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“Yes, she asked to have a defense lawyer appointed for her.”
“All right, sure, I’ll talk to the lawyer then,” I said and was taken to meet a young man who looked like he was straight out of law school.
“Michael Young,” he said and shook my hand.
I tried not to smile at the irony of his looks and his last name. This was no laughing matter.
“Ehhh…” I cleared my throat. “I’m Darcia’s uncle, or rather stepuncle, but I only just found out about her today.”
“Oh.” Michael wrinkled his forehead. “That explains why she didn’t mention you when I spoke to her a few minutes ago. According to her, she doesn’t have any family at all.”
“What about her mother?” I asked.
“She doesn’t have any contact with her mother.”
“As I said, I only heard about her today, but I’m here to help.”
Michael looked through a few papers. “That’s good; according to her this isn’t her first time being arrested. There was another incident three years ago when she was eighteen.”
“Did you say eighteen? How old is she now?”
Michael let his finger slide to her info. “Her birthday is May fourth and she’s twenty-one.”
“May fourth. That’s today.”
Michael arched a brow. “Not the best way to celebrate a twenty-first birthday… but anyhow, she was arrested for civil disobedience at a demonstration in the Queen Ann district, three years ago, but luckily she got off with a warning.”
“Does it say what they were protesting against?” I asked.
Michael read the papers and nodded. “Yes, it was in relation to some budget costs that resulted in the closure of a homeless shelter.”
“Do you know why she was arrested today?”
“She’s been charged with theft in the third degree. Also called shoplifting.”
I crossed my arms. “Is she going to jail?” I had been in my share of gloomy places as a soldier, but the atmosphere of this place wasn’t nice and the protective side of me wanted to take her far away from here.
“It’s too early to say… it really depends on the judge. It’s what we call a gross misdemeanor, and that can mean up to 364 days in jail and up to a five-thousand-dollar fine.
I whistled. “All right, so what do you want me to do?”
“The best thing you can do is let me do all the talking and be present in case the judge has questions for you.”
Thirty-five minutes later I sat in the courtroom, ready to watch my first arraignment.
The judge entered and asked everyone to take a seat and for Miss Darcia Nilsson to be brought in.
I was curious to see how much my niece looked like Brent, but it was impossible to say from the way her head was bowed, making her long raven-dark hair cover her face completely. She looked small compared to the two armed police officers behind her, and she was wearing handcuffs and an orange prison uniform.
“Miss Nilsson, I’m going to have you stand up there next to your attorney,” Judge Kent said and pointed.
Darcia walked over and now had her back to me.
“Please state your name and address for the court record,” the judge said.
Darcia lifted her head up and listed an address in Kirkland.
“Miss Nilsson, I want to advise you that you are charged with theft in the third degree. That is a gross demeanor punishable by imprisonment for up to 364 days and a fine of up to five thousand dollars. Do you understand the nature of the charge?”
