PLEA-BARGAIN
Chandler lay in bed alone in his cell, his blanket pulled up to his chin. It was mid-afternoon, and Eric and Lucas were out and about the correctional facility. Chandler felt relieved to have some time alone. His eyes were red and swollen from crying. He heard an announcement on the prison intercom.
"Chandler Muriel Bing, please make your way to the visitors' foyer, your attorney is here to see you."
They just had to announce his middle name, didn't they? As if the other prisoners didn't already regard him with enough contempt. Chandler hauled himself out of bed, stiffly making his way to the foyer. He saw his lawyer behind the glass barrier, and sat down gingerly.
Noticing Chandler's puffy red eyes, attorney Olsen said, "I'm sure you must be upset about the testimony tape. Frankly, this case would've been a lot easier if the child had just…"
Olsen let his voice trail off, realising how grotesquely mean-spirited he sounded. This taxing job had turned Olsen from an optimistic idealistic man, to a mean, jaded and cynical one.
"Look, Chandler, as your lawyer, I'm sworn to secrecy. I cannot divulge anything you tell me. So tell me, did you stab her in a moment of stress? I know small children can be a handful."
Chandler stared into space dreamily. His mind was wandering; he wasn't paying attention to a single word the lawyer was saying.
"Chandler. Did you, or did you not stab the girl in a moment of stress?" Olsen reiterated emphatically.
Chandler remained silent, staring into space. To cope with the trauma of the rape, and to keep from descending into a mental breakdown, Chandler's mind was disassociating itself from the world around him. It was like he was watching his life from outer space. He felt empty, hollow, numb, indifferent and very distant.
"Chandler, I'm not going to rat you out, like I said, lawyer-client confidentiality. But it would really help if you could just throw me a bone, here."
Chandler remained mute, staring into space. A single tear made its way down his cheek. Mistaking Chandler's sad silence as an implied admission of guilt, Olsen shook his head, whispering, "You did it, didn't you? You stabbed the girl."
Chandler felt exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. Olsen's voice sounded like meaningless mumbling to him. When Chandler didn't respond, Olsen looked up at the ceiling, and closed his eyes in fatigue.
"Chandler, now that I know the truth, I can't in good conscience pursue your plea of innocence. I suggest you plead guilty to aggravated assault, and I will work tirelessly to knock out the attempted murder charge. If the prosecution accepts aggravated assault, which I believe they will, because they want this over quickly as much as I do, you're looking at 7 to 10 years. Possibly 5 years if you're released on a good behaviour bond."
Chandler replayed the torture he had suffered at his cellmates' hands, over and over in his mind. The rape. It consumed him, it destroyed him. His humiliation was eating at his soul. He still hadn't listened to a single word Olsen had said. Olsen knocked on the glass barrier agitatedly. Startled, Chandler jolted awake from his daydream.
"Chandler, you have to meet me halfway, here. I can tell you that 5 years on a good behaviour bond is a low price to pay for almost killing a child. Tell me, how does that sound to you? Would that be acceptable to you?"
"Fine, ok," Chandler said indifferently, paying no attention to what Olsen was saying.
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah," Chandler said vaguely. Olsen looked relieved.
"Ok, then. I'll meet with Prosecutor Gupta as soon as possible to negotiate your plea-bargain."
"Can I go now?" Chandler asked like a small lost boy.
Confused, Olsen frowned, "Yes, of course, I think we're done here." Chandler stood up, turned on his heel, and wandered away. Olsen watched him curiously.