The jail population was segregated by floor. Those with serious mental health problems and openly gay and transsexual inmates were housed on the second floor, an arrangement that made Alex want to scream whenever she set foot on the floor. Instead, she continually lobbied the county to stop equating the two.
The third floor was for inmates who had no prior incarcerations, resulting in a population of mostly young inmates. Jared fit that profile. The crimes he was charged with didn’t. Rape and murder qualified him for the seventh floor, home to sex offenders and high-profile inmates.
Alex rode the elevator past the fourth and fifth floors, which were reserved for inmates who had served real time in state or federal prisons, and past the sixth floor, which housed women. She stepped off on seven, looking through a windowed wall into another room, where the corrections officers, or COs, worked. On the far wall of that room, there was another bank of windows, through which she could see the inmates. Having little else to do, they gathered at those windows to see who had come to visit.
At any one time, she might have half a dozen clients in the jail. Once they saw her, they would point at themselves, miming their question. “Are you here to see me?” She’d smile and mouth her apology, pointing at the chosen one. She’d called ahead, letting the COs know whom she wanted to see.
She scanned the faces lined up against the windows, shaking her head at the familiar ones, wondering which of the others was Jared Bell, her answer coming when a skinny white man with vacant eyes and mangy hair peeled away from the windows and shuffled toward a waiting CO.
Another CO escorted her to an interior meeting room big enough to accommodate a scarred metal table bolted to the floor and a pair of chairs. Jared entered through another door, chin down and hands jammed in the pockets of his jumpsuit, eyes darting around the room like a mouse looking for a morsel or a way out.
“Hi, Jared. I’m your lawyer, Alex Stone. Please take a seat.”
He slid down in his chair until his legs were stretched beneath the table almost to Alex’s side.
“Okay,” he said, after a moment.
“Are they treating you all right?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Nobody’s given me any trouble.”
He was pleasant, soft-spoken and polite, without a hint of pent-up rage or inclination to violence, the kind of person a jury might warm to and the kind of person who could be manipulated into taking a fall. His sunken eyes, sallow complexion, and yellowed teeth spoke to his time living on the street.
“Where are you from?”
“Goodland, Kansas.”
“Boy, that’s all the way west to the Colorado line, isn’t it?”
He gave her a shy smile. “Yes, ma’am.”
Alex returned the smile, holding his gaze for a moment, trying to make a connection.
“When was the last time you were home?”
He shrugged. “Three or four years, right after I got out of the army.”
“What was your rank when you got out?”
“E-4.”
“Like a corporal except you weren’t a junior noncommissioned officer.”
His eyes got wide. “You know your ranks.”
Alex smiled. “I’ve represented my share of vets. How long were you in the service?”
Jared swirled his hands on the table’s Formica surface as if he was making patterns in the sand. “Two tours, four years.”
“Did you see a lot of action?”
He ducked his chin, looking away. “Everybody did. That’s how it was in the sandbox.”
Alex shook her head. “Boy, I can’t imagine what that was like.”
“No, ma’am, you can’t. I can promise you that,” he said, tugging at the sleeves of his jumpsuit, the fabric hanging on him, the outfit at least a size too big.
She nodded. “I believe you. Thank you for your service.”
His voice rose as he hunched his shoulders to his ears. “Everyone’s always thanking us for our service, ’cept that doesn’t mean much, ’cause they don’t know what it’s like over there so they don’t really know what they’re thanking us for, you know what I mean, ma’am?”
It was Jared’s first show of anything approaching anger, making Alex wonder what might be boiling beneath his soft-spoken façade.
“I guess I do, Jared. I suppose it’s hard for anyone who hasn’t been through it to understand what it was like, so I won’t pretend that I do.”
His face softened again. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“But when I get to know you, I’ll have a better idea what it was like and I’ll thank you for your service then. In the meantime, I want you to know I’m glad to represent you.”
He furrowed his brow. “Why’s that? I’m a homeless nobody.”
“Because I know what it’s like when your life is on the line and you feel outnumbered.”
“How you know what that’s like?”
“I’ll tell you when we’ve got more time. When you were in Afghanistan, you looked out for your buddies and they looked out for you, right?”
His eyes fell, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Tried to.”
“Well, this is a different kind of war and I’m going to look after you,” she said, wincing inside, hoping to make good on the promise, knowing she might have to break it.
Jared thought about what she said and smiled. “Then I guess I should be the one thanking you for your service.”
“You’re welcome,” Alex said, pleased that she was building rapport. That was the key to building trust, and trust was the key to finding out what she needed to know. “Have you ever been charged with a crime before?”
“No.”
“Okay, so here’s how your case is going to play out. Your initial appearance is Friday morning at nine. I’ll meet you in the courtroom. That’s when the judge will set bail. It will probably be too high for you to get out, so I’m afraid you’ll be here for a while.”
“That’s okay. Been on the street a long time. Like they say, three hots and a cot.”
Alex grinned. “Not many of my clients see it that way. You’ve been charged with forcible rape and first-degree murder. In a month or so, the prosecutor will ask the grand jury to formally indict you on those charges. If you’re convicted, you could get life in prison without parole, or the death penalty.”
She paused, gauging his reaction. Jared’s face slackened, and what little color he had melted away, his eyes fluttering. She expected that, but not the small smile that leaked from the corners of his mouth, as if he was telling himself, I told you so. He was revealing pieces of himself, but she didn’t know what they meant.
“And a few months after that, we’ll have a preliminary hearing. That’s when the prosecutor will put on enough evidence to convince the judge that you should stand trial. And six months to a year from then you’ll go to trial unless we make a deal.”
Jared perked up. “What kind of deal?”
“Too early to say, but it would probably mean pleading guilty to a lesser offense to avoid the death penalty or life without parole. Something that would give you a shot at eventually getting out.”
He shook his head. “They ain’t ever lettin’ me out.”
Alex cocked her head. “Why do you say that?”
“’Cause that’s the way it is.”
“Innocent people confess to crimes they didn’t commit more often than you could guess. It happens for all kinds of reasons. And someone who’s been to war and who ends up living on the street may be even more likely to do that just because of all the stress you’ve gone through. I’ll come back after court and we’ll go over everything that happened. And I’ll dig into everything the police did to get you to confess. If there’s a way to keep your confession from the jury, I’ll find it.”
“I hear you,” he said, his chin down. “But. .”
Alex leaned toward him, holding her breath, waiting to see if he would recant his confession. Jared looked away, saying nothing. Alex pressed him. “But what?”