Chapter 7
Tuesday morning
Department Five was already crowded when Sabre slipped into the courtroom.
She took her seat at counsel table just as Judge Hammouri lectured a probation officer about a missing report.
“Next time,” the judge said sharply, “you might consider bringing the paperwork the court actually ordered.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Imagine that.”
A few quiet chuckles moved through the courtroom. Sabre tried not to smile. Some things about juvenile court never changed.
Sabre’s first case of the morning took less than three minutes, a continuance while a placement report was completed.
The second involved a boy in foster care who had managed to miss fourteen days of school in the last month.
Sabre assured the court she would talk to her client and figure out what was going on.
By the time Sabre stepped back into the hall, she was reminded of why she had decided not to take anything new.
“Counselor.”
Sabre turned.
Bob Clark was leaning against the wall, holding a thick file in one hand.
He looked exactly the way he always did,tall, with prematurely gray hair that seemed to ignore whatever comb he had used that morning.
Thick glasses sat low on his nose, and his suit jacket hung open over a slightly rumpled dress shirt.
As usual, he was not wearing a tie, which he claimed interfered with oxygen flow to the brain.
No one had ever been able to prove otherwise.
“So,” he said, “The rumor around the courthouse is that you’re retiring.”
Sabre rolled her eyes. “I’m not retiring.”
Bob nodded thoughtfully. “Ah. Strategic withdrawal.”
“I’m not withdrawing either.”
“Then I assume you’re here for the company.”
Sabre smiled, despite herself. “I’m not taking any new cases right now, but I still have a full caseload.”
“Of course you do. Four-hundred cases, give or take, is a lot to just walk away from.” He pushed off the wall. “You look like someone trying to decide whether she belongs here today.”
Sabre tilted her head. “Is it that obvious?”
Bob gestured down the hall. “Let’s go where we can talk more privately.”
They moved toward a bench at the end, then sat.
“So, what’s the crisis?”
Sabre crossed her arms. “There’s a case.”
Bob nodded. “There’s always a case.”
“This one’s different.”
“I’m listening.”
Sabre told him about Bay, the murder charge, and the fact that the girl had specifically asked for her.
Bob adjusted his glasses. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “A teenage girl tracks down a man and stabs him.”
“Yes.”
“Then asks for you by name to represent her.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ve never met her?”
“Not that I remember, but she claims I did.”
“That’s interesting. And she’s not telling you the whole truth.”
“No.”
Bob folded his arms. “And you’re thinking about representing her.”
“Maybe.”
Bob studied her for a moment. “All right, let’s assume the worst.”
Sabre sighed. “You’re enjoying this.”
Bob smiled. “Immensely.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Did she say why?”
“She’s protecting someone.”
“That’s your theory.”
“Now you sound like JP. It’s more than a theory.”
Bob considered that. “So, you’re thinking self-defense.”
“Maybe.”
Bob’s eyes sparked. “Or revenge.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
Sabre thought about Bay’s tone during the interview. You don’t know him. “She sounded afraid of him.”
Bob tilted his head. “That’s different.”
“She almost said something else.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. She stopped in the middle.”
Bob smiled. “That’s the most interesting part of the story.”
Sabre raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because people rarely stab someone unless they’re afraid.” Bob shrugged. “The question is whether she was afraid for herself or someone else.”
Sabre nodded. “That’s exactly what I think.”
“And you also know that fear for yourself and fear for someone else, unless they were in immediate danger, are whole different defenses.” Bob stood. “So, why are we having this conversation?”
Sabre frowned. “Because I’m trying to decide whether to take the case.”
Bob shook his head. “No.”
Sabre looked at him. “No, I shouldn’t take the case, or no, that’s not what I’m trying to decide.”
“You’re trying to decide whether you still believe in this job.”
Sabre didn’t answer.
Bob’s tone softened. “That’s a harder question.”
“So, what do you think I should do?”
Bob shrugged. “I think you’re asking the wrong person. If you want the real answer, ask your client.”
Sabre frowned. “I did ask her.”
“No,” Bob said. “You asked what happened. You didn’t ask her to convince you.”
Sabre thought about that.
Bob continued. “Tell her you’re not sure you’re taking the case.”
“That part’s easy. I’m not sure.”
Bob grinned. “Then see what she does.”
Sabre folded her arms. “Do you think she’ll talk?”
Bob shrugged. “If she really believes you’re the only lawyer who can help her, she’ll find a way to convince you.”
“I suppose she would.”
Bob smiled. “And Sabre?”
“Yes?”
“If she does convince you, I want to hear the whole story.”
Sabre laughed. “Deal.”
As she walked back down the hall, she realized Bob was right about one thing. If Bay wanted Sabre as her lawyer, she would have to explain why.