Ready Set Chaos: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller, page 5
For the next half hour, they went back and forth, with Nic playing devil’s advocate and challenging Willa’s arguments, relying on the State’s reply brief they received that morning. She found herself growing more confident with each exchange, her responses becoming sharper and more focused.
Nic leaned back when she finished. “I think you can do this.”
“I hope so. Thanks for your help.” She still wasn’t convinced. The whole endeavor felt doomed, but there was no choice except to go for it. They both stood and hurried back to the courtroom to wait for their turn before the judge.
As they sat in the audience, clammy sweat coated her palms and Willa smoothed them across her skirt again. Her sister deserved a real lawyer to argue her case, not a third-year law student with no experience. She sucked in a deep breath. Too late to dwell on that now.
She tried to keep Professor Chalmers’ encouragement in mind. She wasn’t asking to set aside the verdict or even to reopen an investigation, merely to look at the underlying evidence. She just needed to convince the judge it wasn’t an onerous burden and something that should have been done the first time around. Ava’s defense counsel should have demanded it the first time. It was his right and not handing over every scrap of evidence the cops had access to was reversible error.
Unfortunately, no one seemed to care.
“Do you want me to ready any exhibits?” Nic leaned close enough to whisper and not be heard by the other attorneys taking up seats in the spectator area of the courtroom. On days a judge heard motions for various cases, there were twenty lawyers, easy, waiting for their turn to argue. But today, the room was sparsely filled with no more than four other attorneys in the room.
She thought over Nic’s offer. “Maybe the log of discovery to show they never turned over the files despite being asked for them.”
He nodded as he bent over a gusset, searching for the document.
The case in front of them wrapped; something about a burglary charge and a renewed motion for bail. One of the other attorneys kept bringing up “recent events,” like there was something happening, but Willa barely registered the comment. As the lawyers collected their papers, the bailiff wheeled in a rolling cart with a speakerphone sitting on top. Using the squat little device, she dialed a number and waited for the connection to be made.
The speakerphone crackled and the bailiff stepped back, apparently satisfied. It meant her sister was on the other end, waiting.
Ava. Willa hadn’t even called to tell her this was going on. The judge sprung it on them both. The speakerphone crackled again and a voice spoke over the line. Willa strained to hear. Was that Ava or a guard? She couldn’t be sure. Willa would give anything to have her sister there beside her for this hearing, but it was impossible with only a few hours’ notice. But she wasn’t going to complain. Beggars couldn’t be choosers when her sister had a chance at freedom.
At last, the bailiff waved them forward and Willa followed Nic to the defense table. Apart from asking about potential exhibits, he’d been practically silent after she laid out the facts of the case and what she hoped to accomplish today. Did that mean Nic thought her case was as weak as the ADA did?
She shook her head to clear the rising doubt. Even if it was, what did it matter? Willa would fight for Ava until she exhausted every appeal.
They scooted in behind the worn wood defense table and sat, waiting for the judge to turn their way. ADA Scheer already sat at the prosecution table, shifting paper from one case into a gusset before reaching for the file labeled Rane. Ava was just another statistic to that man. Just another criminal, no matter whether she professed her innocence or not.
How many others swore by their not guilty pleas until the end? Probably most, even if they really were guilty. Willa didn’t blame Scheer for refusing to entertain her arguments.
As she wiped her hands on her skirt again, the judge called the courtroom to order. Willa swallowed. This is it. She tried to focus as Judge McDaniels recapped the status of the case and what he expected of counsel for both the State and Ava.
Before he allowed the ADA to begin, he addressed the speakerphone. “Ms. Rane, I understand we are connected to you via speakerphone in a conference room at Wellington Women’s Facility, is that correct?”
Whispers echoed across the line followed by a scrape of what sounded like chair legs across a hard floor.
“Ms. Rane, can you hear me?”
After another moment, Ava spoke. “Yes, I can hear you.”
Willa’s heart swelled at the sound of her sister’s voice.
“Excellent. Do you understand why you are here today?”
The speakerphone crackled. “I-I guess.”
The Judge motioned to the ADA. “You may proceed.”
ADA Scheer cleared his throat as he stood. “Thank you, your Honor.” He stared straight ahead, ignoring the speakerphone and Willa as he addressed the judge.
“Despite over four years elapsing since the night of the crime, the appellant has failed to produce any evidence of police misconduct or district attorney overreach. Initial trial counsel was provided with all evidence sought in discovery and presented an adequate defense. Appellate counsel’s request to review police files is tantamount to a second bite at the apple. Without some reason to overturn the jury verdict, it is simply not allowed.”
“ADA Scheer makes an excellent point, Ms. Rane. What reason does the appellant have for believing evidence was withheld?”
Willa swallowed. “We have the defendant’s statement that she did not set the fire, the history of the victim falling asleep with a burning cigarette, and the lack of physical evidence tying my client to the crime. We believe the police files will show the alternative theory is not only plausible, but the only rational explanation.”
Ada Scheer interrupted. “She was found with a lighter in her hand and third degree burns across her palm.”
“And a legitimate explanation for both.” Willa frowned and focused again on the judge. “Defense counsel in the original trial was never given access to the arson investigator’s underlying notes or work product. He was denied access to the police case files, and his only opportunity to probe this information was on cross-examination, despite requesting said documents during discovery.”
The judge inhaled slowly as he thought it over. “I take it you will be asserting an ineffectiveness of counsel defense?”
“If the evidence turned over by the ADA supports it, yes, sir.”
“Your Honor!” Scheer threw up his hands. “Appellate counsel is grasping at straws. If she can’t support an ineffectiveness of counsel defense on the record of the trial, then there is no reason to even have discovery.”
Willa’s blood whooshed through her ears as Nic handed her the exhibit. Her fingers trembled as she took it. “Your Honor, if I may?”
The judge nodded.
“As you are aware, we have also argued reversible error regarding the ruling on discovery. Initial defense counsel pursued the evidence currently at issue but was denied access by a court ruling on the matter.”
“Then they can’t argue ineffectiveness of counsel! It’s one or the other!”
They kept arguing, Willa pleading for an opportunity to review the records, the ADA arguing strongly against. Occasionally, the judge would ask a pertinent question and nod as it was answered. At no point did he ever ask Ava to speak. For all intents and purposes, she might as well not have been listening at all.
At last, Scheer exhausted his arguments and asked the judge to render a ruling on the spot. Willa hesitated. “Your honor, the Assistant District Attorney is acting like we are requesting you to set aside the jury verdict and grant the appellant a new trial. But we are asking for no such thing. All we request is an opportunity to examine the underlying evidence. Professor Chalmers—”
“Is not here,” Scheer quipped.
“Exactly.” Willa swallowed the rising unease. They were going to lose; she could feel it. “If Your Honor is inclined to rule in the State’s favor, we request an adjournment of the hearing until such time as Professor Chalmers can argue the motion.”
“Judge!”
McDaniels held up his hand for silence from the ADA. “While I appreciate your desire to afford your client a new trial, Ms. Rane, there is nothing in this motion which compels me to believe the appellant received anything less than a fair trial.”
Willa opened her mouth, but the judge once more held up his hand.
“Without clear evidence of either misconduct on behalf of the district attorney’s office, or a blatant example of defense counsel incompetence, my hands are tied. You may not like the outcome, and now that you’ve gone to law school, you may believe Ms. Rane received a subpar defense, but that alone is insufficient to overturn a trial verdict.”
With every word the judge uttered, Willa’s heart sank lower and lower, until it bobbed in the depths of despair and grief.
The judge picked up his gavel. “I hereby deny appellant’s motion and order Ms. Avalise Rane to remain incarcerated at Wellington Women’s Facility.” He thwacked the gavel once on the wooden rest and that was that.
The speakerphone disconnected and a dial tone filled the courtroom. She’d lost. After everything she’d done: finishing college, making it into law school, finding a professor to take on the cause, this motion, all of it. She’d failed. Her sister would finish out a twenty-year sentence for a crime she didn’t commit and there was nothing Willa could do about it.
She didn’t even get a chance to say hello. A hand landed on her shoulder and Willa jerked.
“They need us to move.” Nic nodded toward a trio of attorneys impatiently staring at Willa as she stood shell shocked and oblivious.
Of course. The next motion. She picked up her second-hand briefcase and let Nic usher her out of the courtroom and into the hall. As she stood outside the doors to the courtroom, her eyes glazed over. It took Nic saying her name three times for her to blink back into the present. “What?”
He nodded toward her left and she turned. ADA’s Scheer’s assistant stood several feet away, a tight smile on her face. “The ADA asked me to give you this. He didn’t feel the need to use it in the hearing, but in an effort to once again demonstrate the fairness and transparency of the District Attorney’s office, he thought you should see this. Have a good day.”
Willa took the file with a shaky hand and waited for the woman to leave before flipping it open. Inside, there appeared to be some sort of incident report from the warden where Ava was incarcerated. She skimmed the report, her stomach twisting as she absorbed the details. Ostensibly, her sister had been caught attempting to relay information from Anna “Mouse” Guerrero, one of the more violent women inside the prison, to an alleged associate of the Valle Central Cartel on the outside.
Mouse, as they called the woman, had been trying to arrange a potential jail break for her and a few other women, Ava apparently included. A grainy surveillance photo showed a woman sporting a large scar running along her jawline. Was this Guerrero?
Willa’s vision blurred. She blinked rapidly, forcing herself to focus on the words. The report was vague on details, but the implications were clear. If Ava was truly involved with this woman and a cartel, she was in far more danger than Willa had realized.
“What is it?” asked Nic with concern.
She handed him the report wordlessly.
He read quickly, scowling more with each line. “This is bad,” he said finally, looking up at her.
“I know.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat, struggling to maintain her composure. “I don’t understand. Ava’s never been violent. She wouldn’t get mixed up in something like this.”
His expression softened. “Prison changes people, Willa. Sometimes you have to do things to survive.”
“Not Ava,” she insisted, but doubt gnawed at her. How well did she really know her sister after all these years apart? That sweet sixteen-year-old had likely been jaded and twisted by a year in juvenile detention and three years in Wellington. She was twenty now.
Willa exhaled and took the report back from Nic. How could Willa protect her sister from this Mouse woman when she couldn’t even get the court to review the evidence?
“We need to go through everything,” she said, straightening her shoulders. “Every scrap of evidence, and every witness statement. There must be something we missed.”
Nic nodded. “I’ll help.”
She managed a weak smile in thanks for his support, but as they walked out of the courthouse, her failure pressed down on her. Another setback and another delay. With each passing day, Ava slipped deeper into a world Willa didn’t understand and couldn’t protect her from.
The morning sunshine mocked her dark mood. Willa squinted against the glare, already considering plans and strategies. She would find a way to save Ava. She had to. Because if she failed, she might lose her sister forever—not just to prison, but to a life of violence and crime that she could scarcely imagine.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AVA
Ava leaned back in the chair as Treacher hung up on the courtroom, her sister, and her last shot at getting out of Wellington before she turned thirty, assuming she even managed brownie points for good behavior. She’d known better than to hope, but a small part of her had dared to dream of freedom when the call connected. Now, that spark flickered and died. She let Treacher haul her up, oblivious as he navigated her back to the common area.
The clang of the metal door reverberated through the corridor. She didn’t bother to look up. What was the point? Nothing ever changed in this place.
“Hey, artist.” A gruff voice cut through her thoughts.
Ava raised her head slowly to see a group of women led by a heavily tattooed inmate she’d seen around but never spoken to leaning against the wall. The woman’s arms were a canvas of intricate designs, and her neck was adorned with a spider web that crawled up to her jaw. The jaw bore a deep, twisted scar.
“You’re the one who does the drawings, right?” The tattooed woman pushed off the wall and stepped closer, scrutinizing her.
“Yeah, that’s me.” Ava’s voice was flat, devoid of emotion. It was her default when interacting with an unknown person in this place.
The tattooed woman smirked. “I want a picture. Something special.”
She straightened, her business instincts taking over despite her mood. “Sure. It’ll cost you a dollar on my commissary account.”
The woman’s smirk twisted into a sneer. “I don’t pay for shit in here.”
Her stomach clenched. She knew this type—the ones who thought they could take whatever they wanted. “Sorry, but I’ve got needs too. Tampons don’t buy themselves, and they never give us enough. No freebies.”
The tattooed woman’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t understand. I’m not asking.”
She stood, curling her hands into fists at her sides. “I’m not working for free.”
The tension in the air thickened as the two women stared each other down. Ava’s heart pounded so hard she was surprised it wasn’t visible, thumping-thumping outside her chest cartoon-style, but she forced herself to stand her ground. She’d learned the hard way that showing weakness in prison was a death sentence.
“You’ve got some nerve, little girl.” The tattooed woman took a step forward, posse closing in behind her.
Before she could respond, a massive shadow fell over the group. Lil’B, all three hundred pounds of her, squeezed into the already cramped space.
“Is there a problem here, ladies?” Lil’B’s voice remained deceptively calm, but a warning flashed in her eyes.
The tattooed woman hesitated, her gaze flicking between Ava and Lil’B. For a moment, Ava thought she might back down.
Instead, the woman lunged forward. Ava stumbled, her back hitting the wall while she raised her arms to defend herself. Lil’B moved with surprising speed for someone her size. She grabbed the tattooed woman’s arm, twisting it behind her back. “I asked if there was a problem.”
The woman struggled against Lil’B’s grip, but it was like trying to move a mountain. “Let go of me, you fat cow.”
Lil’B leaned in close, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Watch your mouth, Mouse. You might be hot stuff in Block D, but this ain’t your turf.”
Mouse. Ava had heard the woman’s name mentioned in the yard, but they’d never interacted before. Her mind whirled with questions, but she kept her mouth shut. Now wasn’t the time for curiosity.
Mouse’s jaw clenched as her gaze darted around. Her posse backed off one-by-one, leaving her alone against Lil’B’s imposing presence. “Fine.” Anger coated the word. “We’re done here. For now.”
Lil’B released her grip, and Mouse stumbled forward. She shot Ava a venomous glare before stalking away, her group trailing behind her like lost puppies.
As the tension dissipated, Ava sagged against the wall, her legs suddenly weak. Lil’B turned to her, concern etched on her face.
“You okay, kid?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice. She’d seen plenty of confrontations in her three years at Wellington and had been involved in a few herself, including the shower incident with Marcy, but this one was different. More personal. More terrifying.
Lil’B studied her for a moment. “You need to watch your back. Mouse ain’t the type to let things go.”
“Looks that way.” Her voice came out as a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Thanks for stepping in.”
Lil’B shrugged. “Can’t have her messing up my favorite artist. Who else is gonna draw my winning poker hands?”
A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. As Lil’B lumbered away, Ava pushed off the wall, legs still shaky, and headed toward the barracks. The concrete walls seemed to press closer, the familiar scratches and stains offering no comfort. As she approached the open door, voices rose and fell in urgent whispers. Officer Martinez strode past, radio crackling at her shoulder. “Copy that. Block E secure.” Her leather boots squeaked against the floor as she disappeared around the corner.
