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The gavel taps the sound block, and I suck in a breath that I hold as I approach my client, slowly exhaling as I sit. I turn to him and want to choke him.
“Art, what are you doing?”
I’m never this informal, but maybe it’ll sink in if I’m kinder.
“I changed my mind. You’re right. The preponderance of evidence says I’m guilty. Why drag this out? I have a family. I need to think about them.”
“And getting shanked in prison is going to help them?”
“I— I —That won’t happen.”
“Because the Nowakowskis are going to pay protection money for you? Is that what you think is going to happen? You’ll be their mole, and they’ll keep you safe. But what happens when you run out of usefulness? What happens if they don’t like what you have to say?”
“I’m not going to be a—”
“Don’t lie to me. Why else are they here but to be sure you send yourself to prison? Cohenour may not sound Greek, but I know your connection. Why aren’t they representing you? Why aren’t they here to protect you from the Polish?”
“Because they washed their hands of me. Some of my victims were members of our community. They’re more likely to have someone go after me than the Polish are. I trust their protection way more. There are former Soviets locked up with Polish Mob ties. Bartlomiej promised they’d help out. They’re ruthless.”
“And when they turn on you? Because they will, Art. What happens when you have no one, and you’re in there for years?”
“I might die in there, but I will definitely die out here if I don’t go.”
“Then you admit you made your plea under duress.”
“That I won’t admit to. Ms. O’Malley, this is my choice.”
“And as your lawyer, I must advise you against this.”
We’re going to go around and around, but I keep trying until the bailiff calls the court back into order. I stand to address the judge, but Cohenour stands again.
“Your Honor, I confer—”
“Ms. O’Malley, you’re fired.”
I blink twice before I turn toward my client who has clearly gone around the bend.
“What?”
I hiss at him.
“You’re going to keep trying to defend me.”
No shit.
The judge is not impressed with this spectacle. Neither am I.
“Your Honor—”
“No, Ms. O’Malley. Your client has made his view clear. Bailiff, escort the defendant out where he will be remanded into the custody of the New York City Police to await further inquiry.”
At least, the judge is going to examine into his plea, even if I no longer represent him. I watch the bailiff leads Cohenour away, now in handcuffs. I look over at Diane, and for once, she’s stunned silent. I gather my belongings after I nod to her. I focus on the judge as I slide my laptop into my bag. She looks annoyed and bewildered at the same time. She looks the way I feel. Once I have my stuff together, I turn toward Carmine. I notice most of the gallery has cleared out, but the Nowakowskis remain, Luca still sitting behind them.
“Are you ready?”
Carmine’s voice permeates my clouded thoughts.
“Yeah. I don’t even know what the fuck just happened, but I suspect they happened.”
