I’d handled a couple of hundred DUI cases over the years. They had become one of my specialties. I’d had clients who told me they didn’t remember anything, but all of them had blood-alcohol counts that were nearly triple the legal limit. This beautiful young lady must have taken a heavy dose of drugs.
“You said, ‘I guess,’ when I asked you about drugs. What do you mean by that?”
“I don’t use drugs, but I’m a graduate student at UT in the criminal-justice program, and we were in finals week. I’d been up studying all night for a couple of nights, but I couldn’t turn my mind off and get any real sleep. I was talking to one of my friends about it because I had an important test two days later, and she said, ‘I have something that I guarantee will help you sleep. I’ll bring it by your place later.’ She came by later and dropped off one little pill. I guess I was pretty desperate, because I took it.”
“Ambien?” I said.
“Right,” she said. “I took the pill, went to bed, and the next thing I know I’m in jail, in my pajamas. Bare feet. The police report says I was weaving on Paper Mill Road at 1:30 a.m. and that I failed the field sobriety tests the officer gave me. I don’t remember a single bit of it. Not a bit. Do you think you can help me? I’ve already been accepted to the UT law school in the fall. I want to be a prosecutor. If I get convicted of DUI, it’s going to cause me a lot of problems. I’m twenty-five years old, and I’ve never been in any kind of trouble before, I swear it. Nothing. No juvenile record. I’ve never been arrested, never even had a speeding ticket. I guess I shouldn’t have taken that pill, but I had no idea something like this would happen.”
“Did you read the label on the bottle?” I said.
“She didn’t give me the bottle. She just brought me the pill in a plastic baggie.”
“I think I can help you,” I said. “I can’t guarantee it, but I think I can talk the prosecutor and the cop out of this one after they hear the circumstances.”
I’d been pleasantly surprised by the attitude shown toward me by the local prosecutors and police officers. Many of them had to know I was a suspect in the West Virginia murders, but if they did—with the exception of Dawn Rule and Lawrence Kingman—they didn’t seem to care. None of them had stopped speaking to me, and I hadn’t gotten the sense that they were treating me any differently than before. I’d become somewhat of a celebrity after Grace helped me get my conviction for murder reversed, and I’d become a sympathetic figure after my mom was killed. As far as I could tell, the respect and the sympathy they had showed me in the past hadn’t changed.
“The biggest problem we have is that driving under the influence is what they call a ‘strict liability crime’ in Tennessee,” I said to Katherine. “That means the state doesn’t have to prove criminal intent. It’s similar to speeding. If they catch you speeding, they don’t have to prove you intended to speed. In a DUI case, all they have to prove is that you were operating a vehicle on a public road and you were under the influence. Can you get me transcripts of your grades and a copy of your acceptance letter to law school?”
“I can do that.” She reached into her purse and brought out a tissue. A tear slid down her lovely left cheek. “I’d be so grateful if you can help me get out of this.”
“Please don’t cry,” I said. “I think you’re going to be all right. Did they do a blood draw at the jail or take you to the hospital, or do you even know?”
“I have no clue,” she said. “I’ve been so worried and so terrified that everything I’ve worked for would be ruined because I took a stupid pill. I can promise you one thing. I’ll never do it again.”
“It helps a lot that you didn’t hurt anybody,” I said. “Or yourself. I’m really glad you didn’t hurt yourself.”
She looked at me curiously, and I felt my cheeks warm. I’d just given her the impression that I was attracted to her. It was unprofessional, and I immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
She smiled easily. “No problem. I like you, too. So tell me, do you enjoy what you do? I want to work for the DA’s office, but I hear a lot of stories about defense lawyers being drunks and drug addicts and hating themselves and what they do.”
“I’m not a drunk or a drug addict,” I said, “but to be honest, what I do can be difficult sometimes. I look at my job as nothing more than being the guy that ensures the government and all the people it employs play by their own rules. They make the rules, so I think they should have to follow them. All the time. No shortcuts, no cheating, no lying. If you become one of them, I’ll expect you to play fair.”
It was strange hearing myself say those things, because I still genuinely felt that way, with one very important exception. The exception was that if a crime was committed against me or someone in my family, then I would take care of it myself. Screw the government, its employees, and its rules.
“Do a lot of police officers lie?” she said.
“I wouldn’t say a lot, but some of them do. Once they make an arrest, they want a conviction, and some of them will do anything to get that conviction. It becomes a game to them. Some prosecutors are the same way. Once they have an indictment, they think they have to have a conviction. But like I said, those people are in the minority, and I hope you won’t be one of them. My clients? Different story. About ninety percent of them lie to me. I expect them to lie. I was expecting you to lie, but I don’t think you are. That’s refreshing.”
“Everything I’ve told you is the absolute truth,” she said.
“That’s rare around here,” I said. “You said you read the report. Did you bring it with you?”
“I did,” and she went back into her purse. She handed it to me, and I read it.
“You caught a break,” I said. “The arresting officer is Earl Anderson. He’s one of the good guys. He won’t want to jam you up after I talk to him and tell him what happened.”
“You know him?”
“I’ve been doing this a long time,” I said. “I know a lot of the officers. When do you have to go to court again?”
“Three weeks.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and Earl will be there that day and we can get it taken care of so you won’t have to worry anymore. Sometimes the officers don’t show up. They’re working an accident or there might be a scheduling problem or they’re sick. If he doesn’t show up, we’ll have to move it a few more weeks down the road. If, for whatever reason, Earl and the prosecutor won’t back off and insist on pushing this, we’ll take it to Criminal Court and try it in front of a jury. You’ll make a very presentable and sympathetic witness.”
“I almost hope he doesn’t show up,” Katherine said.
“Why’s that?”
“Because if he doesn’t show up, I’ll get to see you again.” She smiled broadly and stood.
My stomach fluttered. “I’m a little old for you, don’t you think? I’m also sort of semi-engaged.”
“You’re not that old. What does semi-engaged mean?”
“It means I have a girlfriend I don’t talk to very much.”