk.
“Hope I didn’t wake the kids,” David offered.
“No chance. My girls sleep like logs once they’re finally out. Of course, it usually takes us an hour to get them to be still and go to sleep. What’s so urgent?”
“I need to talk to you about Rebel’s case.”
“Yeah, I figured. What about it?”
“Well, I was ready to drop it. Like we talked about. In spite of my desire to try to somehow help the guy. But then something just happened outside the county jail that has me reconsidering things.”
David went on to explain his bizarre interaction with the woman.
“She just ran away?” Thomas asked. “Why?”
“I wish I knew. But she was clearly spooked.”
“Who do you think she was talking about?”
David shrugged. “Rebel? Murphy? I can’t be sure.”
“Why are you taking her so seriously? She could be a whack job.”
“A gut feeling.”
Thomas sighed, shook his head. “Didn’t they teach you not to rely on gut feelings in law school? Your gut will get you into a lot of trouble, believe me.”
“I must’ve missed that day.”
“You really think the guy could somehow be innocent?”
“Before what just happened, I was ninety-nine percent sure he was guilty. Now, well, I’m a little less sure.”
“What if Rebel walks into that courtroom tomorrow and pleads guilty?”
“No harm, no foul. I’ll do my best to work out good prison terms for him, and we quickly move on with the business of the firm. But what if he pleads not guilty?”
“We’ll have a huge mess on our hands.”
“Look, Thomas, I would never do this without your blessing. I know how disruptive it could be right now for our firm. But something is pulling me into this. I can’t explain it.”
Thomas crossed his arms, stared out toward the street a long moment. Finally, he said, “Hell, we didn’t start this firm to play it safe. We’ll figure it out.”
David grinned. “You mean it?”
“Yes. Let’s just hope your stupid gut is right.”
NINE
Rebel’s court hearing was scheduled for eight the next morning in a small courtroom inside the criminal justice complex. Wearing a blue suit and tie and holding his briefcase, David waited until the very last minute to slip inside the building, which was buzzing with more energy than he’d seen over the past six months. A stable of TV reporters was lined up out front, hair and makeup perfect, microphones in hands, cameras rolling, a half dozen news channel trucks parked up and down the street. Inside, the courtroom was jam-packed with people, with several more photographers shooting video around the perimeter of the room. Although this was only a standard court hearing, like many throughout the day, it already had the feel of the trial of the year. Which caused more butterflies to flutter inside David’s stomach.
Squeezing into the back of the noisy courtroom, David looked around, wondered about all the other people who’d somehow found their way inside. He’d never seen most of them in the building. Up front, he spotted Neil Mason, the DA’s right-hand man, his thick head of sculpted black hair perfectly matching his sleek black suit. In his late forties, Mason had been with the DA’s office for more than ten years, where he’d tried and won several high-profile murder cases. At six-three, he had the build of a former linebacker and a South Texas drawl that seemed to play well with jurors. Most figured he was next in line for DA—if Jordan won the election next year and served out another term. David hadn’t had too much interaction with Mason—most of David’s clients were being prosecuted for low-level misdemeanors—but their few brief interactions had never left a good taste in his mouth. Mason seemed very comfortable with his reputation for being a pompous ass.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, David pushed his way through the small crowd at the back and made his way up to the front, where he set down his briefcase beside the defense table. He felt all eyes in the room lock in on him, including the fierce gaze of Mason. They exchanged a quick nod of recognition, like two boxers tapping gloves before round one.
The courtroom suddenly quieted as Judge Alison Marvis took her seat behind the bench. With curly gray hair and thick glasses, Judge Marvis was an experienced jurist who was known to be fair and considerate. She welcomed everyone, and the room quickly came to order. At that point, Mason brought the case before Judge Marvis, and Rebel, wearing the standard jail jumpsuit with his hands and feet both cuffed, was led into the courtroom from a side door by a buff bailiff who looked ready to put him in a choke hold at any moment. The bailiff shuffled him over in front of the judge’s bench before settling him right next to David. The homeless man looked over, seemed surprised. David had not taken the opportunity to meet with Rebel beforehand. There was really nothing more to say. He knew Rebel could tell him one thing in advance and then do the opposite in front of the judge. David figured he’d just let the hearing play out and go from there.
“You find my dog?” Rebel whispered.
David almost laughed. Not because he thought it was funny. The man was about to be charged with murder, and the first thing out of his mouth upon seeing his new lawyer was a question about his dog. It was a last-second reminder about the insanity David might be walking into by representing this guy.
“Not yet.”
“Why not? I’m worried sick.”
“I’ll look around today, okay? Now pay attention to the judge.”
Judge Marvis then read the official charges against Rebel. First-degree murder in the death of Lucas Murphy.
“How do you plead, Mr. North?” the judge asked Rebel.
It was the first time David had ever stood next to a client in a courtroom where he didn’t know what they’d actually say to the judge.
Rebel stood straighter, chest out. “Not guilty, Your Honor.”
David exhaled. He didn’t ev
en realize he’d been holding his breath. A sudden burst of adrenaline began coursing through him. Judge Marvis acknowledged Rebel’s plea for the court. David heard murmurs from the crowd. Everything just got serious.
David jumped back into the conversation. “Your Honor, we’d like to request bail. My client is not a flight risk.”
Mason quickly countered. “On the contrary, Your Honor, Mr. North is known as a drifter with a history of leaving town on a whim. Our doctors also believe he is dangerously unstable.”
“Denied, Mr. Adams,” the judge ruled, as expected.
“Thank you, Your Honor,” David replied.
David knew that bail was never going to be an option. Not that Rebel had any money to post it, anyway. But it was a formality for him to ask and advocate for his client. Judge Marvis ordered Rebel to remain locked up in the county facility while he awaited his next court date, which she set for two weeks away. She then touched down her gavel. The hearing was over, and even louder chatter began all around the courtroom again.
Rebel turned to him. “Why’d you come, Lawyer?”
“Maybe I’m as crazy as you.”
This brought on a small grin. “Two peas in a pod, you and me.”
“I’ll be in to see you soon, okay?”
“Well, I sure as hell ain’t going nowhere.”
The bailiff then led his client out of the courtroom by the same side door.
Grabbing his briefcase, David turned, faced Mason for the first time. Mason gave him a smug grin.
“Welcome to the big leagues, Mr. Adams. You sure you’re ready?”
“Nope. But I’ll be by your office this afternoon to discuss the case.”
“Make an appointment. I’m a very busy man.”
David then watched as Mason left the courtroom and walked straight into a wave of reporters in the hallway. David didn’t follow. Instead, he slipped out a side door and hoped to somehow navigate his way out of the building without talking to anyone. Smart or not, he was now all in on this case, so it was time to roll up his sleeves and get to work.
