The Color of Law_ A Novel - Mark Gimenez [50]
“I love your hair,” Boo said. She began rubbing the white lotion into Pajamae’s brown skin. “Do black people need sun-screen?”
After a moment, Pajamae said, “I don’t know. But Mama always makes me put it on.”
“When will she get out of jail?”
“End of summer, if Mr. Fenney gets her out.”
“If she didn’t do it, she’ll get out.”
“Don’t work that way for us.”
“Us who?”
“Black people.”
“A. Scott’s a great lawyer. He’ll get your mother out.”
“I hope so. ’Cause my mama, she wouldn’t do well in prison.”
Boo rubbed until the lotion disappeared into Pajamae’s skin, then said, “Why do you talk like we do?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, whereas—”
“Where what?”
“Whereas.”
“Where ass?”
“No, whereas. A. Scott’s always saying whereas this and whereas that…it’s lawyer talk. Lawyers have lots of words like that.”
Pajamae was grinning. “Whereas. I like that. Where-as!”
“You don’t talk like black people on TV talk, like…”
“Black English, Mama calls it, like everyone in the projects talks. She says I’m not allowed to talk like that. She says I have to use correct English.”
Boo lifted one of Pajamae’s braids and let it slide through her fingers. She sat up with a start.
“Come on, I’ve got a great idea!”
Driving home, Scott was wondering why he wasn’t feeling more insulted by Mack McCall’s arrogant assumption that he could simply dictate to A. Scott Fenney, Esq., the terms of his representation of a client. The legal code of ethics to which all lawyers swear allegiance (at least long enough to obtain a license to practice law) clearly states (in theory) that a lawyer shall not be influenced by any outside interests in the zealous representation of his client. Of course, in practice the code of ethics is viewed by most lawyers in the same way career criminals view the penal code: more in the nature of suggestions than actual rules governing one’s professional conduct.
On the other hand, Scott was also wondering why he hadn’t readily agreed to McCall’s demands as requested by his senior partner. Scott had never gone against Dan Ford’s wishes—that would be like going against his own father. He had rubber-stamped all of Dan’s decisions for the firm, whether firing a partner or dumping a client or making campaign contributions to friendly judges up for reelection, because Dan was always acting in the best interests of Ford Stevens and thus in Scott’s best interests. Why had he hesitated this time? For the first time?
Back to the first hand: the fact that United States Senator Mack McCall just assumed Scott Fenney would drop his client’s best defense to a murder charge simply because McCall told him to, that should have brought Scott’s blood to a boil. Who the hell does he think he is? Back in college, if someone had even dared suggest that Scott Fenney, star halfback, might throw a game, he would have gotten pissed off and punched the son of a bitch in the mouth! Just for thinking he possessed so little integrity as to even entertain the idea of throwing a football game! So why wasn’t A. Scott Fenney, Esq., similarly pissed off when asked to throw a trial? Why was he even entertaining the idea? Had he engaged in so much aggressive and creative lawyering that he no longer recognized the difference between making a deal and compromising his integrity? Had he become such a good lawyer that he had no integrity left to compromise?
He was wrestling with these thoughts as he drove past the walled estates along Preston Road that backed up to Turtle