Jay Crownover - Charged

“Thanks, Townsend. I dressed up for you.”

The other man grunted in response and shifted his gaze to me. I wanted to squirm in my seat but repeated over and over again that I was pretending to have my act together today so I needed to sit still.

“You sure your client doesn’t want to take the plea deal? I thought the bosses were being generous when it came across my desk.”

I opened my mouth to snap that I hadn’t done anything, but then shut it just as quickly. Quaid was getting paid a minifortune to defend me, and I knew I would make a mess if I tried to defend myself, so I kept quiet and forced myself not to react to the other lawyer.

“It is a good deal … if she was guilty of committing a crime. Having bad taste in men and getting caught up with a junkie loser is not a punishable offense.” Quaid’s tone was icy and there was no missing that he wasn’t in the mood to banter with the other man.

“When that junkie loser robs a bar with an unregistered weapon and threatens the life of a cop, it is a punishable offense. She didn’t call the cops, Jackson, she didn’t do anything.”

I cringed and tore my gaze away from their intense standoff. She didn’t do anything … I never did and it forever haunted me. It lingered around me like a black cloud. Nothing was just as bad as participating in a crime; at least, that was the way it felt. Nothing could linger heavy and thick until you couldn’t breathe through it, and I’d been gasping for air for a very long time.

“Again, Townsend, doing nothing is not a crime.” It might not be a crime, but the punishment that came with doing nothing might be worse than the punishment that came along with actually committing a crime.

“We’ll see if the judge agrees with you or not.” The other man skulked his way back to the other side of the room. Shortly after the exchange, the court bailiff told us all to rise and an older man, in billowing robes, entered the room and took his place at the bench. The court recorder read my case number and the charges that I was facing, then we all had to say our names clearly for the record.

The judge said a curt hello to both Quaid and the other attorney, and without any preamble, the other man launched into why the State thought I should be behind bars. Just like Quaid warned, all my dirty laundry was dragged out and laid flat for everyone to see. The DUI charge I’d recently bargained down, the bar fight that had resulted in a trip to the police station all because I was drunk and thought the other girl was trying to hit on Jared. The trespassing from when I jumped the fence at a resort to go skinny-dipping with some boy in a band that I met at a bar. All of it in its twisted, torn, and ragged glory. Every bad choice and mistake I had ever made there to be judged and weighed. Every instance I had taken the opportunity to do the wrong thing because I didn’t deserve to do the right thing. It was rough, but I sat silently, unflinchingly, and refused to look away from the judge, who had his eyes locked firmly on me.

“We also have a witness that will happily testify that Ms. Walker was fired, from the very bar she is accused of helping rob, for stealing. The same witness will testify that Ms. Walker was angry her father sold the bar, the bar she felt belonged to her and should stay in the family, so she concocted the plan for the robbery out of revenge.”

Quaid stood up and put his hands on the table in front of him. “Seriously, Townsend? Are you going to disclose to the court that your witness is a known drug user? Do you plan to clue the court in to the fact that you are in the midst of pressing charges against said witness for armed robbery and endangering the welfare of a police officer? What kind of deal did you offer this witness to testify against my client, Counselor?” I finally pulled my gaze away from the impossible-to-read judge and looked at my attorney.

There was a hard line of tension in his arms and along the line of his back. He was angry on my behalf. The little crush I was working on building towards him bloomed into full-blown infatuation. My dad had been the only man in my life to fight for me, so to have this man, this polished, seemingly perfect man, take my back, regardless of the fact he was doing it for a paycheck, still warmed me to my toes.

“Mr. Jackson, you will get your turn to argue against the State’s case soon. Please refrain from those kinds of outbursts in my courtroom. You know better.”

Chastised and clearly annoyed by it, Quaid sat back down next to me and shot me a look. It was full of heat and turmoil, so it was my turn to tilt my head in reassurance, and even though I’m sure he thought it was an accident, I let my elbow brush against his like he had done at the arraignment. We were in this together, after all.

After the prosecutor was done talking, the judge took his time looking at the paperwork scattered in front of him and then turned back to the other attorney.

“I’m assuming there’s a deal on the table since I’ve seen the tape from the parking lot, and it makes it very clear Ms. Walker was not at the establishment of her own free will.”

The prosecutor visibly stiffened and cleared his throat. “The district attorney did offer a deal, Your Honor. Ms. Walker turned it down. We feel like we have a solid enough case to take this to trial.”

The judge didn’t say anything and looked at Quaid, who climbed to his feet. “Your client is aware of what happens if she turns down the deal and takes her chances with a jury, Mr. Jackson?”

“She is, Your Honor. The fact of the matter is she didn’t know Jared Dalton was going to rob the bar that night. She didn’t know he had a gun, and when he told her his plan, she tried to exit the car, and we all know what happened.” He looked at me. “Ms. Walker was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and is paying a remarkably high price for hooking her wagon to the wrong guy. You put me in front of a jury with her and you know as well as I do that they’re going to see a pretty, young woman who’s made some mistakes but none as bad as sticking around in an abusive relationship with an addict. That video is damning, but so is the witness testimony I’ll bring forth. It will attest to the fact she showed up to work with black eyes, and will also state that everyone that witnessed the two of them together knew Jared was bad news. Not to mention the fact, the State’s witness is being investigated on trafficking charges, on top of the armed robbery charges. When he was shot during the commission of the crime, it seems he got real chatty while he was in the hospital recovering. Offered the cops a lot of info in search of a deal. Avett Walker is a victim, not a perpetrator.”

I wasn’t a victim; I was a glutton for punishment and I had my reasons to be that way, but the judge didn’t know that. He shifted his attention to me and I swallowed hard.

“Ms. Walker.” I got shakily to my feet as Quaid put a hand on my arm and pulled me upwards.

“Yes, Your Honor?”

“What exactly happened that night?”

I felt my knees start to quiver and my heart thudded heavily in my ears. “I, uh …” I started to stutter and had to clear my throat. I curled my hands into my fists and told myself to be honest. All the ugly was already out, so it couldn’t make it any prettier or any messier with the truth. “Jared had left town for a while. He owed his supplier a bunch of money, which was why I was stealing from the bar. It was stupid. It was desperate, but I did it because I thought I was helping someone that cared about me.” My voice cracked a little and I realized Quaid hadn’t let go of my arm because he gave it a gentle squeeze.

“While he was gone, some guys showed up looking for him. They, uh …” My voice drifted off again and I had to close my eyes and brace myself to get through the rest. “They broke into the place we were staying and roughed me up.” It had almost been so much worse, but thank goodness Jared’s landlady was a nosy old bat that had heard the ruckus and showed up in the nick of time. “When Jared came back to town and found me all messed up, he told me he was going to make it right, that he had a safe place we could go. He hustled me into the car, told me he had to make one quick stop, and the next thing I knew we were at the bar.”