The Attorney ✓( A White House occupants prequel)

Chapter Twenty Four

For those who haven't watched the trial, whether that was because of work or school- my closing statement must summarize the whole thing and more. It has to be perfect.

This thing has gone by much faster than anybody expected, though we knew it wouldn't take as long as the standard murder trial- since the main piece of evidence (the body cam footage) got leaked so early on(by us). Both sides have given our all's but one thing has become abundantly clear: Freddie Burrows's "All" is not adequate enough. During his questioning he kept stuttering, to the point some witnesses had to ask him to repeat himself. Now it would be one thing if he had a disability- plenty of lawyers do. The days of discrimination against that are long over- but he does not have one. His stuttering is due to him being unprepared and unfit to be working on this trial.

  Even Jake, who hired him, has rolled his eyes at a lot of the things he's said, knowing how doomed he is and how pointless it would have been to hire a new lawyer after the trial started.

  I pace across the tiny room, Noelle trying to coach me through this damn statement.

  "No- you want to annunciate the beginning, not the end of sentences. You'll sound more professional that way."

  "You didn't have a problem with the way I spoke the rest of this trial." I frown.

  "Yeah- because you and I both know this statement is what the defense will really hang on to." She rolls her eyes. "Joe, you've done amazing but this is a completely different ballpark. Want me to do it?"

  "No-" I quickly answer. "This is my case. I'll just wing it."

  "I'm not so sure that's the best idea-"

  "All participants in the Maxwell trial, please return to court now."

  "Looks like I'll have to anyways." I set the script down and push past her. She mumbles curse words under her breath repeatedly. I laugh. Apparently I can still get under her skin. So when we've reentered for the second to last time and she sits in the chair on the other side of the table instead of the one next to me, I'm not surprised. I do kind of deserve it.

  After I'm called up to make the statement, I glance back at her. Despite her still hating me she nods, because this is so much bigger than our little disagreements. I stand in front of the podium.

Behind me, I can almost feel the defense team glaring at the back of my head- and I picture a hole forming there, slowly making its way through my skull.

Somebody's family member- I'm not sure who, slides to get a closer look at my face, but for the most part the room is silent.

"I...." Now, I'm the one struggling with my words. But I don't let it last long. Instead, I take a deep breath and force myself to continue. "I am not going to draw this out like most attorneys. Instead, I will give you all the simplified, straight up facts of the case."

I gesture to the jury, who are all more alert than usual. I continue.

"In early January of this year, thirty one year old Zachariah Mathews was shot in the back while on a run in his neighborhood. He never had any problems doing this before- in fact he felt safe having headphones in because the community was gated. But the day he was murdered.... Jake Maxwell just so happened to be on patrol- because at a target nearby there was a robbery. The officer's defense team has repeatedly claimed that Maxwell was acting out of urgency, because with the way he grew up he was not used to, in their exact words - 'seeing successful black men in wealthy neighborhoods'. In the very beginning they also claimed that Zachariah matched the description of the robber- which we've proved to be false multiple times , and regardless- robbery is not a death sentence in this country. I... know there isn't much more I can say: because with the evidence, the verdict should be abundantly clear. I ask one thing of the jury when they look back and the evidence and deliberate: Listen. Pay attention to what you see and hear. I believe I'm done here."

"Okay then-" The judge brings his gavel down again. "We will...come back once the jury has had a chance to deliberate. As always- this may be thirty minutes or thirty days. You are all dismissed. Jury- stay."

I want to collapse right here at the table, lay my head down and take a nap. But somewhere in the back of my head, a voice pulls me out of it and forces me to go back to our little room. This time the family and sam do join us. We decide together that we will not leave until a decision is made, that we will not sleep either, regardless of how tired we are.

But about three hours later, when we haven't heard a word or gotten a call back- sam and Elizabeth have started to nod off. We all try to keep them awake, tapping their shoulders- but it's another hour before a ringtone snaps them out of it.

Nobody bothers to answer it because we know what it means. We shoot up, and the edges of my vision go black because of the low blood pressure from not eating as much as I should have.

Another few minutes later, we're in our places while members of the media trickle back in. My heart begins to beat a thousand miles an hour, so I try not to imagine what's going through the family's head right now. The judge brings his gavel down for a final time. Everything comes to a stop.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" He asks.

Silence. This is what true silence sounds like.

"Yes." One of them stands up.

"Well then?"

"We the jury....find Jake Maxwell....guilty on all four charges."