Page 3 of Falling for Roxanne

“Your ex was an idiot, and I was glad to help you send him to the correctional facility he deserves,” I pointed out.

Her ex was a former corporate lawyer who’d been laundering money. I sat on the opposite side of the table from usual that time and helped out the DA’s office with getting him prosecuted.

“He was an idiot, but he also missed out on seeing Miranda grow up because he was always at work. It wasn’t easy to watch. My point is, you and Colin are so close, and I don’t want to see you lose that because you have so many irons in the fire. Criminal defense attorney, law professor, and single dad. If you don’t want to take on a partner, will you at least consider getting an intern? It’s free labor, and you could find one of your students to take it on. They’d get good experience at a prestigious private firm, and you’d get a ton of work off your plate.”

“You make a good argument, Syd. Seems like being married to a lawyer and then working for one makes you overqualified to make your case. I’ll think about it. You go take a coffee break and do one of your power walks and don’t spend all your time worrying about me,” I told her. “Send the phones to voicemail. I’ve got a pretrial Zoom call in ten minutes.”

An intern was something to consider. It didn’t involve giving up control over which cases we took on the way that a partner would, and I needed the help desperately. I had a problem trusting people, and not enough time to establish a rapport with a potential partner. I didn’t have the time or inclination to wine and dine other lawyers to gauge their personality, ethics, and loyalty. Any spare time I had was spent with my son and that was how I intended to keep it.

CHAPTER 2

ROXANNE

That salted caramel latte went straight to my soul, I swear. It was warm and sweet and just what I needed to motivate me to go to my class. The semester had barely begun, but I was already eager to be out in the real world of work and out of the classroom.

“Are you going to skip class?” Cathy asked with a laugh. “Because as far as I know you’ve never missed a class, not even with a hangover when you were nineteen years old.”

“I missed one pre-law seminar when I had the flu two years ago,” I said. “I’m not perfect.”

“I bet you’re still pissed you had to miss the lecture,” my best friend teased.

“I’ll get over it eventually,” I said. “I don’t want to skip; I just wish I was finished. There’s so much wrong in the world. Did you catch the headline this morning about the guy who’s trying to plea down to a lesser charge, the one that supposedly kidnapped that little girl?” I asked, fury joining the caffeine in my veins to animate me.

“Yeah, I saw it. Whoever the prosecutor is that agreed to that is a joke. One reason I’m going into corporate law—the stakes are financial. I’m not defending somebody that might’ve killed anyone.”

“No, you’re missing the point. Did you read the article?”

“No,” she said.

“He totally didn’t do it. There’s surveillance footage that puts him in a convenience store at the approximate time of the abduction. Any defense attorney worth their salt would refuse to cop a plea and insist on going to trial. That kind of evidence is bound to get him exonerated, if the cops insisted on pushing it even though he obviously isn’t guilty,” I said, warming to my subject, “his lawyer should have emphasized in preliminary that the charges should be dismissed and the state’s energy and resources should be focused on finding the person to blame and not witch hunting for a guy who was buying a Yoo-hoo at the gas station across town when the crime took place just because he resisted arrest. Who wouldn't resist arrest when they haven’t done a damn thing?”

“You are---really energetic. What did they put in your latte?” Cathy asked. “I mean, you’re not wrong, but it is not even eight in the morning yet.”

“I guess I’m just charged up. I’ve wanted to be a lawyer since I was twelve years old. I’m almost there. The finish line just seems too far away right now. Plus, I talked to my mom last night.”

“How are your parents?” she asked as we headed to campus, blinking in the chilly wind.

“They’re okay. Mom’s stressed out because Dad lost another job. He can’t get anything decent because he was convicted of a felony. Two years since he got out, and it’s not okay—the way former inmates are treated in the workforce and in society. We say they paid their debt—which he didn’t have a debt to society because it was completely bogus—but then we treat them like they’re pariahs, forever less than and unemployable. It’s complete bullshit, Cath.”

I sighed and took a sip of my coffee, which was less thrilling now that I was thinking about my family and our struggle. Ever since my dad was tossed in prison over a false accusation, it seemed like the world wasn’t safe anymore. I had grown up fast then, and as much as my mom tried to protect me and make everything alright, it was obvious.

We were treated differently, reduced to second-class citizens. It was bad enough to have to miss your friend’s birthday party because you had to go visit your dad in jail. It was worse when they stopped inviting me altogether because their moms didn’t want them socializing with a criminal’s kid.

I’d had to toughen up, to rely on myself and try to help out my family any way I could. It was my mission in life to spare other families from going through the hell we did. The separation from the father, the stigma and financial hardship and sheer sadness of missing him and knowing you were powerless to help. I wouldn’t be powerless again. I would be armed with all the knowledge I could acquire from law school plus the compassion I had from experience.

I knew that defendants were often considered guilty from the moment they were charged, no matter what the law said about the presumption of innocence. It seemed like I could never make all of it right, no matter how determined I was.

“I’m worried about them. They’re okay, but there’s a lot of healing that needs to happen—for them and for a very broken system too.”

“Well, with you on the case, I don’t think there’ll be any more wrongful convictions in Alameda County from now on,” she said supportively.

“Thanks, but I’m only one woman. Realistically, I can’t take every single case. I can’t take any cases yet.”

“To defeating injustice once you get your degree,” she said, holding out her cup. We toasted to that and hurried to class.

CHAPTER 3

HAMILTON

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