Randy Singer - By reason of insanity

"It's okay," Annie whispered to Quinn. "I'll be all right."

"I'd like to try this case before I leave the bench," said Strackman. "But the only open dates I've got are during the last few weeks before my retirement. What if we started the trial on August twenty-first?"

"I can make it work," Carla Duncan said.

Unfortunately, Quinn's calendar looked open on the twenty-first as well, unless…

Just yesterday, Marc Boland had obtained a trial date in Catherine O'Rourke's case. Boland and Boyd Gates had played a game of legal chicken, both claiming they wanted a speedy trial-Boland because he wanted to prove his client's innocence and get her released from jail as soon as possible; Gates because the case was "open and shut." Gates boasted that the commonwealth could be ready to try the case later that week.

The court had taken the lawyers at their chest-thumping word and set the trial for August eighteenth, just a few months out. Quinn seized on that now.

"We'll have to bump it back into September," Quinn said. Under no circumstances did he want this judge sentencing Annie. "I'm scheduled to start the case of Commonwealth v. O'Rourke on August eighteenth. It's expected to last at least two weeks. There's no way I can be ready to try this case until the middle of September."

Judge Strackman locked his eyes on Quinn for a moment, peering over reading glasses, as if questioning Quinn's integrity. But Quinn also knew that deep down, Strackman didn't want the hassle of a retrial either. "I'd hate to leave this as unfinished business for my successor," said Strackman, half-convincingly. "But after I leave the bench on the last day of August, the only judging I plan on doing is a wine-tasting contest here and there."

Quinn just shrugged his shoulders. Eventually they all agreed to set the case for September fifteenth, a date that would necessitate a different judge. Quinn thought he detected Strackman fighting off a smile.

Quinn would have been smiling too if he had not just guaranteed that his sister would be spending at least three months in jail before her case would even be heard.

Quinn walked into his condo that afternoon and found Sierra sprawled out on his brown leather couch, listening to her iPod and typing on her computer. She looked up at Quinn expectantly, worry creasing her forehead. She'd known there was a good chance her mom would have her bail revoked.

Quinn placed his briefcase by the door and took a place next to Sierra on the couch. She put her computer on the coffee table and took out her earphones. Without saying a word, Quinn could tell she already knew. Maybe she had been watching television or surfing the Internet. Maybe she just surmised it from the fact that Annie had not returned with Quinn.

"We lost," Quinn said. "Your mom had to go to jail pending her trial." He saw the pain register on Sierra's thin face as her fears were confirmed. He wanted to reach out and touch her, maybe even give her a hug, but somehow it didn't seem right. "It's only for a few months, Sierra. She'll be free for good once this trial is over."

Sierra stared down at the carpet, tears pooling in her eyes. She brushed them away with the back of her hand, breaking Quinn's heart in the process.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "Thanks for letting me stay here, Uncle Quinn," she said. Awkwardly, she leaned over to hug him. He held her, concerned at how thin and frail she felt.

"We're going to get through this," he said. "One day soon, you and your mom will be together again."

Sierra didn't respond, and Quinn wondered what was going on inside her young head. Sierra was no longer a preadolescent, a child who took assurances at face value. She knew it was possible her mom could spend the rest of her life in jail. And now Quinn would have to tell her about Annie's attempt to obtain fake visas. He didn't want Sierra hearing about that from someone else.

Quinn took a deep breath and, in the softest voice possible, explained to Sierra that her mom had made a big mistake.

Later that afternoon, Quinn ducked his head into his bedroom, a room he now referred to as "Sierra's room." Sierra was sitting on the bed, watching a movie on her computer.

"I'm going to the office for a few hours," Quinn said. "You gonna be okay?"

"I'm fine," Sierra said. Her voice carried less melancholy than it had earlier in the day.

"I'll be back in time for visiting hours for your mom."

"Okay."

"If you need anything to eat, help yourself."

Sierra looked at him and smiled thinly. "I'll be fine, Uncle Quinn. Don't worry about me."

"Okay."

But he did worry. He worried nonstop until he arrived at the office and Melanie started barking out instructions. She handed him pink phone messages and a stack of prioritized e-mails she had printed out. She followed him into the office and started discussing calendar issues before he could even sit in his chair. She said that she had personally talked to Catherine O'Rourke earlier that day when Catherine had called collect.

"You can't lead her on anymore, Quinn. If you're going to withdraw from the case, you need to let her know."

"Right."

Lastly, Melanie started running through the media requests. Quinn rejected them all, gun-shy after his interview on The Early Show. It wasn't about trying the case in the press anymore; it was about protecting Sierra's privacy. The best way to do that was not to comment.

"And," said Melanie, "Mr. Espinoza wants to see you."

Quinn rubbed a hand over his tired face. "Close the door," he said. "Have a seat."

Melanie closed the door and sat down in front of his desk. "Are you going to fire me?" she asked.

"Are you kidding?"

She shrugged. "You never do this. I figured it must be pretty important."

"It is." Quinn shifted in his seat and picked up a paper clip to keep his hands busy while he carefully selected his words. "I need to stay on Catherine O'Rourke's case. I've been thinking this weekend about how much she needs me. Her lead counsel is a good lawyer, but he doesn't know much about the insanity defense." He paused. He had never been one to bare his soul to anyone, much less his assistant.

"This is why I went to law school, Melanie. Not to represent these white-collar criminals but to help people like Catherine. Frankly, until Annie got in trouble, I had pretty much lost sight of that."

Melanie looked a little uncomfortable, and Quinn didn't blame her. This was certainly out of character for him.

"The firm told me that they didn't want me handling both Catherine's case and Annie's case because they didn't think I could carry my weight financially-"

"That's ridiculous," Melanie interjected. "You've been one of the highest-"

"Hang on," Quinn said. "Let me finish. They let me take Catherine O'Rourke's case when we all thought Annie was going to plead out. But now, with what happened to Sierra, Annie can't take that deal. And when the judge tried to set an early trial date for Annie, I used Catherine's case as an excuse to push Annie's trial back. Long story short, I locked myself into both."

"Good," Melanie said. "I never wanted to withdraw from Catherine O'Rourke's case in the first place."

"My question," Quinn continued, "is this: if the firm tries to force me to drop O'Rourke's case and I refuse, will you step out with me if I start my own firm?"

"They'd be idiots to make you do that," Melanie insisted. "But I'd be with you in a heartbeat."

"Even if I couldn't pay you the first few weeks?"

She thought about it, undoubtedly running budget numbers in her head. Quinn knew it was unfair to ask her to do this, but it would take him a few weeks just to get a line of credit established.

"Same salary and benefits as here?" Melanie asked.