by Dave Daren
“Now, like I said,” Travis Williams continued while I climbed the few flights of stairs and kept my breathing as even as possible. “I’ve reviewed your appeal, but I have no intention of changing my verdict. You can try to go to a different judge, but I’m a respected man around the courthouse, and no one is going to take your side of this sentencing. Camilo Fuentes should be sent to jail before he can become a monster like his father. That boy--”
“I wasn’t actually calling about Camilo,” I interrupted as I emerged from the stairwell into the hallway of my floor.
There was no one in the hallway since most of my neighbors worked early in the morning, and those who didn’t would be in their apartments. There was one nosy old woman that I knew who sometimes watched from her peephole, but she didn’t open the door when I passed so I suspected she was watching one of her soap operas.
I unlocked my door and stepped into the darkened entryway of my apartment. There were a few rays of light shining in through my closed blinds, but for the most part my home was still dark. I flipped on a light and glanced around with my usual apprehension since I’d found Alvaro waiting on my couch, but the giant second in command hadn’t made another appearance.
“Well, what in the hell do you want a meeting for if you’re not trying to get that little delinquent out?” the judge snapped after he’d taken a few more gulps of his drink. “And why would you submit an appeal if you don’t want him to be released?”
“Oh, I do want Camilo released,” I answered.
I kicked my shoes as far away from me as possible. I would need to clean them since I’d worn them without socks, but for the moment they would be fine as long as they were nowhere near me. I set the now empty coffee mug in my sink and then turned to fill a glass with the cool, filtered water I kept in my fridge.
“You just said that’s not why you were calling to set up a meeting,” the fat magistrate huffed. “Why don’t you get your damned story straight.”
“I want to meet to discuss the facility,” I replied before I downed the delicious water.
“Now what did I just say?” the old man grumbled. “I told you that the Everson Juvenile Detention Center takes care of its inmates. So don’t you come at me with those baseless accusations that they’re mistreating the little scumbags.”
I ran a hand over my face as I prepared myself. I was about to accuse the judge of accepting bribes to send the boys to the facility, which could ruin my career if it got out, but I knew what I had to do for my client, and for my employer.
“There are substantiated stories regarding how the center is really run,” I said. “But that isn’t the reason I’m calling, either.”
“Well, what else could you possibly want to talk about?” he snapped, and I thought I heard a note of apprehension in his voice.
“I thought we could meet and talk about the kickbacks you’ve been receiving for sending the boys there,” I said in a remarkably calm voice despite my racing pulse.
The line went quiet. I almost thought that he’d hung up on me and that I would have to call back, but then I heard the fat man’s labored breathing. He spluttered a few times like he was about to start screaming into the phone, and I hoped that he would be smart enough not to shout about the kickbacks in his office. Finally, he took a deep breath in and let it out as if he had realized that he was cornered.
“Fine,” the judge muttered so low I almost didn’t hear him. “Pick a time and a place, and I’ll be there.”
I heard the click as he hung up, and then I found myself standing in the middle of my apartment staring at the wall. Somehow, I’d convinced the corrupt judge to meet with me. I’d won the argument and would soon be able to have Camilo released.
But that was only if the judge was smart enough to accept Osvaldo’s offer.
Chapter 20
“That was fast,” Judge Travis Williams huffed as he answered his office phone.
“I didn’t want to waste your time,” I said as I stared out of my apartment window to the alleyway below. “You’re a busy man. I’m sure you have a lot of trials to oversee today.”
“I do,” the corrupt magistrate responded in a tight voice. “So when and where is this meeting?”
“Your house,” I told him. “This afternoon after you’re finished with court. Let’s say six p.m..”
“My wife and son will be home then,” he growled.
“So make sure that they’re out for the evening,” I replied with a shrug that he couldn’t see. “Or that they’re in another part of the house. Your house is large enough for a private office. And I doubt you want them to understand what kind of man you are.”
“Fine,” the man huffed, and I could almost picture the large man’s face turning bright red with rage. “Six o’clock. I assume you already have my address?”
“I do,” I said. “I’ll see you at six.”
There was a loud bang as the old magistrate slammed his office phone down on his receiver, and I looked at my cell phone like the force would’ve damaged my device. I shook my head, though I could understand why he was so angry. His corruption had been discovered, and the life he’d built for himself was in jeopardy. If I didn’t despise what he’d done so much, then I might actually feel sorry for him.
I looked back out into the alley as I calmed my racing heart. I’d managed to keep my composure while I was on the phone, but it was the first time that I’d set up a meeting with the sole purpose of blackmailing someone. Though, if I was honest, I had convinced plenty of DAs and other lawyers to see things my way, and convincing the judge to work with my employer wouldn’t be that different.
There was still another phone call I had to make, so I pulled myself out of my moral dilemma and dialed the number.
“Did he agree?” Alvaro’s soft, deep voice asked as soon as he answered.
“Yes,” I replied. “We’ll meet him at his house at six p.m. tonight. His family will probably be at the house, but we’ll be in his office so they won’t overhear anything.”
“Good,” the second in command. “I’ll pick you up at 5:30. Be ready.”
The intimidating man hung up before I could respond, and I sighed as I stared at the suddenly black screen of my cell phone. I had the entire day to myself, but all of the cases for Osvaldo had been wrapped up except for Camilo, and his release would be dealt with soon enough.
Still, I hadn’t seen the young teen in a few days, and I wanted to check in with him because he’d been so pale and withdrawn the last time I’d seen him. I dialed the number for the Everson Juvenile Detention Center and went through the answering service until I finally reached someone who could get me an appointment with my client.
“Hello?” a woman with a slight New Jersey accent said as she picked up the line.
“Good morning,” I said in as friendly a tone as I could manage. “My name is Roberto Torres. I’m the attorney for Camilo Fuentes. I would like to see him this afternoon.”
“Camilo Fuentes,” the woman muttered.
I could hear her nails click along a keyboard while she popped a piece of gum in her mouth. She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat, and then the sound of clicking continued.
“Alright,” she continued after a few minutes. “So your client is in solitary confinement right now. Which means that you can’t see him.”
“Solitary confinement?” I asked as my stomach turned sour.
If the facility knew that I was investigating them, and that I’d found enough to shut them down, then they might take it out on the teen. I could only imagine the terrible things they would do to him in vengeance, and my blood began to boil with hatred for the corrupt juvenile center.
“Yeah,” the Jersey woman responded before she popped a bubble into her phone’s microphone. “Looks like he got mouthy. He’ll be out in a few days. You can see him then.”
“I’ll see him tomorrow,” I told her. “And I will also be reviewing any trips he’s made to the doctor. If I find
one bruise on that boy, then you’ll have a lawsuit on your hands.”
“Sure, sure,” the woman responded. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. He’s just fine. I’ll see what I can do about putting you on the books for tomorrow afternoon.”
“You will schedule an appointment,” I demanded as I gripped the cell phone a little tighter. “And make sure to have two more visitor’s passes ready, because I will be bringing his father and a physician to make sure there were no accidents.”
“Whatever you say,” she said, but her voice seemed a little less flippant than it had a moment before. “But I can’t guarantee that you’ll have a private place for your doc to take a look at him.”
“I’m sure you’ll work something out,” I said. “Have a nice day. Oh, and make sure that appointment is no later than ten a.m..”
I hung up the phone and then threw it onto my mattress. I wanted to scream, but the neighbors would probably call the cops, and I didn’t want to give the judge an opportunity to send one of his corrupt officers to my apartment.
It was already too hot for me to go for a run, but I needed to let off some steam. I had no doubt that the wiry guard I’d seen with Camilo in my last visit would have struck the teen if he thought he was being disrespected, and the other guards were probably no different. I was tempted to go see him now and demand to see my client, but I told myself to wait until we could bring him good news.
A text came in from the Everson Juvenile Detention Center with the confirmation for my appointment with Camilo at nine a.m. the next day, and I let out a sigh of relief. The facility would’ve tried to put off my visit if Camilo had actually been injured, especially with my promise to bring a physician, but he couldn’t be too bad if they didn’t try to call and push back my visit. On the other hand, they had an entire day to clean up their mess, or inflict other injuries on my client, so I wouldn’t feel better until I was at the center’s door.
I looked around my apartment, but it was still clean, and so I didn’t have much that could help me release some of my pent up anger. I debated a visit to my mother, but my ama could always tell when something was bothering me, and I wouldn’t be able to tell her anything about my current situation.
Instead, I stripped out of my dirty clothes from the night before, set my alarm for four p.m., and climbed back into bed. I wouldn’t sleep that late, but it had been a rough few days, and the extra sleep might be exactly what I needed to help me control my emotions.
It felt like there was sand in my eyes as my alarm went off, my head was heavy with the fog of sleep, and I looked around my apartment as I tried to remember where I was. I dismissed the blaring alarm then scooted out of bed as I shook my head and tried to wake myself up.
The remnants of slumber began to fade away, but I still stumbled on my area rug as I trudged into the bathroom. I turned on a cold shower and then hopped in to let the icy water rush over me, and I sucked in a breath as I woke up the rest of the way.
I washed my hair, styled it, and then ran a razor over the stubble that had started to grow back in before I strolled back into the only real room of my studio apartment in search of my glasses. I’d put them on the side table, but they were dirty when I slipped them on my face, and I had to search the drawer of the nightstand for the lens wipes that I kept there.
Once I could actually see, I meandered over to the closet in search of something to wear. I didn’t have much closet space, I wouldn’t even be able to fit into it if someone broke in and I needed to hide, but I’d managed to squeeze five suits inside. I searched for the pure black, since it would give me an edge of mystery and danger, and I paired it with a dark-red button up and black tie.
It was almost time to meet Alvaro downstairs, so I put on my socks and black dress shoes, and then I looked into the mirror to make sure that I had achieved my goal of looking intimidating. I wasn’t as terrifying as Alvaro or Osvaldo, but I did look a bit more sinister than I did when I wore my usual gray suit.
I grabbed my briefcase, cell phone, wallet, and keys, and then I headed out to meet the second in command outside of my apartment building. I chose to take the elevator instead of the stairs so that I didn’t start to sweat, and soon I was strolling through the lobby toward the street.
“You look sharp,” Alvaro said from the black SUV that was parked next to my ancient blue Honda.
His almost black eyes swept over me as he nodded his head in approval. The movement made the bottom of his wavy brown hair bounce around his shoulders, and his dimples flashed for a second as he smiled.
“Thank you,” I said with a smile as I pulled open the front passenger door. “I thought I would take a page from your book and wear mostly black.”
“I wear black so that you can’t see the blood,” the tall man said in his soft voice as I buckled in.
“Oh,” I muttered while I tried to hide the pulse of fear that shot through me. “That makes sense.”
I waved at our beefy driver as I sat back in my seat and looked forward. I thought I heard the choking sound that I’d identified as Alvaro’s laughter, and I rolled my eyes at myself for having been scared. I knew that he hadn’t been joking about why he wore black, but I wasn’t in danger at the moment, and if I was going to work with the man, I needed to be less afraid of every movement he made.
“We should be at the judge’s house in half an hour,” our driver said as he pulled onto the highway.
“Great,” I said. “He should be there when we arrive.”
“He better be,” Alvaro muttered.
I hoped for the judge’s sake that he was at his house, ready, and waiting for us to show up.
The drive was quiet as we flew down the highway to the outskirts of the city, and soon we had pulled into the waterfront subdivision where the judge’s house was located. The houses were all made out of a beautiful white stone that reflected the late afternoon light, and each property boasted a bright green lawn with varying tropical plants and rose bushes in an impressive display of gardening prowess.
The judge’s house was a two story colonial mansion that was made of the same white stone as every other house, with black shutters on the windows, and a bright red door that peeked out between massive columns. There was a carport and a two car garage to the right of the house where a dark-red Nissan Rogue sat under the covering, and a black Mustang was visible through the opened garage door.
Our driver parked beside the Nissan Rogue, shut off the ignition, and then waited for Alvaro and I to climb out before he rolled down his window and lit a cigarette.
“We shouldn’t be more than an hour,” Alvaro informed the man as we walked around the side of our black SUV.
“Sure thing,” the driver responded with a nod.
“Are you ready, Jipato?” the second in command asked me with his usual smirk.
I sighed, but the nickname our boss had given me seemed to have stuck. At least it reminded me of my father, so it wasn’t all that bad.
“Let’s do this,” I replied and then led the tall shadow man to the front door.
A young woman in a pale blue maid’s outfit answered the door. She had pale skin and bright blue eyes, an angular nose and jaw, and dark brown hair that she’d pulled up into a bun.
“May I help you?” she asked in a thick Eastern European accent.
“We have an appointment with Judge Williams,” I said with a bright smile.
“Ah, yes,” she muttered as she stepped aside and motioned for us to come in. “The judge will see you in his office. Follow me.”
The petite woman led us through the marble-floored hallways with it’s high ceiling and dark maple wood tables. She passed heavy wooden doors with golden handles, and a large gilded mirror that reflected a massive open kitchen with shiny chrome equipment and pure white cabinets.
“Mr. Williams?” the woman asked through a shut door as she knocked. “Your guests are here.”
“Send them in,” the magistrate huffed.
She stepped int
o the office to hold open the door for us and then quietly shut it behind her as she left us in the private room. It was exactly what I thought it would be with heavy, dark wood bookshelves that were filled with leatherbound books. There were two brown leather chairs on our side of the mahogany desk, and a matching swivel chair on the other side where the judge sat.
He was backlit by the arched window behind him, but the scowl on his face was still clearly visible. He was in a dark blue polo instead of the button up he wore at the courthouse, and he seemed to take up the entire space behind the desk with his large body.
“I thought it would just be you,” the fat man accused as I crossed the office and sat in one of the chairs without invitation.
“I am here to represent Mr. Fuentes,” Alvaro answered for me as he took the other chair.
The tall man crossed one leg over the other, but he still seemed to take up the entire room with his presence as he stared at the judge with his almost black eyes.
“Of course you are,” the judge snarled at Alvaro before he turned his attention to me. “So what is it that you think you found?”
“I have found a substantial amount of evidence that proves that you’ve been accepting bribes to send children to jail,” I explained. “Now, my initial reaction was to take all of this information to the DA. But, I’d rather not ruin everything that you’ve built over a simple mistake.”
I gestured around the room and it’s expensive furnishings. I had the urge to wipe my sweaty palms on my pants but resisted at the last second. I had to be calm and unfazed, like I was presenting my arguments in a courtroom, even if we were in the judge’s private residence.
“A mistake,” the old magistrate said as he narrowed his eyes.
“Of course,” I grinned. “This can still all be fixed.”
“How so?” the opportunistic man asked.
“First,” I started as I shifted in my seat so that I sat with my back straight. “You will have Camilo and his friend resentenced. We both know they didn’t deserve such a long stay at Everson.”
