Tides of Truth [03] Greater Love (22 page)

Jessie shrugged. “There’s a girl in the next cell block who’s only seventeen. She’s not going to juvenile court.”

“What did she do?”

“Nothing. She’s not guilty.”

“What’s the charge against her?”

“That she stabbed another girl in the leg with a knife. But she says it was her boyfriend who did it. He convinced her to tell the police that she did it because she would be charged as a kid, but they’re going to make her go to adult court anyway.”

“Aggravated assault is a violent crime against a person. The police claim you broke a window and stole a bag of donuts. I don’t think the district attorney’s office would try to keep your case in superior court if it turns out you’re a minor.”

Jessie studied me for a moment. “I thought you didn’t know much about criminal law.”

“This is basic stuff every lawyer knows. Did you break into the store and take the donuts?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t very good. The policeman who took them from me said the expiration date had passed. That ought to be a crime.”

“How did the police catch you?”

“Someone saw me inside the store and called them. I shouldn’t have turned on the lights. I was in the woods behind the store when the police got there. I tried to run, but there was another car waiting for me when I came out of the woods.”

“Did you admit you’d broken into the store?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t lie about it because I cut my arm on the glass when I broke the window.”

Jessie held up her right arm that had the remains of an ugly gash near her elbow.

“Was that the first time you’d stolen something?”

“No, just the first time I’d been caught.”

Surprised, I paused.

“But you can’t tell the police that, can you?” she continued. “It’s confidential.”

“Right,” I said, regaining my focus. “How many other thefts or breakins have you committed?”

Jessie shook her head. “Maybe ten or twelve. I didn’t count. It depended on whether I had anything to eat or not.”

“Didn’t your aunt give you food?”

Jessie narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know what it’s like to be poor, do you?”

“No, and I’m sorry you didn’t have enough to eat. Did these other breakins take place since you came to Savannah?”

“Yeah, but I’d never broken a window or anything like that. Mostly, I took something that was out in the open.”

“Always food?”

Jessie thought for a moment. “I grabbed some clothes that were on the sidewalk in front of a store.”

“That’s shoplifting. Did you ever go inside someone’s house and take something?”

“Yeah, if the door was unlocked.”

I winced. Each incident of illegal entry into a home would be a felony burglary.

“Did anyone ever see you?”

“I don’t think so. I mean, I never saw anyone when I was inside a house.”

“What would you steal?”

“Food, food, food!” Jessie’s voice got progressively louder. “I’d grab what I could and run out! Is this some lawyer trick? Asking me the same thing over and over, hoping I’ll give a different answer?”

“I’m just trying to see what you’re up against. Right now, there’s only one burglary charge against you. If more charges are filed that means your bond could go higher, the punishment more severe.” I glanced down at the order from Judge Cannon. “Did the officer who arrested you read your Miranda rights before he questioned you?”

“Yeah, just like they do on TV.”

“Did the police ask you about other breakins or thefts?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t tell them anything except admit to the donut deal. I figured if they solved that crime they might not try to connect me with anything else.”

It wasn’t a bad strategy, but the possibility of multiple felonies raised the stakes considerably. Jessie studied me for a moment.

“How would you prove how old I am?” she asked. “I’ve already told everyone I’m eighteen.”

“You have a birth certificate. Where were you born?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m not even sure what state it was. It might have been Alabama. My daddy used to say he found me under a rock.”

“What’s his name and where could I find him?”

“Ben Whitewater, and he died when I was a little girl. If you can’t remember stuff, why aren’t you taking notes?”

“I don’t have a legal pad. I wasn’t planning on coming to the jail to talk to you until later. Who did you live with after your father died?”

“My stepmother, mostly.”

“What’s her name?”

Jessie started to answer then stopped. “I’m not going to tell you.”

“Were you staying with her before you ran away?”

Jessie shook her head. I was close to getting valuable information she didn’t want to give up.

“Where did you go to school? It would have records showing how old you are. I could contact the school officials without letting your stepmother know about it.”

“I wasn’t going to school. I graduated last year, right before I turned eighteen.”

“How could that be true if your birthday is December 22?”

“Uh, I got out in the middle of the year because I’d gone to summer school.”

I sighed. Jessie Whitewater was able to think on her feet better than some of my law school classmates.

“Okay, remember what I said about juvenile court,” I said, closing my file. “It will be a lot easier on you later in life if you don’t have a criminal record. Juvenile court proceedings are sealed to the public, and no one would ever know you got into trouble. If there are more felony charges filed against you as an adult, it will get a lot more complicated.”

I waited. I could see Jessie trying to decide whether to say anything else.

“If you stop being my lawyer, would the things I told you still be confidential?” she asked.

“Absolutely. Why?”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

I watched as Jessie Whitewater followed the guard through the door. The most important information I’d obtained was that the young woman harbored a great fear—one so terrifying that remaining hidden was her highest priority.

W
HEN
I
ARRIVED BACK AT THE OFFICE,
M
AGGIE AND
J
ULIE HAD
returned and were in Shannon’s office. The secretary had a tissue in her hand. When she saw me, she turned her head away.

“Tami, you won’t believe what—,” Julie started.

“In my office,” Maggie interrupted, motioning to Julie and me.

Mystified, I followed the other two women. Maggie closed the door. Julie and I stood in the open space in front of Maggie’s desk.

“Your minister friend made another visit,” Maggie said. “What you saw out there was the fallout.”

I licked my lips.

“She wanted to see you,” Julie added. “Claims you came by her house a couple of hours ago. I checked the open files and didn’t find her name. Are you secretly representing her?”

“No, it has to do with a case Judge Cannon assigned me this morning. Sister Dabney asked him to give it to me, and I wanted to find out what she knew before beginning my investigation. She wasn’t home so I went to the jail and talked to the client first.”

“You can fill us in on that later,” Maggie said. “Whatever Dabney’s reason for coming here, she used it as another opportunity to intimidate Shannon.”

“What did she say to her?”

Julie spoke. “That if she doesn’t give her husband a second chance, he’ll marry someone else, and Shannon will regret it for the rest of her life. It may be true, but I can’t believe she had the nerve to say that to her.”

“Truth or not, tell Dabney to stop coming to the office,” Maggie said to me. “I’m not blaming you for her conduct, but if you want to meet with her, it will have to be someplace else. I’m not going to allow Shannon to be harassed by a client. We banned several people a year from coming to the district attorney’s office. I didn’t expect it to be a problem for us, but since it is, I’m taking action.”

“I agree,” Julie added with a wink in my direction. “It’s bad enough having Tami trying to cram her brand of religion down my throat. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to swallow a dose from Reverend Dabney.”

“Enough,” Maggie said, obviously not in a joking mood. “Tami, will you take care of it?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Maggie motioned for me to sit down. “Now tell me about the case Judge Cannon gave you.”

Julie left, and I told Maggie about the meeting with the judge and the interview with Jessie at the jail.

“I spent six months handling juvenile court cases when I first started working at the DA’s office,” Maggie said when I finished. “The client would get a slap on the wrist with a few months’ probation. It makes no sense to keep the case in superior court, especially if there are other charges floating around out there.”

“What should I do next?”

“File the standard motions in the superior court case and talk to Dabney. You have two reasons to meet with her. Do you know who has the file at the DA’s office?”

“No.”

“Find out. If it’s Tim Corwin, I can definitely help you out.”

I returned to my office, thankful that I had Maggie as a resource in the Whitewater case. To that extent, Sister Dabney’s word that I would benefit from working with two women was true. However, Maggie’s decision banning Sister Dabney from the office was also understandable, even if I personally believed Shannon should heed the woman preacher’s warning. Toward the end of the day Julie knocked on my door frame.

“Well?” she asked.

“If it’s about Zach and Vince, I haven’t had time to think about it. It’s been a busy day.”

“I thought about it,” she replied, “all the way back to Savannah from my hearing in Brunswick. If you don’t pick Zach, he’s going to marry someone else and you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life.”

My mouth dropped slightly open. Julie smiled and nodded her head.

“I wanted to see what it felt like to be Reverend Dabney. It’s quite a power trip. How did it feel on your end?”

“Scary.”

“Remember that when you talk to her. However, I really did think a lot about you, Zach, and Vinny. Maybe it’s not the best time for you to ramp up a romantic relationship with either one of them.” Julie held up two fingers. “In the past month you’ve left your home in Powell Station and moved to Savannah to start a new job. That’s a lot of new territory, especially for someone like you.”

“But what if Zach did meet someone else—”

“I’d take a bet at 1,000 to 1 on that,” Julie interrupted. “If he wants a girl like you, it’s going to take him years to find another one. Zach’s standards are your best safety net.”

“But I’ve got to say something to him. This morning you told me I needed to go to Zach and repent.”

“Repent of that singleness nonsense. Anyone can look at you and see motherhood written across your forehead.”

“Huh?”

“Hear me out. I know about these things. In relationships women want feedback. Men benefit from space. The more you think about Zach, the more stressed you’ll get. The more he thinks about you, the more he’ll miss you. Vinny is a little bit fuzzier to me. He’s not shown his hand, but the same holds true for him. For a man, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Trust me. I’m right about this.”

Julie left me confused. When I walked to Shannon’s office and handed her the information needed to open the Jessie Whitewater file, I assured her that I would talk to Sister Dabney.

“Will that stop her?” Shannon asked.

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “But in the past she’s recognized the point when a person doesn’t want her input and backed away.”

“In those situations was she right?”

“Do you really want to know?” I asked.

Shannon paused. “No, I guess I don’t.”

T
HE FOLLOWING MORNING
I
TRIED AGAIN, WITHOUT SUCCESS, TO
contact Sister Dabney, then worked on some other matters. A couple of hours later, Shannon buzzed me.

“Judge Cannon on line one.”

I rushed to Shannon’s desk, retrieved the Whitewater file, and made it back to my chair in a matter of seconds.

“Yes, sir,” I said, somewhat breathlessly.

“Your defendant doesn’t write like a high school sophomore,” the judge said. “Did you help her compose this letter she sent me?”

“What letter?”

“I received a letter this morning in a packet from the jail. Ms. Whitewater demands I appoint someone else to represent her.”

“Did she give a reason?” I asked in surprise. “I met with her the first time yesterday afternoon.”

“It’s similar to a pro se habeas corpus motion alleging ineffective assistance of counsel,” the judge grunted. “Usually, the defendant waits until the lawyer loses the case to claim incompetence. Whitewater can’t wait to get rid of you—claims you’re biased against her because of religious reasons and can’t competently represent her. Can you help me understand what she’s talking about?”

“I’d be guessing.”

“Go ahead.”

I took a deep breath. “It’s probably related to Sister Dabney, who, as you’ve observed, is a woman with strong religious convictions. Ms. Whitewater may see me as an extension of that effort.”

“A little religion is good for anyone.”

“Yes, sir. More is even better.”

“Unless it compromises the integrity of your duty as a lawyer to your client,” the judge replied. “Would your religious beliefs prevent you from providing competent representation to this client?”

I hesitated. Saying yes would be an easy way to get out of the case. I held a quick internal debate.

“No, sir, unless she asks me to do something unethical.”

“The rules of professional responsibility will guide you in that event. Ms. Smith has experience in criminal law cases. Consult with her; that’s one of the benefits of a firm.”

“I already have.”

“Good. One other thing, the defendant claims she has an uncle who is a retired lawyer in Birmingham. Did she mention that to you?”

“No, we talked about an aunt in Savannah, but she said she couldn’t remember where she lives. The defendant has an active imagination, which makes me wonder—”

“Counselor, don’t breach the attorney-client privilege.”