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Collin’s smile widened. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much!”
* * *
An hour later, the two were on their way to the Lew Sterrett Justice Center of Dallas. Despite his offer to drive, London has insisted on taking her own car, so he settled back against the leather seats of her SUV and tried to enjoy the ride. He’d tried to pull the woman into conversation, but London wasn’t interested in talking. He’d listened as she’d taken phone calls, the Bluetooth connection echoing through the car interior. Then she’d hummed along with the radio, completely lost in her own thoughts. By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the correctional facility she’d done everything imaginable to keep from conversing with him.
“Are you always so rude?” he asked.
London shut down the car engine as she turned toward him, the question surprising her. Because she had been rude. She just hadn’t expected to be called out on it and there was no way she could explain to the man that he had her feeling like a high schooler with her first crush. She took a deep breath. “Excuse me?”
“Rude. Are you always so rude?”
“I didn’t realize...”
“You have gone out of your way not to speak with me despite my efforts to talk to you and maybe discuss the case. You’ve talked to your secretary, some friend named Joan and your mother. But you’ve barely said three words to me since we left the office.”
London’s eyes danced across his face. Something she didn’t recognize surged through the pit of her stomach, like an electric current stuck on high. “I apologize. It was never my intent to be rude to you.”
“Except you were.”
She took another deep breath, filling her lungs with air and then blowing it out slowly. Her gaze was still flitting back and forth over the intense stare he was giving her. “Why are you here?” she suddenly asked, an air of attitude in her tone. “What are you trying to prove?”
His brow shifted upward. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m just trying to do the best job I can.”
“But why here? There are hundreds of attorneys who apply and are denied, and you slide in on your family name and no doubt a big donation from Mommy and Daddy. You barely have any litigation experience under your belt!” She threw her hands up in frustration.
Collin bristled, the comment hitting a nerve he hadn’t known he possessed. There was no denying that the Stallion name opened doors that might have otherwise been closed. Although he had never purposely used his family connections to garner favor, admittedly it did happen sometimes. But when challenged, he was more than capable of holding his own against the naysayers. He shifted his gaze from hers, finally breaking the connection that he’d been holding with no effort.
A moment passed between them before he answered. “So maybe I do have something to prove. Maybe it’s about what I’m able to accomplish, in spite of my name. I like to think I’m a good attorney, even with my limited experience, and I’m here because I believe in what the firm stands for. I want to help, and I had hoped to be able to do that without people judging me before they took the time to know me.”
London suddenly felt foolish. Her eyes flitted back and forth, and she struggled to find the words to apologize and not dig herself into an even bigger hole. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, her tone dropping low. “You’re right. I should not have judged you. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to start over.” She extended her hand to shake his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Attorney Stallion. I look forward to our working together.”
Collin smiled sweetly as he gripped her fingers against his palm. He gave her a slight nod of his head. “Thank you, Counselor. I appreciate that. I know I can learn a lot from you and I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
* * *
With his court case pending, their client had been transferred from the state’s maximum-security prison in Ferguson, Texas, to the county jailhouse in Dallas. Back in his day, Jerome James had been a popular community activist, known for frequently going toe-to-toe with local law enforcement. His frequent protests and rallies against the legal vanguard he alleged was corrupt and immoral had made him more enemies than friends.
When he hadn’t been fighting for the rights of those most marginalized and disenfranchised, he’d been a respected automotive repair technician working at a local garage. He had also been a loving husband and father, living a blessed life, with the house, dog and picket fence. Things had turned for him when his wife, a beloved schoolteacher, was found murdered in their bed. He’d been convicted of that murder, despite more evidence pointing to his innocence than his guilt. It had been a miscarriage of justice of monumental proportions.
Collin had studied the detailed police reports. The couple had just celebrated their twelfth wedding anniversary. They were also anxiously awaiting the birth of their third child. James had left for work early that day, kissing his wife goodbye as she’d slept. Later that morning, Mary James’s body was found in their bedroom. She’d been sexually assaulted and bludgeoned to death. Despite no tangible evidence, the prosecution had argued he’d raped and murdered his wife after an argument. Months later, James had been convicted of the crime, sentenced to life in prison with no possibility of parole. Years of appeals and a mountain of discovery had since turned up potentially exculpatory evidence pointing to Mr. James’s innocence that the prosecution had concealed. Now Jerome James was getting a second chance at justice.
Collin hadn’t known what to expect as they checked in and proceeded through the prison’s inner maze to the visiting room where they waited for their client. London had briefed him on the case’s procedural tactics that she had been personally involved in overseeing, and there was an air of pride in her voice as she detailed the decisions she’d been proudest of making.
“Our original motion for DNA testing on items of evidence from the crime scene omitted a bloody towel that had been found in the woods behind the family home. Unfortunately, those tests could not exclude Mr. Jerome as the source of the DNA collected from the bed.”
“Why was the towel not included?”
“A previous attorney on the case missed adding it to the evidence list when the motion was filed.”
“And that was three years ago, correct?”
“Yes, the motion that was filed most recently includes that towel and I’m willing to bet the tests will prove conclusively that he didn’t harm his wife. That someone else was present in the family bed.”
Before Collin could respond, the heavy iron door swung open and Jerome James was ushered inside. He was a big bear of a man, years of prison yard work and cell-block weight training having sculpted his body into hard lean muscle. With his salt-and-pepper hair and full beard, he looked very distinguished, and entered with an air of confidence that actually surprised Collin. He gave the younger man a nod, eyeing him with interest.
The guard gestured for him to take a seat, and after securing his handcuffs to the chain bolted in the center of the table, he exited the room and closed the door behind him. Mr. James shifted his gaze toward London.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Jacobs. To what do I owe the honor? I was actually surprised when they moved me.”
London sat down, placing her hands atop his. “You’ve been granted a new trial, Mr. James. The state of Texas has set aside your original verdict and we’re going to be able to present your case with the evidence that wasn’t included in the first trial.”
Mr. James said nothing, seeming to ponder the information for a good few minutes. Then he nodded his head and turned his attention on Collin. “And who might you be, young man?”
Collin dropped into the seat beside London. “Collin Stallion, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Collin will be sitting second chair on your case,” London interjected. “He just recently joined the Pro Bono Partnership.”
“Where’d you go to school?” Mr. James questioned.
“I graduated from Harvard, sir.”
“Why didn’t you go to a historically black college or university? Our HBCUs don’t get nearly enough recognition or love.”
“Legacy, sir. Both my parents were Harvard alum.”
The old man eyed him intently. “Stallion? Who’s your father, son?”
“Matthew Stallion, sir.”
There was a moment as Mr. James appeared to be searching his thoughts. After a minute or two of reflection he simply nodded his head. He turned his attention back to London. “Would you please get a message to my son? Tell him I’m here, please. Hopefully, he’ll be able to come see me now that I’m closer.”
“We can call your daughter, too, if you’d like,” London said.
The man shook his head. “My Jackie lives in New York now. She has a good job with some fashion company there. I don’t want y’all upsetting her. I’m sure her brother will tell her whatever needs to be told.”
“Yes, sir,” London said. “Do you have any questions for us, Mr. James?”
He shook his head, his expression blank.
London nodded. Rising from her seat, she knocked on the door, and the guard responded almost immediately. “We will probably be back sometime early next week,” she said. “If you need anything before then, just call.”
Mr. James nodded. “Just get that message to my son. I don’t need anything else.”
The guard gestured for them to leave. Mr. James called after Collin.
“Yes, sir?”
“Please, tell your father hello for me.”
* * *
“He wasn’t excited,” Collin said, the words spoken aloud before he could catch them.
London cut an eye in his direction.
He eyed her back, his shoulders shrugging slightly. “I thought he would have been more excited.”
She blew a soft sigh. “The first time I met him I thought the same thing. But when you think about it, for the last thirty-two years he’s known nothing but disappointment. His wife dies. He’s barely able to grieve before he’s being accused of her murder. The trial was a travesty. He’s convicted and incarcerated. He loses his children. Every countermotion his defense team made either failed or was rejected. And now we’re going to make him relive it all again, with no assurances of a different outcome. Unfortunately, he’s a black man in a judicial system that doesn’t value his life. When you consider the odds are stacked against him, and us, he can’t afford to be excited. If we lose, he could very well be given the lethal injection this time.”
Collin nodded. “Sounds like you and I have our work cut out.”
“You and I will not lose this case and I don’t care what it takes,” she said emphatically.
He met the look she tossed him, her eyes slightly misted. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he said.
“I haven’t eaten anything today,” she said. “If you don’t have plans, why don’t we grab some lunch? I know you’ve been through most of the files already and I can answer your questions and fill in any blanks for you.”
“I’d like that,” Collin said. “I would like that a lot.”
She smiled. “Don’t get too excited, Stallion. I plan to grill you, too. I need to see what you do and don’t know.”
* * *
His father was in his office poring over a mountain of paperwork when Collin entered the family home. It was late, and his mother and brother were already in bed. Matthew looked up from what he was doing and gave his son a quick nod of his head.
“Hey there! You’re keeping some late hours!”
“Working on a case. There’s a lot to catch up on.”
Matthew leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together in his lap. “So, how are things going with your new job?”
“I like it. I really like it a lot. Met my client today. Apparently, he knows you. He asked me to tell you hello.”
“Really? Who is he?”
“Jerome James. He’s been incarcerated for the murder of his wife. He’s been granted a new trial and I’m going to be sitting second chair.”
Matthew’s eyes dropped as he fell into thought. When he looked back up Collin was eyeing him curiously. He gave his son a slight smile. “Jerome and his wife, Mary, went to school with us. Jerome graduated with your uncle John and Mary graduated with me. Back in the day we were big supporters of the causes Jerome took up. Even marched the streets with him a time or two. He was a good man. Everything about that case was tragic.”
“The case file reads like a witch hunt.”
“The racial climate back then was rough, and Jerome loved to make waves. He was not popular with the local police or the politicians. He wanted change and he fought hard to make that happen. Remind me, who was the original prosecutor?”
“Victor Wells.”
“Newly appointed Texas Supreme Court Justice Victor Wells?”
Collin nodded. “The one and only. Do you know him?”
Matthew nodded. A look of foreboding washed over his expression. The same look that Collin had seen on London’s face when they had first discussed the case and Wells’s name had been mentioned. It had given Collin pause and when he’d asked about it she’d dismissed him, insisting that there wasn’t anything amiss that he needed to be concerned with. “Yes, I do,” Matthew finally answered.
“Is there something about Justice Wells that I should know?” Collin questioned.
Matthew hesitated for a quick second as if there was more that he wanted to say, but he didn’t elaborate. He just shook his head no.
“Any advice?”
“Just be smart and make sure you do your due diligence. And no matter what happens, do not be intimidated.”
Collin nodded as his father continued.
“Who’s your first chair?” Matthew asked.
“Attorney London Jacobs. She’s been with the initiative for a few years and litigating their big cases for the last two years.” Collin’s eyes were bright, his entire face lifting with the smile that spread from ear to ear. He thought back to his day and the shift in her attitude toward him between breakfast and lunch. She’d been exceptionally open and forthcoming as they’d discussed the case. She’d asked his opinion and had seemed genuinely interested in his answers. An encounter that had started out tensely had transitioned nicely to a pleasant exchange.
Matthew smiled back. “I know Ms. Jacobs. She’s quite impressive. Jerome will be well served.”
“I think we’re going to be a great team,” Collin said, a hint of excitement in his tone.
His father nodded, his head bobbing up and down slowly. He stared at his oldest child but said nothing, bemusement painting his expression.
“What?” Collin asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
Matthew shook his head. “Nothing, son. Nothing at all.”
Chapter 3 (#u982d8f8e-7b54-5b46-aa84-790bf12d6c98)
London was pleasantly surprised by Collin’s work ethic. He asked questions she hadn’t expected, even giving her reason to pause as she pondered a few of his suggestions. He was formidable, and it was apparent he was as dedicated to Mr. James’s interests as she was.
She hadn’t expected to like him as much as she did. She found herself looking forward to seeing him when she arrived at the office. Since that first lunch, they’d eaten lunch together a few times, that hour of personal time quickly becoming the highlight of her day.
When he burst through the door of her office, his excitement was palpable. “We got the DNA tests back!” he exclaimed, waving the file over his head. He passed her the manila folder, reciting the results as she flipped through the documents. “According to the lab, the DNA on the towel belonged to Mary James and an unknown male. It was also a perfect match to the DNA from the sperm left on the bedsheets. They’re running it through the CODIS database now to see if we can get a hit and hopefully a name. Keep your fingers crossed, but I think we just got the big break in the case we needed.”
London pumped a fist, her own excitement spreading across her face. She squealed with glee, resisting the urge to throw herself into his arms and jump for joy. “Yes, yes, yes!” she exclaimed. “Make sure you add this to our evidence list. We’ll need to send copies over to the prosecutor’s office, as well. Full disclosure. I don’t want them making any claims about our impeding their due process.”
“I already took care of it,” he answered. “I also filed a Public Information Act request. I want to get a look at what other documents were in the prosecution’s file that might have been withheld at the time of his trial.”
“You think there’s something there that can help us?”
“I don’t know. It’s just a gut feeling I have.”
London nodded. “I trust your instincts, Counselor.”
Collin crossed his arms over his broad chest. “A compliment. I’m touched!”
London laughed, “An attorney with jokes!”
“One or two,” he teased.
