A Certain Justice

Glitsky was on his feet, moving to the door.

'Let's go, Diz. Back to work.'

'I'm not working today.'

He stopped at the door, opening it. 'I am. Let's go.'

On the way down the steps, Hardy told him he was turning into a really lousy host, and Glitsky told him that next time he should maybe wait until he got an invitation before he came over.

58

Jerohm Reese, sitting within the thirty square feet of the attorney's visiting room on the Sixth floor, thought his lawyer Gina Roake was looking pretty fine lately. Lost some weight, maybe put some highlights in her dark hair where he'd noticed her getting some gray strands. She looked good with the makeup looking fresh. Woman must be near forty – time to get serious she wants to get herself fixed up with some man. She doing okay.

It was after lunchtime at the jail and people could say what they wanted, but Jerohm, he'd take meals on the county anytime – today breakfast he got eggs, sausage, potatoes, three slices of bread, juice, cup of fruit. Then, not four hours later, they were bringing up his tray with two thick slabs that good meat loaf, mashed potatoes, country gravy, green beans, three slices bread (they always did the three slices bread), big old square carrot cake with that maple-syrup icing, couple cartons milk. No complaints 'bout the jail food – most times better than what Carrie put out.

'Damn, girl,' he was gri

Gina Roake had already placed her briefcase on the floor beside the tiny table. She had been with the public defender's office for eight years and had represented Jerohm three times since his early days at the Youth Academy. She was the one who had gotten him leniency on his 'first offense' (as an adult) and who had argued successfully with the late Chris Locke on the insurmountable evidence problems the prosecution faced regarding the murder charge on Mike Mullen.

Seem like every time Gina show up Jerohm walk out of the slam, so she lately Jerohm's favorite – Gina didn't quite share the feeling.

'Sit down, Jerohm.'

'Hey, I'm sittin', but I tell you, I like that new thing, the hair… wachu doin' with color…'

She leaned back as far as she could, arms crossed over her suit jacket. 'What are you doing with your brains, Jerohm?'

'Huh? Hey, what?' It hurt him when she came down on him like this. Girl got no call…

But she was going on. 'Not even one week ago we get you out of here, you remember that? We talk and say maybe it be a good idea' – Gina slipped into the jargon like an old pair of shoes – 'be a good idea if you stayed inside, watch a lot of television, like that. You remember that?'

She got no call talkin' like that at him. He sat back now, mimicking her, arms crossed, sullen. He shrugged. 'They giving everybody else tickets. Me they lock up.'

She pointed at him. 'You,' she said, 'had two thousand dollars worth of assorted merchandise which didn't belong to you in the trunk of your stolen car, Jerohm. You see any difference here?'

Another shrug. 'They just out to get me. Looking for me, is all. Hasslin'.'

She was forward now, halfway across the table, trying to keep her temper in check. 'Hey, listen up, Jerohm. Hasslin' is like when they're following you around, bust your chops for jay-walking, you hear what I'm saying?'

'Hey, now, girl, you listen…'

'AND DON'T YOU GIRL ME ANYMORE.' The outburst felt so good, she forced herself to rein in. 'I'm not your girl. I'm your attorney, and you're putting me in a position where I can not do you any good. Don't you understand that?'

One of the guards who had been standing outside knocked on the door, opened it. 'Everything okay in here?'

Ms Roake nodded. 'Everything's fine, thanks.' The door closed and with an almost visible effort she brought herself back to her client. 'Sometimes, Jerohm, I have to wonder why I want to get you off. I mean what are you doing out there in the middle of the night robbing these stores? This is your 'hood, these are your people.'

Jerohm rolled his eyes. 'Hey shi… they leave the door open, who's problem is that? 'Sides, they got insurance, likely. Ain't nobody gettin' hurt.'

' 'Cept if somebody show up, try to stop you.'

'Well, nobody did. QED. Hey, look, you get me off 'cause that's what they pay you for. Weren't for guys like me, you got no work. Maybe you out on the street yourself.' Smug and secure, a charmer, he broke a toothy smile.

She sucked in some air. The chain reaction that had begun with the negotiated release of Jerohm a few days before had led Gina to question the very nature of what she was doing. In her mind there had been no question that Jerohm had shot Mike Mullen point-blank in cold blood for the temporary use of his car, though of course Jerohm was smart enough (if that word applied) to deny it to his attorney, but that had not been the issue.

The issue had been, as it always was in defense work, does the prosecution have enough evidence to constitute proof beyond a reasonable doubt? And when all the eyewitnesses had gone sideways, she had realized that in this instance there was no case. She had argued that before the late Christopher Locke and she had prevailed.

And look what had happened.

Always before, whenever she'd have these doubts, she'd talked with her fellow public defenders, had a couple of drinks, gotten resold on the idea that her job was to provide the best defense the law allowed. It was the give and take of the law – win some, lose some.

But Jerohm, suddenly and unexpectedly, had made it all more significant, and personal. This was a murderer, a thief, a mugger, a sociopath of the absolutely first rank, and he sits here joking with her as though the whole thing's a lark. She found herself wondering if 'doing her job' fell under the general rubric of 'following orders' that had been the great rationalization for so much evil for so long. Gina Roake was Jewish and she was intimately familiar with the parallels. And they were shaking her.

But, for the moment, she was here. She was supposed to represent Jerohm again. She folded her hands together on the table in front of her. 'Okay, so… where do we go now, Jerohm? You're getting arraigned on Tuesday…'

'Tuesday? What's this Tuesday?' With attitude now, a bit of the street push, seeing he was getting to her.

'We got a holiday weekend, Jerohm. The courts are closed on the Fourth of July, which is Monday, so it's Tuesday.'

'Now wait a minute, can't you get me like habeas corpus, something like that?'

It was her experience that a great percentage of the jail's population could spout Latin like Jesuits when they had to. She thought it was a powerful example of motivation being the key to learning.

Gina shook her head. 'No habeas corpus, Jerohm. And I think we're going to have a problem with a not guilty here. We might have to cop a plea.'

'Hey, no way, man. I ain't going down for no jail time on this.' He studied her a minute, trying to figure what game she was playin' on him. He didn't see it. 'Hey, c'mon, Gina, you know, this wasn't nothin'.'

'Well, actually, it was… we got stolen goods, Jerohm, we got presumption of looting, resisting arrest, we got breaking the curfew.'

'Yeah, but we also got the fact that everybody else doin' this shit is walking out with-'

'It's not exactly the same shit.'

'Close enough and you know it is, girl.' At her reaction to the second 'girl' he held up a hand and said he was sorry. 'But you know the truth is it don't matter what I did - if that was it you know I ain't in no county lockup. They have me up to San Quentin. We gotta say I'm bein' prejudiced against. That the shot.'

That was the best shot. Gina knew that. She could go down to the new DA's office and argue passionately for that position. She had done similar things many times and sometimes it worked. But this time she wasn't sure she could do it. She felt that at some point you had to draw the line, and she was at hers.