Thank you so much to everyone that reviewed the first chapter. I'm thrilled that you like my Prisonward, and that you all understand where his anger is coming from. Now I'll let Bella tell you why she was expecting different.
For those of you that don't know me, my name is Lara. For those that do, I just want to say that the director of the Innocence Project Northwest is, in fact, named Lara; I'm not adding myself into the story. :)
The man restrained to the table in the stifling room glared at me, unwaveringly staring me down. I'd been expecting a young guy, friendly and open, eager to have help proving his innocence. Instead, I was facing a hardened convict, a face that looked aged beyond his 30 years.
He made me very uncomfortable, but I regained my composure and sat across from him. The only items
I brought in with me were a pen and a notebook, where I checked the number I'd written down against the number sewn on his shirt. I was in the right place.
He still hadn't spoken to me, so I looked up to him, meeting that cold stare with one of my own. "Since I can see that your inmate number matches what I have written down, I'll just start talking. We have approved your application, and you were next in line. If I take your case, I will work tirelessly to review the evidence the state had against you. It appears from what I've read that there are areas that need to be looked at more closely." I flipped my notebook closed. "Do you have anything at all to say?"
He had been leaning back in his chair, his cuffed hands folded on the table exuding calmness. At my question he suddenly surged forward, face half a foot from mine, and I barely stopped myself from flinching. "I don't know why you think a bunch of children could get me out of this God-forsaken place when my parents have already used all of their resources on high-powered attorneys that failed."
"Then why did you turn in an application for assistance?" I returned coldly.
"My bleeding heart mother figured you bleeding heart idiots could come up with something all those lawyers couldn't." He scoffed, making it clear what his opinion was. "It isn't going to happen. I'm serving five more years in this hole, and there's nothing you can do that will change that. So why don't you go running back to your fancy college, little girl."
Not exactly how I thought this interview would go. "I'm not a college student, I'm a volunteer." I was proud of myself for keeping the tremor out of my voice. "Which makes me an actual, practicing attorney, who is giving up her free time to help you prove why you don't belong here." I pushed away from the metal table, suddenly cold. Standing, I leaned over the table to meet his gaze. "If you aren't interested in my help, there's a list of about 200 people that are."
"Great, then don't waste your time on me."
I wanted to bang my fists on the table, but I didn't. Instead, I turned to go. Stopping at the door, my finger poised over the buzzer, I thought of one last thing to ask him.
"Are you actually innocent, Mr. Cullen? Or do you purposely have your mother fooled?"
There was no answer, just a bitter laugh from behind me.
I pressed the buzzer for the guard to come and let me out.
~E~D~
By the time I got back home I had a pounding headache. I spent a good portion of the long drive home talking to Lara, the head of the Innocence Project here in Washington. She was disappointed in the outcome of my meeting, and confused over the behavior of the appellant. She'd met personally with his mother, and tried to convince me that he was not that person.
The very reason I never accepted sexual assault cases was the families. Too often, they made excuses for their sons; families with money paying for the best defense, and then the defense attorney victim blaming, or making excuses for why the accused did what he did. It's never the rapist's fault he raped someone.
Honestly, I was pissed at myself for falling for the letter his mother had written. I'd let her words sneak in, making me feel empathy for her and her husband, and yes, their son. And then I'd met him in person, and he was exactly like the guiltiest man I'd ever met. He didn't even want help, because he knew we wouldn't find any exculpatory evidence. Because he was guilty.
My next call was to my father, who happened to be the police commissioner for the city of Seattle. At first he only vaguely remembered the case, and then the more we spoke, the more he remembered. I'd been about to graduate high school, and he was worried what type of people I would face in college.
"I remember the mother, very nice lady. Told me right up front that if her son was guilty, she wanted the key to lock him up. That wasn't how he was raised to behave, she said. The evidence was circumstantial at best, the DNA results were mishandled. It looked to me like he'd walk, and I told her so. I felt awful when he was found guilty, because it honestly seemed like it was more a case of wrong time and place."
He didn't help me with my decision to decline, only made me wonder again over his guilt or innocence.
To make matters worse, Lara emailed me with a plea from Esme Cullen. She told me that she knew her son was innocent, and that IP was his last chance. She told me a story of a bright young college student on a scholarship, top of his pre-med classes. He was a few months shy of his twentieth birthday when he finally caved to peer pressure and went to a party. He spent all of his time studying, but his friends were all going, and they convinced him to go with them. He danced with two or three girls, one of them the victim. He admitted to having a beer, but nothing else. Yet when the cops came in the early morning hours, answering an anonymous noise complaint, he was passed out on the couch. A couple of girls were asleep on the floor, and he couldn't recall who they were. When questioned, the girls stated they'd danced with him and couldn't remember much else. One of the two girls was injured, bloody and in pain. When she was examined at the hospital, her rape kit came back positive.
The cops only looked to him at first. He was questioned endlessly, and answered to the best of his knowledge. He submitted to a DNA test, and at first they couldn't find any on the girl. When a sample was eventually brought in, it was mislabeled, filed incorrectly, and only run when they found it months later. It was considered a match at 80%. Nobody seemed to care that it had been stored improperly and deteriorated.
Nobody did a blood test on Edward, only the girls. Predictably, they'd been given Rohypnol. This was feeling more and more like a setup by the real rapist. I could not for the life of me understand how his appeals had been denied, except that judges were extremely reluctant to admit they'd made a mistake.
I had so much work to do at the office right now, I was going to put my application in for partner within six months, and now this. I didn't have time for this, or the rude man I'd met.
I told Lara I'd take it.
Random Rita rec'd my li'l ol' Ex Delicto! If you found me through her blog, hello! Another hi to anyone finding me through the fic dive at A Different Forest!
I post chapter teasers the day before on my group page! facebook.com/groups/1533457420295204/
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