As she put on her black pant suit, Public Defender Ruth Stavros lamented that it was already Monday morning. After another lovely weekend cramming tasks like the grocery shopping and chauffeuring the kids everywhere, she had to deal with another round of degenerates. Not her words, but her husband's. The man with the comfortable office job selling insurance. She was so tired of him with his asinine attitude. How could a man with so many skid-marked underpants act so high and mighty?
Her first order of business was an arraignment for a young woman named Faith Lehane. Ruth let out a big sigh as she studied the file. In her booking photo, Faith had that same look in her eyes of past defendants: tough childhood, juvenile delinquency, a revolving door of scuzzy sex partners. Faith obviously didn't have a penny to her name. Ruth wondered what brought Bostonian Faith to California. Was it the sun, a boyfriend, a pathetic attempt to be "discovered"? It was usually one of those three things, but something told Ruth that Faith was too smart to fall for any of those things.
Ruth was let into the cell that was adjacent to the courtroom. That was at least some perk for the day, as not all of the courtrooms had such a setup. It was also nice to be greeted with the smell of vanilla body spray rather than sweat—even if it was going stale.
"Faith Lehane…" said Ruth, as she extended her hand.
Faith gave a joker smile and raised her handcuffed hands in the air. Ruth didn't miss a beat, and sat in the chair opposite of Faith.
"My name is Ruth Stavros, and I'm the Public Defender that's been assigned to your case. Before we discuss anything further, do you have any questions for me?" asked Ruth.
Faith gave a blank stare to Ruth before saying "No offense, but I was expectin' you to look like Ally McBeal or something."
Ruth wasn't in the mood for banter, especially since the barista botched her latte.
"Nice, insulting the attorney sent to defend you. You sure don't miss a beat," responded Ruth.
"Hey, I gotta bust your chops a little right. You can't tell me you got that snazzy suit without being in cahoots with the judge that'll be throwing the book at me in there," said Faith, as she pointed in the direction of the courtroom.
"Oh, I get it. Given your background, you probably have an issue with the legal system," said Ruth in a monotone voice.
"Just sayin'," responded Faith.
"Well, let's get some things straight shall we. First off, this 'snazzy suit' was on sale at Marshalls. Second, this is real-life sweetie, so cut the Ally McBeal crap. That bitch is too busy playing kissy face to give a damn about criminal law."
"Wow, little Miss Prim lacks the proper after all," said Faith.
"Damn right," said Ruth before clearing her throat. "So, according to your record, you confessed to beating up a pimp at the bus station and killing a man in Sunnydale."
"You forgot my wicked dance moves at the club," said Faith.
Ruth looked again at the file. "Right, the most important charge. You sure took break dancing to a whole other level. What, did you hate the DJ and decide to take it out on the dancers?"
Faith gave her poker smile again.
"So, former Deputy Mayor Allan Finch—the man you stabbed in Sunnydale—it says that you killed him by accident," said Ruth.
"Yup," said Faith.
"And it was with…a piece of wood?" asked Ruth.
"I learned that in self-defense class," responded Faith, as she sat back in her chair.
"I'm not aware of any kubatons with sharp edges. So, truthfully, was it self-defense?" asked Ruth.
"He took me by surprise and I panicked," said a slouching Faith, as she looked away.
"Were you also panicked when you hid the body?" continued Ruth.
Faith didn't make eye contact. Something didn't feel right with Ruth. Why would a Deputy Mayor be hanging around an alleyway? There must be more to this story that Faith is not telling her. Was this a possible lover's quarrel with blackmail involved? Faith's nonplussed demeanor aggravated Ruth.
"Hey, Pinocchio…eyes over here," said Ruth, as she snapped her fingers.
"I'm not lyin, Ruthie, about gettin' caught off guard," said Faith, "I was in a fight and accidentally stabbed him."
"Address me as either Ruth or Ms. Stavros," said Ruth, as she made eye contact with an annoyed Faith. "Okay, you were in a fight and in the heat of the moment you accidentally killed the guy. Is that correct?"
Faith remained silent.
"Look, you turned yourself in. You chose to be here…"
Faith continued looking down at her handcuffed hands.
"I'm assuming that you have a conscience somewhere in that head of yours," said Ruth, "You want to pay for what you did, am I right?"
Faith looked up from her handcuffs.
"All of my life, I've been surrounded by people that just shrug stuff off and high tail it. My mom. My stepdad. I had this lady who…mentored me. She showed me a different path, and I never got to thank her for it. I just fell back on my excuses, and raised hell like I'd been doin'. I want to be better than that. If I do wrong, I want to make up for it," said Faith.
"And you think your salvation is prison, then?" asked Ruth.
"I've seen the darkness, Ruth. I may need adjustin' at first, but prison is nothin' in comparison to what'll happen to me if I keep runnin' and don't serve my time," said Faith.
Ruth could hear the sincerity in Faith's words. She was so used to people that claimed innocence when she knew they were truly guilty.
"Okay, then. We need to enter a plea, and I'll be straight with you about your options. In turn, you be straight with me. Are you good with that?" asked Ruth.
"Five by five," responded Faith.