Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [153]
The next morning Brady was escorted to a room where a tall, thin man in his early thirties introduced himself as Jackie Kent. Everything about Kent was straight and narrow—his dark, short hair, his nose, his ears, his chin, his tie, his suit, even his trench coat and shoes.
He proved to be one of those get-to-the-point guys.
Jackie pulled a sheaf of papers from his briefcase as he sat across from Brady. “Know that part in the Miranda warning where they tell you that if you can’t afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you, blah, blah, blah? That’s me. I’m what’s called a contract attorney. Firm I work for contracts for a certain number of these cases a year and assigns them to people at my level. We each get about one case a day for every day of the year, including weekends and holidays, and I’m not exaggerating. I had exactly 365 cases last year. All that for about twenty-five hundred dollars a month, not a dime of which comes from your pocket.”
“I’m guilty,” Brady said. “What do I need you for?”
“Everybody deserves representation. You did yourself no favors by spilling your guts to the police and trying to plead guilty.”
“I am.”
“So you’ve said. But you don’t plead your case to the police. You plead it to the court. If you decide to plead guilty—”
“Aren’t you listening?”
“If you decide to plead guilty, you do the county a big favor, and that ought to be worth something. It might even be worth your life. You see? You withhold your plea until that offer is floated before you. They say they could try you and put you to death or you can plead guilty and get life without parole. You might rather be dead, but—”
“I would.”
“—but you have to admit that of the two options, one is clearly better than the other.”
“I admit it. Only I wouldn’t choose the one you’d choose.”
“I won’t even pretend I know how you’re feeling right now, Mr. Darby. But let me say that I have one job here, and that is to do the very best legal work I can for you. I happen to be anti–capital punishment, but even if I wasn’t, my goal would be to do everything I can to keep you from the death chamber.”
“You’re wasting your time.”
“So I’ve been told and more than once. But do not discount that over the next few days, while the public and the press variously call for your life or your protection, you may change your mind. I have seen men and women go from what you’re professing now to where they’d agree to anything to not be sentenced to death.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Okay, here’s what happens next. I will ask for a continuance so we can start working together. If that is granted, it won’t be for long because of the high profile of this case. Already the capital punishment abolitionists, among whom I count myself, have cranked up their newsletters in your support. I walked through a band of demonstrators to get inside this morning.”
“What are you talking about?”
“People who oppose the death penalty. They know it’s coming. They’re marching outside on your behalf.”
“They’re supporting me. I blew a girl’s head off, and they’re on my side.”
“Don’t misunderstand. No one is condoning what you claim you did.”
“I’m not just claiming it. I did it.”
“Fair enough. No one in his right mind condones murder. But do you realize that the United States is the only democratic society that still executes its citizens?”
“Sure glad I live here, then.”
“Listen, Mr. Darby. Why should only the rich benefit from the courts? You know what they say about capital punishment? ‘If you have the capital, you don’t get the punishment.’”
Brady stood and shook his head. “I want the punishment, man, okay? I don’t know how else to say it.”
“You’re going to be on death row for years as it is. You might as well redeem the time by fighting for yourself. There are nearly four thousand waiting to die in this country right now and twenty-five