James Sheehan - The Law of Second Chances

“I don’t need you to babysit me anymore,” Jack told Henry that Friday night when Henry showed up for the weekend. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” Henry replied, surprised by Jack’s feistiness but reassured by it as well. “That’s not the reason I’m here. You know, Pat was right. This place gets in your bones. Besides, I like to fish.”

They spent most of their weekends fishing out on the lake in the Sea Ray. Henry usually piloted the boat on the trip out while Jack prepared the fishing gear.

“Not too many black folks driving a boat like this,” Henry had remarked one morning when he was getting looks from some of the other boat pilots on the river.

“They would really be envious if they knew you could buy a whole fleet of these boats.” Jack laughed.

“Yeah. They’d probably vote all those legislators out of office if they found out where I got the money.”

“I don’t think so, Henry. I think most people would think you deserved the money.”

“That’s where you and I differ, Jack.”

The following Saturday the weather was bad and they decided not to go out on the water. Jack was in the kitchen eating and Henry was reading a book in the living room when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Henry yelled as he headed for the door.

A short, stocky, middle-aged man was standing there. He was dressed a little too warmly for the weather.

“Can I help you?” Henry asked.

“Yes, I’m looking for Jack Tobin. Am I at the right address?”

“Yeah, you are,” Henry told him. “Why don’t you come in?”

The man followed Henry from the foyer to the living room. “Have a seat,” Henry said, motioning to the couch. The man had no sooner sat down than Jack walked in. He stood up to introduce himself.

“Jack Tobin?”

“Yes.”

The man stuck out his hand, a smile on his face. “I’m Luis Melendez.”

Jack didn’t recognize the name. “What can I do for you, Mr. Melendez?”

“A long time ago you offered to help me, and I didn’t take your offer. In a way, I think I’m still paying for that decision. So I decided to come and ask for your help.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Melendez, I don’t remember you. I try to remember all my former clients, but your name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Oh, I’m not a former client,” the man replied.

Jack was totally confused. “Then how do we know each other?”

“Do you remember the Lexingtons football team when you were a teenager?”

“Yes, of course,” Jack replied, still puzzled. “I played for them.”

“So did I,” the man said. “I went by the nickname Rico back then.”

Jack studied the man’s face. It took his brain a few seconds to race back thirty years. He remembered Rico, the tough, skinny Puerto Rican who had taken him under his wing. He looked at the man in front of him. Time had not been gracious to Rico.

He extended his right hand and touched the man’s shoulder with his left. “Rico, is it really you? God, it’s been so long. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize your name right away. I’ve been in a little bit of a funk lately. Sit. Sit. Can I get you some coffee?”

“Sure. Just a little milk, no sugar. Thanks.”

“I’ll get it,” Henry told Jack. “You guys obviously have some catching up to do.”

They were already back in the sixties when Henry brought Rico’s coffee to him. Jack was sitting next to Rico on the couch.

“I remember that championship game like it was yesterday,” Jack was telling Rico. “That kick!”

“Yeah. Jimmy Walsh came through for us, didn’t he?” Rico replied.

“ You came through for us, Rico. You created the new kicking team. You taught me to be a holder in, what, two weeks?” Rico didn’t say anything.

“You know, Rico,” Jack continued, “I took a lot of stuff I learned in that season with me in my life-stuff you taught me. Things like hard work, never giving up, always staying focused. I wanted to thank you a million times, but I never knew where you were.”

“I was a lot of places, Jack, some of them not such good places.”

“Well, you’re here now, so I can finally say thanks.”

“You’re welcome, Jack. But I didn’t come here for that.”

“I know,” Jack replied. “It sounds like you’ve got a problem, Rico-I mean Luis. Why don’t you tell me about it.”

Luis looked over at Henry, who was sitting across from him, and then back at Jack.

“It’s okay,” Jack said. “Henry is my investigator. You can say anything in front of him that you say to me. We’re a team.”

“Are you the guy Jack saved from death row here in Florida?” Luis asked.

“Yes, I am,” Henry replied. “How did you know about that?”

“I read an article in the New York Times about Jack and your case. That’s kinda how I eventually came to look for Jack.”

Henry nodded. He’d brought the article to Jack’s attention soon after his release. It was in the New York Times Magazine , and Jack’s picture was on the cover. Under it was the caption, “The Lone Ranger-the lawyer who fights for the condemned.” The story was all about Jack and his career, but a significant part of it covered Henry’s case. There was even a picture of Henry and Jack sitting at counsel table when they appeared before Judge Fletcher. Henry remembered Jack’s remark at the time: “Great. Now I’m going to have all kinds of people knocking on my door.”

Luis Melendez had been the first one to knock.

“It’s my son,” Luis continued. “He’s in a New York jail, charged with murder.”

“Your son? Murder? Knowing you, Luis, that’s hard to believe.”

“Well, unfortunately, I wasn’t the person you knew for many years of my life, Jack.”

Luis told Jack and Henry all about his life after football. “When Floyd was killed, I fell apart. I was angry. I felt guilty. If I had kept my mouth shut and if I’d let you help us, maybe we could have gotten out of going to Vietnam. Anyway, I was still in ’Nam, so I was scared too. I started smoking dope and eventually shooting heroin.”

Luis told them he had met a girl when he came back to the States, also a heroin addict, and how they’d hooked up and eventually had a kid-Benny.

“I don’t know how we did it, but we were together for two years after Benny was born. Then it fell apart completely. She just disappeared. It took me another ten years to get clean. Then I tried to find her and Benny. Her mother finally told me that Benny had been taken from her by the state and she eventually died of an overdose. Still, I couldn’t find Benny-until I saw his picture in the paper.”

“Didn’t you look in the foster care program?” Jack asked. It was the same question Benny had asked.

“Not at first. It’s hard to explain. Once you’ve been in the system-and I spent a few years in prison-you don’t even think about asking questions of the state for fear they’ll start looking at you again. When I got my feet under me and had enough confidence to go look, it was too late. Benny was gone.”

“Have you talked to Benny-explained these things to him?”

“I’ve tried, Jack. But Benny apparently had a horrible experience in foster care and he blames me for it.”

“I know about that experience,” Henry added.

“So what can I do for you, Luis?” Jack had an idea, but he wanted to hear it from Luis.

“My son’s attorney was murdered about six months ago, on the day of trial. The trial was held up while the state tried to determine if the murder had anything to do with his representation of Benny. They finally decided that he was probably killed by a loan shark named Beano Moffit. Although they haven’t arrested Moffit or even charged him, they’ve reset my son’s trial. And a public defender is representing him. Jack, I came to ask if you would consider being my son’s lawyer.”