Phil
“You spoke to him?” Sarge asked.
“I did,” I replied. “At length.”
“And?”
“He seems like a decent man and seems to believe me,” I said.
I had met the public defender that Sargent Green had retained for me. He was an older gentleman, possibly late fifties or early sixties. He was balding at the top of his head, and the hair he had on the sides was salt and pepper silver. He really did seem like a decent man, and I was hoping that he was an effective lawyer. He had listened to my story, he had taken down a few notes, and then he had scheduled our next meeting.
I had spent the night in a dark cell that I was forced to share with a man named Munch. Munch was a scarily skinny man. He was over six feet tall and had full body tattoos and a long ponytail that had a streak of red running through it. I noticed he had a tiny teardrop tattoo under his right eye. He had done nothing more than grunt at me, and when lig
hts went out for the night, his intermittent snoring had kept me up. Not that I would have been able to sleep anyway.
I had woken to what looked like a dog’s breakfast, and then Sarge had come to pay me a visit. I sat opposite him, with a tiny partition separating us. Sarge looked ever the respectable chief, and I felt dirty and useless in comparison.
“How are the boys?” I asked. “Did we get any emergency calls today?”
“Just one so far,” Sarge replied. “Matt’s team took it.”
“What about Kendrick, Mel, and Ryan?” I asked. “What are they… I mean, how are they?”
“If you want to know how they feel about all of this, then you don’t have to worry,” Sarge told me. “They believe you.”
“Really?” I said, with visible relief.
“Of course.” He nodded. “They’re your friends—and your brothers. They’ve spent years working alongside you. You figure out things about people when you work together that closely. You understand what they’re capable of and what they’re not.”
I smiled. “Thanks, Sarge.”
“They wanted to come,” he told me. “But I thought it was best to bring their messages—you won’t be allowed too many visitors anyway. I had to pull some strings in order to meet you today. Now listen to me; Victor Beaumont is a good public defender. He may not look like a shark, but I’ve seen him handle some tough cases, and more often than not, he wins.”
“More often than not?” I said, still nervous about my odds.
“Stay calm and remember that you’re innocent.”
“Innocent men have been tried and found guilty before,” I reminded him.
“Well, you’re not going to fall into that percentile.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I’m not,” Sarge replied. “But hope is all we’ve got at the moment.”
“What about my job?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“Your job will be waiting for you when you get out…so long as all charges against you are dropped.”
I tensed and nodded.
A second later, a cop walked towards us and addressed Sarge. “His lawyer is here to see him.”
“Thank you,” Sarge nodded, then he turned to me and gave me a bracing look. “Hang in there, okay?”
“I’ll do my best, sir.”
I had to wait another five minutes, but then Victor appeared and sat down in the seat that Sarge had just vacated. He had more files with him, and once we were alone, he turned to me and wiped his brow.