Chapter 24
CHAPTER
Bria Gaines
UNION SPRINGS, ALABAMA
Unbelievable.
Friday morning, 11:55. Bria stepped into the reception area of her office after another slow morning, keys in hand. She was ready to lock up and go home.
There he stood, inside her office. Bold as brass, wearing another expensive suit. That arrogant lawyer, Benjamin Meyers.
He flashed that big smile at her. “Surprised to see me again?”
Was she? Maybe not. He’d been calling nonstop for the past few days.
But she hadn’t expected to see her lawyer—Chuck Rich, the defense attorney she’d formally retained—standing directly beside him.
Bria addressed Chuck, because it was clear that Benjamin Meyers wouldn’t listen to her. “Chuck, would you please tell this man to leave? And to quit calling. I told him on Monday, I already hired a lawyer.”
Chuck just stood there, while Benjamin said, “Just give me five minutes.”
Bria took care to sound firm, decided. “Nope. Sorry. I don’t have five minutes.”
Meyers put his hand over his heart. “You can’t spare me five minutes? Really? What are you afraid of?”
Bria wouldn’t confess it. But when he came to her home on Monday, Benjamin Meyers’s words scared her. Especially the part about trusting her lawyer with her life.
Still, she had no cause to place any trust in him. He’d done nothing to earn her regard. The man was from out of town, a total stranger. Plus, he was white. Not an automatic disqualifier. After all, Chuck was a white man. But it wasn’t a trait that inspired immediate confidence.
“You have to go.” Making sure she didn’t convey any doubt, she appealed to her lawyer a second time. “Chuck, please tell this guy y’all are leaving. Now.”
Chuck lifted his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “I think we ought to hear him out. He’s come all this way, Bria, from his office in Atlanta.”
“Atlanta?” Bria almost sputtered when she spoke. “You never told me you were from Atlanta!”
Meyers said, “You didn’t give me a chance to tell you much of anything.”
“Oh, great—that’s all I need. Some out-of-state lawyer who lives three hours away from here. Are you even licensed to practice in Alabama?”
“Would I be standing here if I wasn’t licensed to practice in Alabama courts?”
“Hell, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you.” It was beyond belief that some white stranger would feel compelled to come across the state line to save her. She turned to Chuck again, willing him to step up. “Chuck, we don’t know this guy.”
Chuck said, “I want you to listen to him, Bria.”
Her shoulders sagged. She couldn’t keep on fighting; it was wearing her out. “Okay,” she said, walking over to the waiting room chairs that lined the wall. She dropped into one of the seats, slumped down in it. “You can have five minutes.”
An old-fashioned wall clock hung behind the reception desk. She took note of the time as Chuck sat next to her. It was 12:03. At 12:08, she would toss him out.
Meyers walked to the middle of the room. “I’m going to make an opening statement. For your criminal trial. It’s a rough version of what I’d say in the courtroom.”
Bria shrugged. “Okay. Go ahead.”
He didn’t launch into the speech immediately. He took some time, maybe thirty seconds. In that span of half a minute, she watched him undergo a transformation. Physical changes in his posture, demeanor, expression. Bria was glued to the spectacle, couldn’t look away.
He made eye contact. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I’d like to thank you for your service in this trial. You know, Abraham Lincoln said, ‘The greatest service of citizenship is jury duty.’”
Brief pause. In a wry tone, he added, “You notice, President Lincoln didn’t say anything about jury duty being convenient. Or easy. Or lucrative.”
Okay, Bria thought. That was funny. It took some effort to keep a straight face. Which, considering the circumstances, was preposterous. Crazy.
After the icebreaker, he segued to the next part. He talked about the burden of proof, how it was the State’s job to prove Bria guilty, and not Bria’s job to prove herself innocent.
Bria knew all that, was certainly aware. However, she suspected that the average citizen of Union Springs might be unaware of those basic precepts of criminal justice. She thought it was probably wise to give a reminder.
“You watch out for that DA, for how he tries to frame this case. What did he just try to tell you in his opening statement? ‘This is a simple case,’ he said. The sheer insolence of that statement shocks the conscience! The man presumes to characterize a case of this magnitude as ‘simple’? Oh, no complexity here—is that right, Mr. DA? Not like we’re talking about the rights of women, or women’s bodily autonomy, or their reproductive health, or the future of medicine, or right to privacy and constitutional guarantees.
The DA would have you believe that none of those crucial issues are present in this case. ”
While she listened, Bria started nodding, though she was barely conscious of the movement. It was as if he’d cast a spell, demanding her acquiescence. And getting it, too.
He stepped closer. “The DA told you that the defendant in this case is Dr. Bria Gaines, but he left out a lot of pertinent information. Facts that you need to know about Bria. Bria Gaines was born in Tuscaloosa to a family with seven kids. Her mama and daddy stressed academic excellence, and Bria was top of her class all the way from K through 12 in Tuscaloosa public schools. Valedictorian of her senior class, and she got a full ride to Xavier University of Louisiana, in New Orleans. After graduating with highest honors—summa cum laude—she was accepted into medical school, University of Alabama at Birmingham.”
Bria was surprised that he knew so many specifics. The man had done his homework.
“She could’ve remained in Birmingham, where there are lots of attractions for young people.
Could have left the state of Alabama, gone back to New Orleans, or anywhere, to go into practice.
What did she choose to do? She looked for a community in dire need of a family doctor.
Found it right here in Union Springs, Alabama, and set up her office.
Just think what she has done for your community since she arrived.
The changes she’s made in access and quality of health care.
Care for children, the poor, the elderly.
“Let’s consider the State’s case for a minute. Did y’all listen when the DA talked about his State’s witnesses? He named Nova Jones, we all heard that. And he mentioned that she was pregnant at thirteen. But it seemed like he glossed over a crucial fact.”
The mention of the name Nova Jones made her chest tighten. Bria was devastated to know that the girl was forced to endure unrelenting public scrutiny. As a doctor, she was worried about Nova’s health and welfare, and the toll that the case would have on the child.
It was a weird jumble of emotions. Confusing, sometimes, to feel overwhelming sympathy and concern for the prosecution witness whose testimony would send her to prison.
The lawyer was still giving his speech. Wearing a thoughtful expression, Meyers raised his index finger, shook it at the ceiling.
“When a thirteen-year-old girl becomes pregnant, there’s a story there.
Not a love story. Not Cinderella at the ball.
No happily-ever-after. Y’all know this is true.
A tragic fact of life. Did the DA bother to tell you that story? Ladies and gentlemen, he did not.”
He took a breath and released it before he said, “What else is he keeping from you?”
Bria had heard enough. He hadn’t finished his opening statement, but she was impressed. He’d shown what he could do. The man was good. Really good. She felt obliged to be up-front with him.
She needed to be direct. He had just started up again when she interrupted him.
“Mr. Meyers, you’re extremely talented, there’s no question about that. And you’ve clearly done your homework. But the idea of handing over this case, and my life, my fate, to a complete stranger? It scares me.”
She turned to Chuck, sitting in the seat beside her. “Chuck, you’re the first friend I made when I moved to town. I know you’re sincerely dedicated to helping people with legal problems. I admire that. I trust you to have my best interest at heart.”
Bria’s life had been upended. She didn’t want to go to prison, God knows; she wanted the best representation she could afford. But she had to cling to the true friends who stood by her.
He smiled at her, a rueful grin. Chuck said, “We’re good friends, Bria, and I’m proud to have your trust. So you should trust me when I tell you, you need to let me withdraw so you can hire this guy.”
She glanced from Chuck to Meyers, and back to Chuck again. Her friend said, “I’m dead serious.”
That did it.
Bria rose from her seat, extended her hand to Meyers. When he gripped it in a firm handshake, she said, “Okay, Mr. Meyers. If you really want this hopeless case, it’s yours.”
He was smiling at her again. It made Bria feel edgy. She said, “I don’t even know if I can afford you.”
Meyers said, “I’d take your case for nothing. Do it for free.”
And the crazy thing about that? He actually sounded like he meant it.