in her own thoughts. By the time they pulled into the parking lot of the correctional facility she’d done everything imaginable to keep from conversing with him.
“Are you always so rude?” he asked.
London shut down the car engine as she turned toward him, the question surprising her. Because she had been rude. She just hadn’t expected to be called out on it and there was no way she could explain to the man that he had her feeling like a high schooler with her first crush. She took a deep breath. “Excuse me?”
“Rude. Are you always so rude?”
“I didn’t realize...”
“You have gone out of your way not to speak with me despite my efforts to talk to you and maybe discuss the case. You’ve talked to your secretary, some friend named Joan and your mother. But you’ve barely said three words to me since we left the office.”
London’s eyes danced across his face. Something she didn’t recognize surged through the pit of her stomach, like an electric current stuck on high. “I apologize. It was never my intent to be rude to you.”
“Except you were.”
She took another deep breath, filling her lungs with air and then blowing it out slowly. Her gaze was still flitting back and forth over the intense stare he was giving her. “Why are you here?” she suddenly asked, an air of attitude in her tone. “What are you trying to prove?”
His brow shifted upward. “I’m not trying to prove anything. I’m just trying to do the best job I can.”
“But why here? There are hundreds of attorneys who apply and are denied, and you slide in on your family name and no doubt a big donation from Mommy and Daddy. You barely have any litigation experience under your belt!” She threw her hands up in frustration.
Collin bristled, the comment hitting a nerve he hadn’t known he possessed. There was no denying that the Stallion name opened doors that might have otherwise been closed. Although he had never purposely used his family connections to garner favor, admittedly it did happen sometimes. But when challenged, he was more than capable of holding his own against the naysayers. He shifted his gaze from hers, finally breaking the connection that he’d been holding with no effort.
A moment passed between them before he answered. “So maybe I do have something to prove. Maybe it’s about what I’m able to accomplish, in spite of my name. I like to think I’m a good attorney, even with my limited experience, and I’m here because I believe in what the firm stands for. I want to help, and I had hoped to be able to do that without people judging me before they took the time to know me.”
London suddenly felt foolish. Her eyes flitted back and forth, and she struggled to find the words to apologize and not dig herself into an even bigger hole. “I’m sorry,” she said finally, her tone dropping low. “You’re right. I should not have judged you. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to start over.” She extended her hand to shake his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Attorney Stallion. I look forward to our working together.”
Collin smiled sweetly as he gripped her fingers against his palm. He gave her a slight nod of his head. “Thank you, Counselor. I appreciate that. I know I can learn a lot from you and I’m grateful for the opportunity.”
* * *
With his court case pending, their client had been transferred from the state’s maximum-security prison in Ferguson, Texas, to the county jailhouse in Dallas. Back in his day, Jerome James had been a popular community activist, known for frequently going toe-to-toe with local law enforcement. His frequent protests and rallies against the legal vanguard he alleged was corrupt and immoral had made him more enemies than friends.
When he hadn’t been fighting for the rights of those most marginalized and disenfranchised, he’d been a respected automotive repair technician working at a local garage. He had also been a loving husband and father, living a blessed life, with the house, dog and picket fence. Things had turned for him when his wife, a beloved schoolteacher, was found murdered in their bed. He’d been convicted of that murder, despite more evidence pointing to his innocence than his guilt. It had been a miscarriage of justice of monumental proportions.
Collin had studied the detailed police reports. The couple had just celebrated their twelfth wedding anniversary. They were also anxiously awaiting the birth of their third child. James had left for work early that day, kissing his wife goodbye as she’d slept. Later that morning, Mary James’s body was found in their bedroom. She’d been sexually assaulted and bludgeoned to death. Despite no tangible evidence, the prosecution had argued he’d raped and murdered his wife after an argument. Months later, James had been convicted of the crime, sentenced to life in prison with no possibility of parole. Years of appeals and a mountain of discovery had since turned up potentially exculpatory evidence pointing to Mr. James’s innocence that the prosecution had concealed. Now Jerome James was getting a second chance at justice.
Collin hadn’t known what to expect as they checked in and proceeded through the prison’s inner maze to the visiting room where they waited for their client. London had briefed him on the case’s procedural tactics that she had been personally involved in overseeing, and there was an air of pride in her voice as she detailed the decisions she’d been proudest of making.
“Our original motion for DNA testing on items of evidence from the crime scene omitted a bloody towel that had been found in the woods behind the family home. Unfortunately, those tests could not exclude Mr. Jerome as the source of the DNA collected from the bed.”
“Why was the towel not included?”
“A previous attorney on the case missed adding it to the evidence list when the motion was filed.”
“And that was three years ago, correct?”
“Yes, the motion that was filed most recently includes that towel and I’m willing to bet the tests will prove conclusively that he didn’t harm his wife. That someone else was present in the family bed.”
Before Collin could respond, the heavy iron door swung open and Jerome James was ushered inside. He was a big bear of a man, years of prison yard work and cell-block weight training having sculpted his body into hard lean muscle. With his salt-and-pepper hair and full beard, he looked very distinguished, and entered with an air of confidence that actually surprised Collin. He gave the younger man a nod, eyeing him with interest.
The guard gestured for him to take a seat, and after securing his handcuffs to the chain bolted in the center of the table, he exited the room and closed the door behind him. Mr. James shifted his gaze toward London.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Ms. Jacobs. To what do I owe the honor? I was actually surprised when they moved me.”
London sat down, placing her hands atop his. “You’ve been granted a new trial, Mr. James. The state of Texas has set aside your original verdict and we’re going to be able to present your case with the evidence that wasn’t included in the first trial.”
Mr. James said nothing, seeming to ponder the information for a good few minutes. Then he nodded his head and turned his attention on Collin. “And who might you be, young man?”
Collin dropped into the seat beside London. “Collin Stallion, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Collin will be sitting second chair on your case,” London interjected. “He just recently joined the Pro Bono Partnership.”
“Where’d you go to school?” Mr. James questioned.
“I graduated from Harvard, sir.”
“Why didn’t you go to a historically black college or university? Our HBCUs don’t get nearly enough recognition or love.”
“Legacy, sir. Both my parents were Harvard alum.”
The old man eyed him intently. “Stallion? Who’s your father, son?”
“Matthew Stallion, sir.”