Maximilian Mcdowell- ESQ.

Chapter 1- An introduction to the case.

Maximilian Mcdowell- ESQ.

I adjusted the small brass name plate for the 50th time, biting my lip and waiting for Maxi to come back in. I could hear him outside, speaking in sharp whispers with some of his associates and paralegals. After what felt like the passing of an age, he walked in, smoothed out his suit-coat, and gave me a smile as he sat down across from me.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, my voice wobbling a bit out in the open, betraying how worried I was.

He nodded, brushing some of his hair out of his eyes before answering in his deep drawling voice. "Absolutely Miss Witt. While your brother's case is a bit unusual, I have full confidence in my ability to get him acquitted." He began to tap his foot slowly as he spoke. "I will need to talk to him in person, bring up a few of our options... but it should be absolutely no problem."

"And what will this... what will the price be?"

His foot tapping sped slightly as he laughed. "Oh that's absolutely nothing to worry about. Being that this is such a well-known case... I'll do it all at half my normal rate. This will get me publicity enough that I'll make the money back easy."

"But how much?"

"For the consulting, research, and planning... let's say $50 an hour. $100 for every hour spent in the courtroom."

I frowned, but nodded. The price wasn't bad, and Maxi had gotten plenty of people acquitted before, so it should have been no problem for him. I stood and shook his hand, walking out the door.

The walk home was a long one, so I had plenty of time to think everything over. A few months ago, my brother, Anthony Witt, was arrested on charges of triple murder. He was accused of killing a man named Jericho Berendi and his brothers in a crime of passion. It had come out that my brother was quite gay, and had been secretly dating Jericho for some time until his brothers found out, at which time Jericho broke it off and denied any relationship had ever existed, causing quite a bit of trouble for my brother. What happened afterwards had been in the news everywhere for weeks. The three brothers, two dead, one missing, all clues leading to Anthony... the media had played it up in the days before and after his arrest, and his name was still brought up every now and again in daytime talk shows and pod-casts. Some movie studio had even tried to buy the rights to his "story," putting it completely impersonally in their letter begging to make a movie with my little brother, my Anthony, as a deranged villain. I'd turned them down quite maturely, at first, however after they badgered me the third time for the right to interview Anthony about his motives, I grew fussy and immature quickly.

I reached my door and sighed when I saw yet another letter from the film company lying on my floor. I ripped it in half without even reading it, tossing it in a pile of recycling that would be carried off at some point within the next year. I sighed again when it hit me just how quiet and empty my apartment was, without the noise of my brother walking around, or even a television blaring. I'd gotten rid of it after the worst of the news updates started playing on repeat, when I was feeling sick in the depths of my stomach from seeing Anthony blasted on national television as a murderer.

I laid down and took out my phone, checking for any updates or messages, from my brother in jail, from Maxi's law firm... from anyone. But my phone was barren. I stood and walked over to my bookshelf, taking down an old picture album yet again. It had become a nightly tradition to flip through the pages and remind myself of my life prior to the literal insanity that had overtaken it in the past few months. I smiled when I saw pictures of Anthony and Maxi, standing together at their graduation. They had been best friends back then, Maxi had been one of the first to hear that Anthony was gay, one of the first to call me after his arrest, to offer his help. First as just a friend, a shoulder to cry on and vent to, and then, later, as an attorney. Just yesterday he'd started the process of enrolling Anthony as a client, and getting the papers in mine and Anthony's hands to make that possible. He was a life saver, always had been, even back when all that meant was to help me keep Anthony's secret and help Anthony hook up with other closeted guys at parties. In another life we would've dated for a few years but, for all the obvious reasons, it had just never happened. I turned the page, and there was a picture of Anthony and I, smiling on a cruise ship. That was just after I'd moved out and decided to move in with him. He had been so happy, so proud of me for realizing that my parents were controlling, nearly abusive in their ways, that he used most of his savings to get us a five day cruise up and down the east coast. It was after we'd gotten back that he'd started his relationship with Jericho.

I winced. I'd made myself sad again, so I put the album away and sat back down on my bed, closing my eyes.

Would Maxi really be able to help us? The evidence seemed overwhelming, even to me. Jericho was dead, shot twice in the back of his head. His older brother, one of a set of twins, had been killed as well, blunt trauma to the back of the head. The other twin was missing. The gun had been found in Anthony's car, covered in the older brother's blood. There were no signs of anyone breaking in to put it there, so it seemed as if Anthony had, in fact, killed the two of them. The only missing puzzle piece was the third brother, Joseph.

He was presumed dead, obviously. The police had tried to badger the information out of Anthony in any way that they could, but Anthony held fast to his story that he hadn't seen the older brother, and that he had been nowhere near the scene of the crime that night. Complicating matters for him, however, were the witnesses.

There were three, at least three for sure that I knew of, and myself. One was a woman who'd found the bodies, the other was a man who worked at a gas station, and there was at least one more, possible more than that... I groaned when I realized that the persecution had their work made easy for them. The public thought he did it, the evidence and witnesses would agree... how could anyone stand against it?

Finally, unable to stand it, I stood up and walked to the pantry, getting myself a sleeping pill and a bottle of water. I downed both in a couple of chugs, and walked back to bed, ready to sleep away the afternoon and night, content to live like this until the trial.