The Better Brother

“No, I can’t,” I said. “It’s me and another colleague of mine defending some asshole.”

“What are they doing?” she asked.

“I can’t go into specifics because of attorney-client privilege, but it’s absolutely insane. The client’s ready to win, ‘no matter what it takes.’”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Gwen said.

“It’s not,” I said. “This man should be stripped of his wealth and thrown into Guantanamo.”

“Whoa,” Gwen said. “Those are some harsh words. Has he killed someone or something?”

“He might as well have.”

The truth was, I had no business defending a man like this. He was the head of one of the most powerful pharmaceutical companies, and he ended up cutting corners like all asshole businesses do. He took his drug to trial before it was ready, and now, some of the patients in his trial were dying. And he wanted to cover it up and somehow make it the patients’ fault so he could take the damn drug to market to make millions.

But here was the kicker: by the time this man made his projected four hundred million dollars off this one drug, he’d have settlements to pay because more people would die. And if he could convince them all to settle out of court, that was maybe fifty million out of his pocket if he could keep the government out of it.

Which still meant he netted three hundred and fifty million dollars from this faulty fucking drug.

It was disgusting.

I finished up my lunch with Gwen and hugged her. I got myself a sweet tea to go, as well as another slice of their blackberry cobbler before I headed back to work. I knew my boss would be ready to update me on the latest toe-curling saga from Mr. Pharmaceutical.

What I didn’t expect was for him to be waiting for me at my door.

“Miss Hollis, I assume you have a good reason for being late?” he said.

“I’m not late,” I said. “I’m actually two minutes early. Would you like to come in?”

“No, we can talk right out here. You need to mount your defense forty-eight hours early. Our client is trying to settle out of court.”

“Of course, he is,” I said, sighing. “I’ll get right on it. But I’ve gotta ask you: can you really get behind this man?”

“What does that mean?” my boss asked.

“I mean, from what I’ve already read up on him in the documents, his drug is killing these patients in these trials. Why in the world are we defending someone like that?”

My boss’s stare hardened, and I could tell I was treading on thin ice. The last thing I needed was to be fired, but the more I looked at my boss’s stoic, angry face, the more I wanted to punch him in it.

“Miss Hollis, if you believe the client is at fault, it doesn’t matter. You work for me, and I’ve told you what I need from you. Now, do what you are paid to do, or I will find someone else who will. Someone I can pay a little less money for, mind you.”

“I just wanted your honest opinion,” I said. “Your honest, human opinion.”

“Tried and true lesson number one, Miss Hollis. As a lawyer, you don’t get to be human.”

His words were like a slap on my face. All my life, I’d wanted to be a lawyer. To help those that couldn’t defend themselves. I wanted to gather up the women and men who felt they couldn’t go after their perpetrators and run those assholes down. It was the human side of me, the empathetic side of me that pushed me to become a lawyer.

And now, I was working with a man who told me that was exactly what I couldn’t be.

“Sir, that simply isn’t true,” I said.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“Th

is client is killing people, and he knows it,” I said. “He’s a murderer, and he knows it. He’s come to you because you’ve sold your soul to some devil, and that means you’re willing to defend a mass murderer. There are five people dead because of him right now, and if this drug goes to market, who knows how many more will die? This man deserves everything that’s coming to him from the families he’s devastated. I will not help a murderer go free.”

“You will if you want this job,” he said.