Page 6 of Pursuit of Happiness

He nodded.

“How old are you, Mr. Barkley?” She knew what the file said, butthis was a softball question designed to get him to start talking.

He wasn’t falling for it. Barkley jabbed a finger at the file,and Stevie pulled out the page that listed his personal data. William Barkley,age twenty-five, six two, one hundred sixty pounds. Resident of Maryland andemployee of Folsom Enterprises, an IT company whose primary work was as asubcontractor for government agencies. He was accused of violating theEspionage Act for sending classified documents to an online news outlet. Shevaguely remembered the information having to do with the FBI having a lead onRussian hackers infiltrating social media and failing to act on the intel. Shedidn’t get why the government was still trying to keep a lid on that since thesekinds of stories were popping up all over the place now.

She decided to start with the basics. She slid the paper with hispersonal data across the table. “Is this information correct?” She watched himscan the paper and then look up to meet her gaze. He nodded again. Good. So farhe didn’t seem crazy, just really reluctant to say words out loud. “I don’tsuppose you’d like to talk to me about the charges against you?” A slight shakeof his head was his only response.

Stevie mentally reviewed the prior attorney’s report andrecommendation for a competency screening. He’d listed only a couple of factorsas a basis for the recommendation, relying heavily on Barkley’s failure tocommunicate. She decided to dive right in. “Your last attorney believes you needto be evaluated for competency. Do you know what that means and why he wouldmake that kind of recommendation?”

Barkley hunched down in his seat and placed a finger over hislips. Stevie braced for whatever he was about to say, certain this was thecrazy she’d been warned about. He pointed at her pen. She hesitated for a justa second to consider how dangerous a pen could be in the wrong hands anddecided to risk it. She shoved her legal pad and pen across the table andwatched him form big block letters. He tore the paper from the pad, folded itin half, and slid it back toward her. She lifted the edge and peeked at thesecret note.

NOT SAFE TOTALK HERE.

And there was her first glimpse at crazy, but it was onlyborderline. She wrote back.Thisroom is secure. The guards aren’t listening. You can talk to me.Andslid the note back to him.

He scanned her writing several times before reaching for the pen,scrawling words in a firm press, and sending it back her way.

YOU DON’TKNOW THAT.

Okay, this was the real deal, but she’d need more specifics tofile a motion with the judge and this back and forth note thing was getting oldfast. “Talk to me about what you’ve experienced. I can’t help you unless youtell me what’s going on.”

He shook his head and crossed his hands on the table as if tosignal he was done. She gave it one more try. “Mr. Barkley, this afternoon,we’re going to be back in court for your detention hearing. You haven’tprovided any information to pretrial services, and without their report, the judgewill have no choice but to keep you in custody while we either prepare fortrial or work out a deal, neither of which can I do if you do not communicatewith me. In addition, if I have reason to suspect that you may not be competentto stand trial, it is my duty to ask the court to have you examined by a mentalhealth practitioner, which sounds like an easy process, but it isn’t. You mightbe shipped off to another facility for an undetermined amount of time while theprocess is taking place. If you are indeed competent, the examination will onlydelay your court procedure, and delay is not always to your benefit, especiallysince you will remain in custody while your competency is being assessed.Ultimately, you will wind up right back here with me asking you to provideinformation so that I can assist you with your case, a lot like what I’m doingright now. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Barkley frowned as she spoke and shifted in his chair. When shewas done, he reached for the note and pen again and drew heavy black linesbeneath the wordsNOTSAFE TO TALK HERE, and then shoved the paper across the table withenough force to send it flying onto the floor. Stevie leaned down to pick it upand placed it in her bag. If she chose to file a motion to have him examinedfor competency, this would be exhibit A.

Back at the office, Stevie tossed the file on her desk andstretched her arms over her head. Joe poked his head in. “What’s the verdict?Cray or no cray?”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re not the most sensitive person in theoffice?”

“I’m okay with that assessment.”

“Good. The guy is paranoid, for sure, but incompetent? I’m notconvinced. Besides, isn’t there a saying, ‘Just because you’re paranoid doesn’tmean they aren’t after you’?”

“Maybe he spent too much time working on top secret projects forFolsom. The real question is whether he’s nuts, er, I mean mentally challenged,and whether you think he’ll respond to you.”

She considered his question carefully. As unsure as she was abouther interaction with William Barkley, she did feel like they’d made aconnection. At the very least, he seemed to want to confide in her even if hewas leery about doing so at the jail. “I’ll stay on it. Maybe once he getshauled in front of the judge again, he’ll agree to talk to me.”

“Fair enough.” He handed her an envelope. “This came for you.Hand-delivered. Hannah asked me to give it to you. She wouldn’t let me openit.”

“Maybe because it says ‘personal and confidential’ on the outsideof the envelope.”

“We’re a law office—almost everything says that.” He jabbed afinger at the envelope. “You going to open it or what? It’s from SenatorMitchell’s office.”

Meredith’s name in the upper left corner had been the first thingshe’d noticed when Joe waved the envelope her way, but she didn’t want him toknow that. She tucked it under Barkley’s file. “If there’s anything in it thataffects you, you’ll be the first to know.”

He scrunched his face at her, but she wasn’t deterred and wavedhim off. “Now go. I’ve got work to do.”

He wandered off to bother someone else in the office, and sheslowly slid Meredith’s envelope out from under the pile on her desk. It wasthick and heavy, and curiosity quickly took over. She grabbed a letter openerand sliced her way in, quickly shaking the contents out onto her desk. On topwas a note card in heavy linen stock engraved with Meredith’s name. In flowingscript it said:Ifollowed your suggestion (that’s twice now) and found the enclosed articles. Imade copies for the rest of the committee members and thought you might like tohave a set for yourself. Thanks for the nudge. Yours, Meredith.

Stevie read the card three times before setting it aside to lookat the stack of paper—articles from a cross-section of legal journals arguingthe exact points she’d been trying to make when she’d appeared before thecommittee and with Meredith at the bar. Had it really been that easy toconvince Meredith to be swayed toward her side or was there more to thismessage than a simple, you were right, I was wrong? Stevie picked up the cardand read it again.Thanksfor the nudge.What exactly had nudged the senator: her arguments orthe evening they’d shared?

Stevie set the stack of paper to the side of her desk and triedto focus on the rest of her work, but it kept calling out to her. After acompletely unproductive hour, she picked up her phone and dialed. A woman’svoice answered before she could talk herself out of it.

“Senator Mitchell’s office, how may I help you?”

How indeed.

* * *

---