Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24693 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 99(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
I open my closet, pull out all my suitcases, and head to where I should’ve gone when I first left Harvard…
CLOSING ARGUMENT (N.):
THE FINAL ARGUMENT BY AN ATTORNEY ON BEHALF OF HIS/HER CLIENT AFTER ALL EVIDENCE HAS BEEN PRODUCED FOR BOTH SIDES.
JAMESON
Several Weeks Later
Irefresh my inbox for the umpteenth time, waiting to see the apology I deserve from Scarlett, but she still hasn’t come to her senses.
Her highly inappropriate question—What would it take to make you drop my father’s case?—has infiltrated my brain all day, every day, and I can’t believe she had the audacity to even ask me that.
Even if her dad is a murderer…
“Here you are.” Rachel walks into my office and sets a stack of folders on the edge of my desk.
“Thank you,” I say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She crosses her arms. “I’m free to go home already?”
“If you’re done with everything on your list, I don’t see why that’s a problem.”
“It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, Jameson. Wake up.” She slams a hand on my desk. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I look to the windows on my left, where the gray clouds and heavy rain are deceiving me about the time.
“My apologies,” I say. “I’m having a bit of an off day.”
“An off month, you mean?”
“I don’t recall sending you home due to weather before.”
“No, but you’ve done tons of other things that have the staff whispering and wondering if you’re suffering from a brain injury.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I wish I was.” She shuts my door, then lowers her voice. “Is this about Scarlett?”
“Who?”
“Scarlett?” She repeats. “Your secret girlfriend who I pretend like I don’t know about.”
“I’ve never mentioned her to you.”
“Hence the ‘pretend not to know’ part, Jameson.” She offers a small smile. “I’ve seen the way you look when you’re on the phone with her.”
“Well, neither of us has to worry about that anymore.” I set down my pen. “Scarlett and I are done talking to each other.”
“Already? Why?”
I pause before answering. I could easily give her a generic reason, but I need confirmation that I’m right in letting Scarlett go.
“She thought we had a morally bright future together,” I say. “We don’t.”
She blinks.
“She also started thinking that she was entitled to my personal life and what cases I choose.”
“So, you walled her off like you wall off everyone else...”
“I don’t do relationships anyway,” I say. “It’s for the best, and I’m sure you can concur.”
Silence.
“This is the part where you say, ‘I agree, Jameson. Let’s get to work on what matters.’”
She says nothing.
“I agree, Jameson.” I repeat myself a little louder. “Let’s get to work. Say it.”
“I won’t.” She steps back. “I think Scarlett was good for you. She made you come off as human for a change.”
“I knew her for a few months at best.”
“I bet it didn’t feel that way, though, right?”
Silence.
“Let me know when you feel like actually talking about this, or whenever you want help drafting an apology.”
“I’m not apologizing for shit.”
“We’ll see.”
“I’m not, Rachel.”
“Okay, Jameson.” She walks toward the door.
“I’m serious, Rachel,” I say. “She wanted me to dump Lucas Hunter—her own fucking father—because she thinks he’s guilty.”
“Guilty of what?”
“Murder and a bunch of other felony charges.”
“Do you think he is?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think.” I’m so tired of explaining this shit. “It’s about what the jury thinks.”
“If you weren’t hell-bent on winning every case by defending the undefendable, can you somewhat see why someone would be upset about a murderer getting off?”
“It happens every day.” I shrug. “It’s not my fault I’m good at what I do, and it’s her fault for being silly enough to believe the law is fair. It’s not, and it never has been.”
“I pray one day you’ll stop telling yourself that…”
“Use your prayers on something else.” I glare at her. “I won’t.”
She looks at me the same way Scarlett did, slamming the door as she leaves, but I couldn’t care less.
If only people knew what the hell I’d been through, they’d never question a fucking thing I did, and they’d be standing in every court case trying to even the scales with me…
VERDICT
THE DECISION OF A JURY AFTER A TRIAL, WHICH MUST BE ACCEPTED BY THE TRIAL JUDGE TO BE FINAL.
JAMES (BACK BEFORE I CHANGED IT TO MY FATHER’S NAME IN COLLEGE…)
Twenty-Eight Years Ago
Bright blue and white lights shone through my blinds on a Saturday morning.
“Jameson Tate!” someone shouted from outside. “This is the Pittsburgh Police Department. Step outside the house with your hands up!”
What the…
I rolled over in bed and looked out the window.
Confused, I wiped my eyes, certain I was still dreaming.
“Dad?” I called out. “Dad, what are they doing?”
He didn’t answer me. Instead, he stepped outside with his hands raised above his head.
Within seconds, the police were tackling him to the ground.
“Jameson Tate, you’re under arrest for the first-degree murder of Tom Raider.”