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As Bambi and I rode the elevator to my day's first appointment, her question lingered in my mind. When would I finally stop punishing myself for all the evil things that I've done? I expected to hear Anna's voice speak to me on the issue, but she remained as silent.
Just as the elevator bell pinged, Bambi quickly leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. She said, "I know you don't need the luck, but you do need to know that I love you and believe in you."
I looked at the seemingly somber redhead in her dark gray suit and didn't for a moment doubt that she loved me. That is one of the few aspects of my power that never seems to leave me: knowing that my girls love me. I am often confounded as to why they do, but never that they do.
The doors slid open before I could phrase a reply. As we stepped out of the elevator there was a receptionist's desk a dozen paces in front of us. Throm and Lowe is one of the bigger law firms in the city and occupied the entire floor and half of the next one. This was my first experience having them as a client; I was more used to working with the DA proving guilt than innocence.
The blonde receptionist obviously knew we were expected because she made a quick call and said, "Please follow me, Mr. Throm is expecting you." She took off down the hall rather more quickly than decorum would dictate. I sensed that she was a bit afraid of me, but quite afraid of Mr. Throm.
Ahead were imposing double doors that were flanked by a small incongruous sign that read, "Conference Room A". The blonde knocked quickly on the door and walked in without awaiting a response. I heard a distant clock chiming the hour as she said, "Mr. Throm, the consultants are here."
I walked into the conference room with a deliberate casualness and took stock of the other people in the room. At the head of the oval conference table was Mr. Throm in his tailored suit and starched shirt. Along the right side of the table sat a half dozen junior lawyers who looked at me with disdain in their minds if not on their faces. In the center of the left side of the table sat a single man in a white cotton suit.
I took the seat at the foot of the table and Bambi took the seat to my left. This left two empty chairs between her and the white suited client, a distance which didn't seem enough. I sized up the client with a single glance, but found the man sitting directly across from me more interesting. Mr. Throm was the sort of man that people, especially juries, seemed to trust immediately. But as I looked at the vultures sitting to my right, and remembering the receptionist's reaction, I knew that he was rotten to the core. But as I scanned his mind yet again, I realized that despite his corrupt nature he had never broken the law.
I sat quietly and waited. Junior lawyer number 5 was the first to begin to fidget. It only took a few minutes before all of the junior staff exhibited some sort of impatience. But Mr. Throm and the client sat quietly as they both looked at me with cold deliberation.
I could see the client, a Marty Tribido, counting dollar signs with each passing minute. Finally he turned to glare at Mr. Throm. Throm said, "We have asked you here to help our client, Mr. Tribido. He has found himself in a rather tight spot and hoped that your particular expertise might help."
I said, "You have informed him of my fees?" I didn't really need an answer, but it was part of the game. I received a nod from Mr. Throm and Mr. Tribido. "You have also informed him that I will not work for a guilty client and that he will be charged for this session whether I take his case or not?"
I knew that last part broke Bambi's heart. She believed that even the most guilty client deserved the best defense possible. Part of it was her firmly held faith in the adversarial justice system, but a greater part was the naive belief that a guilty person who was graced with forgiveness would mend their ways. She still believed that if her father hadn't been labeled a criminal, he wouldn't have died a criminal.
Mr. Throm said, "I would give you a lecture on how the legal system in this country works and a lawyers obligations ethically and under the law. But you are not a lawyer and have no such ethics. I have advised Mr. Tribido of all salient points." I would have laughed as the shark impugned my ethics, but this was a job. Instead I merely nodded.
The slow play finally wore down Marty's nerve and he blurted out, "Gregory, how is this cutthroat going to get me off for my wife's murder?"
Gregory Throm's facade cracked slightly at his friend's outburst. I knew the man had killed his wife and I was preparing to leave when Gregory said, "He isn't! He has been asked here to consult on the resisting arrest charge."
Marty stood and slammed his hands on the table. He began a rabid rant as a fierce discussion erupted among the junior lawyers. I looked at the crafty shark sitting across from me and wondered what his game was. I looked to Bambi for advice and saw a shocked expression on her face.
I read the surface thoughts running through her mind and realized I had been trapped. The man was not guilty of resisting arrest and a host of other minor included offenses. But he was guilty of murdering his wife. The trap was that I couldn't consult for the district attorney on the murder while I was consulting for the defendant.
The chaos in the room didn't subside until the hour consultation was up. Marty Tribido and the junior lawyers seemed to be in a battle about who could out shout the other. As the battle raged, Gregory Throm and I stared at each other the vast expanse of table. Bambi said things to me during this time, but I can't recall exactly what it was.
Finally I stood and walked out of the room. The tumult hadn't subsided much as Tribido insisted to know why he was spending ten grand an hour to get out of a thousand dollar fine. Bambi followed on my heels and said, "I'm sorry, I should have known."
"You have nothing to be sorry for Bambi, I am the one who should have known." I wanted to blame Bambi, or Betsy who set up the appointment, but I couldn't. One thing I have learned is that I can only hold myself to blame.
We were soon to the elevator and I punched the button with more vehemence than was necessary. The receptionist could tell from our body language that our meeting with Mr. Throm has not gone well. She felt guilty, not because she knew what was in store, but because she had unwittingly lured someone else into Mr. Throm's web.
I looked the girl's mind over and saw that she had potential, but that working for Throm and Lowe was slowly killing her spirit. The lawyers were dismissive and condescending, the other secretaries cold and cutthroat, and the wealthy clients disturbed her deeply.
