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Prologue
"But your Honor," the teenager lamented.
"That's my ruling Mr. Hardwick," the grey haired man with the stern face and the black robe sitting at the front of the room responded as the boy's lawyer tugged him away from any further communication with the judge.
As the lawyers put their files in their briefcases, the clerk called the next case. A man in a charcoal grey suit and a young black woman in jeans, a red tank and a denim jacket approached the tables at the front of the room. "Ms. McDaniels, where's your attorney?" The judge asked.
"Don't got one sir. Din't know I needed one. Thought l's just comin' here to show y'all how I'm better and maybe you'd let me see my li'l girl.
The judge sighed heavily, "Although it's only family court, this is a court of law, Ms. McDaniels. It's customary, and to your benefit, to have legal counsel." He looked toward the back of the room where the litigants of the last case were just leaving. "Mr. Reston," he called out. "You work for legal aid; perhaps you wouldn't mind assisting this young woman."
"Your honor, I would love to, but I'm already late for a case," Dan Reston replied. "My caseload now is huge. We're undermanned down there." The dark haired young man shrugged his shoulders. "You know how it is."
"Yes," Judge Collins replied, "unfortunately I remember." He waved the young lawyer off with his head. The young man quickly slid out the door past his opponent, an older man with grey hair, wearing a light grey suit.
The older man stopped, and turned back into the room. "If it please the court," he said, "I'll represent Ms. McDaniels." He approached the table where the young woman stood.
"I can't afode no lawyer," she told him.
"It's okay," he patted her shoulder. "It's called pro bono, which in Latin means for the good, which also means I do it for free."
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Lou- Anne McDaniels walked along the street, picturing herself in her new clothes. The bag still swung from her fingers. Her lawyer had suggested she wear something other than denim to convince the court of the progress she'd made. He was a really good lawyer, she could tell. She was so lucky that he happened to be in the courtroom when her case was called. She thought she might show him what she'd bought to make sure they were okay. She approached the small café. His secretary had called her and asked her to meet him here to go over the particulars of her case. As she passed the alley a hand reached out and grabbed her roughly, her new bag of clothes fell to the ground as she tried to fend off her attacker. She didn't even hear the gunshot or feel the pain of it coursing through her and, even though her eyes were wide open, they saw nothing. She laid there in the alley, now totally deserted and silent, as the bright red blood drained from her head onto the new clothes she had so proudly bought that day.
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He got out of his car, pushed on the key pad and heard the locks click while the car beeped its good night. He headed for the back door, noting that the light bulb had burnt out. He'd better change that before he did anything or he'd forget, he told himself as he fiddled for his house key in the darkness. The darkness, that concealed the attacker who jumped out from the bushes and grabbed him at the neck, one monstrously large hand squeezing tight, and pushing him against the back of his house while the other wielded a knife. He cried out weakly after the first stab, the weight of the hand on his neck blocking out most of the sound, his hands seemingly unable to pry the hand from his neck or stop the thrusts of the knife. Another feeble squeal followed the second thrust. By the third he was flat on the ground and knew nothing after that.
