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2236 Words
Brandon strolled off the elevator and headed for his new office with a Starbucks coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag with bagels in the other. He said hello to those he passed. It was early, but he was happy. He rounded the corner to his office and walked past the secretary pool where his secretary Janine was arguing with a young Asian woman who seemed rather worked up.
Both women saw him, and the excited Asian woman rushed him. “Oh, Sir please, you have to see me.”
“You don’t have an appointment,” Janine growled. “She doesn’t have an appointment.” She said again this time addressing him. Janine was a big girl a bit on the tubby side but very good at her job. She was at least in her forties with short blond hair and thick-rimmed glasses. She was a nice enough woman, but she got testy when things didn’t go by the book.
“Please Sir, you must see me.” The young woman begged.
“I’m calling security,” Janine said heading back to her desk.
“No Janine, it’s ok I have a few minutes, I’ll see her.” He said opening the door to his office and going inside. “Please take a seat Miss…?”
“Lee, Naomi Lee.” She said as he shut the door behind her.
She was a small woman very trim, very thin, but not in an unhealthy way. Her hips were narrow, and her waist was small, her breasts were small, and her legs were long. She looked like his mother in a way; he would bet his fortune she was a dancer. She was a stunning woman; her hair was long and shimmered like stars sparkling in the clear night sky. Her face was round, and her features were soft, her skin looked like fine china, and her eyes were deep, dark, and soulful.
Brandon placed his breakfast on his desk and took a seat leaning back relaxed and confident. “Miss. Lee, you have ten minutes of my time before I have another appointment. What can I do for you?”
“I need a lawyer.” She said.
“Yes, I assumed that since this is a law office. Why don’t you tell me how you heard of me?”
“You and your partners dined in my family’s restaurant last night. You left your card behind.” He had thought she looked familiar; she was the waitress.
“Ok, tell me why you think you need a lawyer?”
“It’s not for me. It’s for my brother. He’s been arrested, but he’s innocent. He’s in a lot of trouble, and the lawyer the court-appointed doesn’t seem qualified, and he doesn’t seem like he cares what happens.” She explained.
“What is your brother accused of?”
“The police are saying he raped and murdered a girl, but you see it’s not possible. Kobee doesn’t have a violent bone in his body.”
“What evidence do they have? I mean they didn’t just pick his name out of a hat. They must have something that incriminates him.” Brandon couldn’t believe the police would railroad some guy.
Though most folks who had loved ones in trouble always wished to believe that their loved ones were innocent, that the police had the wrong guy or were setting them up, the truth of the matter was the majority of the time the cops were doing their jobs and following the evidence. Sure, dirty cops and setups happened on TV and in the movies all the time, but in reality, most cops were good honest, hard-working individuals just trying to do the right thing. People liked to demonize the police when it was their loved ones hanging in the balance, but despite their unwavering belief in their loved one’s innocents, they were usually guilty.
But someone had to represent the guilty, Brandon believed in justice and the only way for justice to work it had to be fair. The constitution stated that everyone was entitled to their day in court and the best possible defence. People always whined about how crooks had more rights than their victims. He hated to admit it, but sometimes they were right. Good lawyers knew how to manipulate the system to their agendas.
Brandon was a good a lawyer. But he didn’t want to manipulate the system; he wanted to protect it, to see it work as it should and for that to happen both sides had to get a fair shake. That’s why he majored in criminal law, why he decided to become a defence attorney. Sure, people considered defence lawyers to be scum. Defending criminals didn’t make lawyers popular, but it was better to see ten guilty men go free than to incarcerate one innocent. At least that was the point.
It was funny how people thought of defence attorneys. They were lowlifes, but their tune always changed when they were the ones wearing the handcuffs. Suddenly they wanted the best; they wanted a bulldog to charge in and save them from the consequences of their actions.
Miss. Lee bit her bottom lip like she couldn’t decide what to tell him. Like she knew something, but she didn’t want to make her brother’s situation worse. “Well, he’s been running with a bad crowd lately. He’s been hanging out with a gang called the Black Dragons. I suspect he’s been selling drugs.” She confessed. “But he’s not a bad kid; he’s not capable of rape or murder let alone both. He doesn’t have a violent bone in his body.”
A narcotics charge didn’t necessarily make the leap to murder. Though once one broke one law, it was a slippery slope that often led to other crimes. He didn’t know whether or not her brother was or wasn’t guilty and he didn’t have the time to find out. Brandon couldn’t take the case. Not because he didn’t think she could afford his fee, which he didn’t, but because this was a murder case and he was fresh out of the classroom.
He had hoped to cut his teeth on something simple, some armed robberies and maybe embezzlement, but murder was too much for his first case. It was like jumping in the deep end with both feet. “Well it defiantly sounds like you need a lawyer, but I can’t help you. If you leave your name and number with my assistant, I can refer you to another lawyer.”
“Why not you?” She asked.
“Honestly, you can’t afford me.”
“We can pay. We will find a way to pay. We can open the restaurant for longer, or I can take a second job, we will all get second jobs to pay you.” She promised.
“I can’t.”
“You can eat for free at the restaurant for the rest of your life. I’ll clean your car. I’ll clean your house. Please, I will do anything, absolutely anything.”
“I can’t help you. I’m sorry the best I can do is refer you to someone cheaper. Someone competent-”
“He doesn’t need competent, he needs good. He needs someone that cares how the trial turns out. He needs someone to fight for him. Someone good and you’re good. I know you are. I’ve seen your car; it’s very expensive; so, you must be very good.”
Now he understood why she came to him. It was the car. It gave her the illusion that he was successful. He didn’t feel like explaining that he had never actually had a case. He saw no point in it. He also saw no point in trying to explain his wealth or his family dynamics. It wasn’t any of her business.
“I can’t help you.” He said again. It wasn’t that he cared about the money, but his employers did. They wouldn’t like him taking on a case where they couldn’t collect from the client.
Miss. Lee scooted to the edge of her seat and placed both hands on the edge of his desk. Her dark eyes were big and pleading, he could see the tears welling up. She was getting very emotional. Her devotion to her brother was touching. “Please reconsider. He’s only seventeen. They’ve sent him to Rikers with all those dangerous criminals. They’re going to eat him alive. If he gets convicted, they’re going to give him the death penalty.”
“That’s not for certain.” He said trying to alleviate her fears. The truth was Brandon knew the DA, and he was known for swatting flies with tanks. He would without doubt demand the death penalty, hell he’d put the needle in the poor kid’s arm himself.
“He’s going to die.”
“I appreciate your situation, but I can’t help you, the best I can do is give you a referral. That’s all I can do. Just leave your information with Janine. I’m sorry.” He said. He genuinely wished he could help her but he couldn’t.
Miss. Lee’s head slightly nodded as she accepted his answer. A tear streamed down her cheek as she rose to her feet and slowly left his office. Brandon closed his eyes and relaxed back in his chair. He felt positively wretched. She left him feeling guilty, but there was nothing he could do.
Brandon went about his day Miss. Lee in the back of his mind the whole time. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. He felt terrible. He sat at his desk long after business hours tapping his pen on his desk and thinking. He was warring with his conscience. He flipped through his rolodex considering who to refer Miss. Lee’s case too but something stopped him from picking up the phone.
He could hear his father’s voice in the back of his mind, telling him that wealth is a privilege; that those who had it should be grateful and show gratitude. Those who had much had reasonability to help those who had nothing. Charity was not a tax-exempt donation to a foundation. Charity was one random act of kindness that could change someone’s whole world. It was giving of oneself.
He couldn’t decide what to do. Who did he hand the case too? It was eating at him, what he could do and what he should do. What his employers expected and what he expected of himself. He was just four months out of the classroom, and already he had a moral dilemma. Did he do what was right or did he compromise his integrity to satisfy his employers?
He thought about his parents and what they would expect from him. What would make them proud of him? He thought about how they raised him and his brothers. About the number of times, his mother went out of her way to help people, total strangers, people she owed nothing to just because it was the right thing to do.
Brandon took a deep breath and stood up. He knew what he had to do. He left his office and walked to Janine’s desk. Sitting down, he went through her desk looking for Miss. Lee’s contact information, hoping the woman had been smart enough to leave it. It was possible she gave up and didn’t see the point. He searched the desktop, the shelves and the drawers. He opened the daily planner and went through the appointments, all the names and phone numbers, but he couldn’t find it.
He sat back in his seat and thought. How did he find her if she didn’t leave contact information? He found the phone book and started looking for the Lees, what was her first name again? He found the right page but gee there were a lot of names on that list. Maybe he could go back to the restaurant. Someone there had to know her. Didn’t she say her family owned it? At least he assumed they did since she was offering free meals.
He decided he would go back to the restaurant, but he couldn’t remember the name of the place. It was something Moon? Dragon Moon. That was it, what was the address again? He couldn’t remember, but he still had the phonebook.
- Writer
