Note: Christina is in the picture.
AMBER P.O.V.
“Christina, I cannot represent him,” I pleaded with my boss for the hundredth time. She was not trying to hear anything I had to say.
“Your job is to represent your client, regardless of the baggage that comes along with it.” Without looking up, she held the file up to me while jotting notes causing her diamond Tennis Bracelet to slip to her forearm.
She was thickly built for a white lady. She wasn’t big, but she was hippy and top heavy. She wore her orangish-brown hair pined up in a slight French roll.
Christina wasn’t a particularly bad boss, but she had the habit of always pushing the majority of the work load off on me. She claimed it was because I was one of the best Attorney’s on staff. While I don’t deny that, there were three other Attorney’s with half as many cases. For goodness-sake, give them some shit to do!
“Christina, he admitted to me that he killed the victim. It is against ethics to represent him,” I looked at the file then her.
She finally looked up at me and held her right hand on the temple of her head. “Amber, half the people we represent are guilty anyway. What’s the difference?”
“We don’t know that,” I protested. “Listen, it’s 8’clock. I am ready to go home. I don’t have time to go back and forth with you,” she got up and got her trench coat from the coat hanger in the corner of her office. “On top of that, I need this brief by Monday.”
Our conversation was interrupted when her door creaked open. “I didn’t know anyone was in here, I just need to empty the trash,” August stood there for a moment giving me a slight smile. I gave a quick weak smile, and turned my attention back to Christina.
“Are you going to get the trash or stand there,” Christina snapped at August while putting on her coat. “My bad”, he removed the clear plastic garbage bag from the trash can next to Christina’s desk and it replaced it with a fresh bag.
“Nice to see you again Amber,” he smirked at me. “You two know each other,” Christina looked at me suspiciously. “No. Just ran into him yesterday. I try to be nice to all the staff, even the help.”
I didn’t look at August’s face, but I felt his hurt and embarrassment. He left out without saying another word closing the door.
What did I do? I didn’t mean to be rude, I really didn’t, but I couldn’t have Christina on my case about anything else. “Make sure you lock your drawers. They steal you know,” she said locking her desk drawers with the key.
“About the case,” I got her back on track. “Yes about the case. There’s nobody else to handle it. So it’s not an option,” she wrapped her scarf around her neck.
I had to take a stance this time. I had left New Orleans for this very reason. Three years ago, I defended a man that admitted to me he shot someone six times. I was fresh out of law school then, and was too afraid to tell my boss what the man admitted to.
So I defended him anyway and he got off. It pains my heart to know that man is probably still somewhere in NOLA ruining more lives. But what pains me even more is that I had to see the victim’s mother in court.
I can’t describe her cries. Her wails could only be understood by mother’s who have lost their children to gun violence. Her tears and screams came from the gut. We had a moment where she stared me in the eyes as I congratulated my client.
As I walked out she simply said, “I’m going to pray for you sweetheart. We both know the truth, and I can’t get my son back, but I at least though I would’ve got justice.”
