ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟛𝟛 #3
I found myself slowing my pace without realizing it.
Savannah glanced back, probably at the speed of my walk. "You've been here before?"
"No, not this part."
"It takes some getting used to."
"I can imagine."
She stopped outside a large walnut door.
A small brass plaque read: Honorable Samuel Johnson
Samuel.
So his name was Samuel. That felt strange- Judge Johnson fit him better.
Emily knocked twice. "Judge?"
"Come in."
"Mrs. West." She opened the door.
"Thank you." I gave her a small smile before stepping inside.
Judge Johnson stood from behind his desk almost immediately.
He wore a black suit with a navy tie.
Several thick case files covered one side of his desk while maps, photographs, and legal transcripts occupied basically every available surface.
You would've thought someone like him was more organized.
"Dixie."
"Judge." I nodded.
We shook hands. His grip was firm.
"I'm glad you came."
"I wasn't doing much else."
"As I suspected," He gestured toward one of the chairs. "Please."
I sat. He remained standing another few seconds before walking toward one of the file cabinets.
"I appreciate you coming on such short notice."
"Well, you sounded serious."
"I am."
He carried three folders back to the desk. Each one landed with a dull thud.
"I've continued reviewing the Justin Deyes file."
I nodded. "I assumed."
"I've reviewed every witness interview, every supplemental report, and every transcript." He opened the first folder.
"I've also requested documents that weren't introduced during the trial."
I frowned. "Weren't introduced?"
"There were several."
"Why?"
"That," he replied calmly, "is one of the questions I'd like answered."
I leaned forward slightly. He slid several photographs across the desk.
"I've noticed this witness altered their timeline."
"So did this one. And this investigator corrected his report three separate times."
I felt my pulse begin to quicken. "I knew I noticed some inconsistencies before I left."
"You were correct."
That felt validating. Judge Johnson adjusted his glasses before opening another folder.
"I also contacted the Department of Corrections."
My eyebrows lifted. "You did?"
"I did."
"Why?"
He looked directly at me. "Because I'd like to speak with Mr. Deyes."
"I've already scheduled it."
"I'm sorry, you what?" I blinked.
"The meeting is next Thursday."
"I requested a legal consultation." He handed me a printed confirmation.
I stared at the paper. Everything had already been approved.
Everything.
"And you've already arranged all of this?"
"Yes."
My mind struggled to catch up.
"I assumed you'd come."
"I..." I laughed quietly. "That's incredibly optimistic."
"I don't consider it optimism."
I looked back down at the paperwork. My fingers traced the edge of the authorization form.
"I haven't seen Mr. Deyes since..."
I swallowed. "..uh..the sentencing."
"I know." Judge Johnson nodded once.
"What if..."
The question escaped before I could stop it. "I don't know, what if he hates me?"
"I imagine he has every reason to resent the legal system." Judge Johnson folded his hands together.
"But I don't believe that's the same thing."
"He was originally supposed to get the death penalty, correct?"
I nod. "Yes, he was."
His voice remained steady. "So you didn't abandon him."
"I still lost."
"You did." He didn't sugarcoat it.
"But losing a case and abandoning a client are not the same thing."
Something in my chest loosened.
He continued. "I can't promise Mr. Deyes will be pleased to see you."
"I wouldn't expect him to be."
"But I believe he'll speak with you."
"I hope you're right." I nodded slowly.
"So do I."
A comfortable silence settled between us.
Judge Johnson reached into another folder. "There is one more development."
"What?" I straightened immediately.
He slid a sealed envelope across the desk.
"I've begun questioning whether every conclusion reached during Mr. Deyes's trial was supported by the evidence."
"I don't make statements like that lightly." He said.
"Of course you don't."
"I've spent months trying to prove myself wrong. But so far I haven't succeeded."
My phone vibrated softly inside my purse. I glanced down.
A second message arrived almost immediately.
I quickly typed back.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
I hit send before quietly slipping my phone back into my purse.
"I'm sorry," I said. "My husband."
Judge Johnson gave a small nod. "No apology necessary."
"He worries a lot about me."
"I suspect he has reason to."
I offered a faint smile before looking back toward the folders spread across his desk.
"Now, you mentioned there was another development." I said, pulling my chair a little closer.
Judge Johnson opened the final folder.
"Yes. I think it's time we start asking a different question."
"What kind of question?" I frowned.
He slid the newest witness statement toward me.
"Not whether Justin Deyes committed the crime. But whether someone made absolutely certain he was the one convicted."