Wandering Ends A Flash Fiction Collection

The Dirt Bag's Lawyer

Mac had just finished decimating the prosecutor's case leading him to his biggest victory to date. He exited the federal courthouse with his jet black, slicked-back hair and the finest shit-eating grin anyone had ever seen. The media cameras flashed all around him. He looked like a million bucks. The dirt bag's lawyer, a title the media gave him, felt like a star for the moment. Even with rotten tomatoes, eggs, and all other sorts of debris flying his way, his flashy white teeth sparkled into the camera like a movie star; he seemed unfazed by the commotion, he actually seemed to relish it.

By his demeanor, you would have thought he had been winning like this for years. You might have even thought he was big-league. However, for those that knew him, they knew he had been living out of his car for at least a year and he had not won a case, which mattered anyways, in at least five years. He represented the most disgusting of the disgusting. Criminals so disturbing their own mothers wished them to hell. They had no cash, no collateral; they had nothing to offer. His clients were broke, so he was broke.

Today, though, he was a star. His client was guilty as all hell but on a technicality and a little bit of coercion, he utterly devastated the prosecution's whole case. Because of his win, he would go home a millionaire. Since his client's assets, legally, could not be seized, he was finally getting a payday. His client, Victor "The Vulture" Killoway, promised him a cool mil if he won the case. Of course, there was little hope of a victory from the beginning. Mac pulled it off though and tonight he was going to celebrate.

The press was shouting questions left and right so Mac took a moment to answer a few.

"How are you going to live with yourself knowing you put a sick, disgusting, and obviously guilty man back on the streets today?" Screamed the reporter who was shoving a microphone in his face.

"Well, that's easy, my payday. Moreover, he was found to be innocent by a jury of fellow citizens who were brought here to serve justice. They found there was no justice to serve so he is a free man who must not have been as obviously guilty as you thought he was!" Mac retorted with the pure contempt for the long-legged beauty of a reporter.

"How can you say..." A violent explosion at the doors of the courthouse cut off the next reporter's voice. Mac looked around nervously, temporarily deafened by the explosion. He could see people screaming, running for safety but he froze from shock. A leg landed in front of him, his stomach lurched, and he just barely managed to keep the last of his undigested lunch down. He turned his attention from the leg to the streets where hundreds of people were fleeing, some being mowed down by the traffic fleeing the chaotic scene.

Mac finally started to snap out of the shock. He began to walk down the long steps to the sidewalk when three heavily armed men came rushing up the steps. They raised their guns in unison, fired and hit their target. He felt the two bullets lodge into his ribcage and tear through his backside but he never felt the bullet that lodged into his frontal cortex. His death was instant. So was his client's death whose leg was lying underneath his crumpled and lifeless body.