James Sheehan - The Law of Second Chances

“Al, don’t ask me any questions, okay? I just want you to know that if something happens to me, Beano Moffit is behind it.”

“No. Sal. Don’t tell me you’re into Beano.”

“I’m not telling you anything, Al. I’m just saying, if I turn up missing or something, you tell the powers that be to put the heat on that prick.”

“Don’t say anything else, Sal. Consider it done.”

After Luis had been to the office and the paperwork was completed on the refinancing, Sal took a trip downtown to see Benny. They met in the same room where Benny had spoken with his father. Sal was determined to make things go smoothly.

“Benny, I’m Sal Paglia, the lawyer Luis Melendez hired to represent you. First thing I want to tell you-Luis is paying the freight, but you are my client. I’m working for you, not him. I’ve got experience in this stuff and I’ve got a plan, which I’ll tell you about in a minute. Second item-I do the talking. You don’t tell me nothing unless I ask. If I ask a specific question, you give me a specific answer. The reason I tell you this is because if you tell me something, I have an ethical obligation not to put on evidence that contradicts what you told me. Understand?”

Benny nodded. At this point, he simply didn’t care. Sal continued to explain, despite Benny’s nod. “You see, the less you tell me, the greater leeway I have in defending you. Got it?”

“Sure,” Benny replied. Trying as best he could to tune Sal out.

“Third item,” Sal continued. He was on a roll now-he’d had a few cups of coffee before showing up at the prison. “Bail. I don’t think I’m going to get you out of here anytime soon. That stiff you smoked-I mean, allegedly shot-was a high roller. Anytime you smoke-and I’m just talking hypothetically, you understand?”

“I understand.” Benny felt the need to say something just to slow Sal down a bit. The lawyer was like a runaway freight train.

“Anytime you smoke a high roller, all hell breaks loose. So to make a long story short, that’s why you ain’t gettin’ out of here anytime soon.”

“Gotcha. Anything else?” Benny had had his fill of Sal. This is who my old man entrusts my life to? I’m getting fucked all over again .

“Oh yeah. I just want to tell you I’ve got a plan to get you out of here. I’ve been over the public defender’s files in detail, and I see some things we can work with. I’m going to hire a world-famous medical examiner from California to testify on your behalf. I’ve used him before. He’s great. His name is Dr. Donald Wong-you may have heard of him. So don’t worry, we’re working on a defense for you.”

Those last words made Benny feel a little better. Sal had reviewed the files and actually had a plan. Benny’s cautious optimism wasn’t entirely unwarranted, either. As goofy as Sal was, he knew how to get people off.

“The thing is,” Sal cautioned, “getting this guy is going to take some time. Like I said, he’s a big shot. He’s got to clear his calendar not only to do his investigation but also to testify at trial. So you’re going to be in here for a while.”

“How long?” Benny asked.

“Six months to a year.”

Benny shrugged his shoulders. “I ain’t got nothing better to do,” he said.

Sal had Benny sign a bunch of papers before leaving, including a contract of representation and a waiver of speedy trial. The lawyer gave Benny some final words of encouragement before he left.

“And don’t worry about the death penalty. They got it in New York, but they never use it.”

Even though Charlie was back in town and he needed the time to prepare for Henry’s hearing, Jack decided to make the trip to Miami for Pat’s Monday morning chemotherapy treatment. Pat had not slept the night before and she was having severe pain again, which was unusual; her pain generally subsided when she started chemotherapy. Jack wanted to talk to Dr. Wright about it in person.

“This is not a good sign, Mr. Tobin,” Dr. Wright told him when he described Pat’s pain. “It means that the tumors are withstanding the chemotherapy and are growing again. We won’t know for certain until we do the scans, which are scheduled for next week. I’m going to prescribe ten milligrams of Oxycontin for her to take once a day, and I’m going to give you a prescription for Percocet, which you can give her anytime she has pain. I’ll be calling your local doctor to coordinate all this.”

“We don’t have a local doctor.”

“I have records from a local doctor who was treating your wife.”

“That would have been Dr. Hawthorne. We stopped going to him because he failed to realize that Pat had a serious problem, even though she was complaining of pain for nine months.”

Dr. Wright didn’t respond. Jack didn’t blame her. He was a lawyer, after all, and his words could easily be taken as a prelude to a lawsuit. “I’ll make a few calls today and find someone local for your wife. I think we’ll also set up her chemotherapy locally after next week. She doesn’t need to be making this trip. I’ll call you later this afternoon with your new doctor’s name.”

On the way home, Pat was almost giddy as she talked and laughed up a storm. The drugs did that to her. For Jack, considering what he had heard from the doctor that day, it seemed almost surreal.

Jack maintained a separate office in Bass Creek away from home, even though he no longer had any clerical help. He still liked the ritual of going to the office. It was quiet, and he could shut everything else out and do his work. He had four days left to prepare for Henry’s hearing.

On Tuesday night when he returned home, Pat was still in bed. He had come to expect this for the first couple of days after chemo, but when she was still in bed on Thursday, he began to worry.

“She’s not eating either,” Charlie told him. “I can barely get those protein drinks in her. She’s losing more weight.” By this time, all her hair had fallen out. Things were happening very fast, and Jack wasn’t sure what to do. Dr. Wright had given him the name of another local doctor, but they were scheduled to be in Miami on Monday and to see Dr. Wright then anyway.

“I think we’ll just do the best we can until Monday,” he told Charlie. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re right. She seems to be comfortable, and we probably wouldn’t be able to get an appointment with the local doctor before Monday.”

He called Judge Fletcher’s office and told her secretary the problem.

“I can’t start until Tuesday with my wife in her present condition. The judge has set aside the week for this hearing, but I don’t think it will last for more than three days anyway.”

“I’m sure the judge won’t have a problem with the delay, Mr. Tobin. So, unless you hear different from me in the next fifteen minutes, you can notify your witnesses that we’ll start on Tuesday.”

Next, Jack called Henry to let him know about Pat’s condition and the reason for the delay. Up to now, he had not told Henry about Pat’s cancer.

“Jack, I know you’ve had your reasons for not telling me about your wife’s condition. I even think I know what those reasons are. From now on, though, keep me abreast of everything. Pat told you to stick with me; now I’m telling you that her medical condition has priority over my hearing. I don’t care if you have to delay the hearing for a year, Jack-make sure Pat gets well.”

It was a long weekend. Pat did not get out of bed once, even though Charlie and Jack constantly encouraged her to do so. She wasn’t eating either. It was a chore just to get her to take a few sips of her protein drink through a straw.

“We’ve got to change something,” Jack told Charlie outside Pat’s room. “This particular chemotherapy treatment doesn’t seem to be working.”