The Cartel Lawyer by Dave Daren (ebook reader below 3000 TXT) 📕

was still plenty of research to perform, but I’d had enough digging through databases for the moment. So instead, I went to check the roster for the day.. I glanced over the posted list and smiled when I saw that Judge Williams would have cases all day. I could sit in on a few and confirm my suspicions that he really was sending too many kids to Everson’s.

He was already on the bench when I snuck into the courtroom and slipped into one of the seats in the back. The current case involved a teen charged with vandalism. He’d tagged a stop sign and been caught by a cop with the can still in his hand. It was a first offense, nothing violent or costly, and he should’ve been given a slap on the wrist. Instead, Williams sentenced him to eight months in Everson’s.

The next was nearly the same. It involved another sixteen year old boy who’d been arrested for spray painting, this time one of the bridges that was perpetually covered in graffiti. He received a full year because it was the second time he’d been caught at that particular bridge, and he was sent to Everson Juvenile Detention Center.

I wanted to scream as the second teen was led away by the bailiff. I couldn’t believe the judge would sentence him to a juvie center for tagging a place that was literally covered in the work of every graffiti artist in the metro area. It should’ve been a fine and a bit of community service, but instead he would lose a year of his life in a place that seemed designed to crush the spirits of everyone sent there.

I was convinced the judge was corrupt because there was no other explanation for why he would send them to juvie for so long. I was more determined than ever to prove it, and I would see the pudgy disgrace of a magistrate taken off the bench if it was the last thing I did.

Before I could sneak out, another teen walked in with his hands in the pockets of his designer suit pants and a lawyer that I recognized from the website of Hancock, Garcia, and Smith. The lawyer had on a three-thousand dollar suit, and confidence wafted off of him as he strolled over to the defendant’s table and set down his spotless, black leather briefcase.

“Mr. Anthony Evans?” Judge Williams asked as he looked up from his file.

“Yes, your honor,” the teen answered with a cocky grin on his face.

“It seems you stole a car and wrecked it?” the magistrate asked with a small frown.

I tensed as I listened and waited for the pudgy man’s verdict. The judge had thrown the book at my client for when the car had been returned in perfect condition.

“Fifty hours of community service and a five-thousand dollar fine,” Judge Williams said with a bang of his gavel before anyone could say anything else.

My mouth almost fell open as I watched the judge stand to stretch. He was off to his lunch break, and I was almost positive that I saw the teen nod at him in approval. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and took down the young man’s name. He had to be from one of the more powerful families if he received such a light slap on the wrist even though he totalled the car he’s stolen.

I slipped out of the courtroom with everyone else, though my heart raced so fast I was surprised no one else could hear it. I wanted to scream at the injustice of it all as I watched the smarmy, unapologetic punk stroll along just ahead of me. The kid was already on his cell phone, and I could hear him laughing about the fifty hours of service he’d been handed.

The noonday sun beat down on me as I stormed to the parking garage, and sweat dripped down my spine and into my eyes. By the time I reached the cool shade of the concrete parking structure I was panting from my dash from the courthouse steps.

It took me a few times to get my key into the car door since my hands shook from my barely-contained rage, but after the third time I was able to yank the door open and slide inside. I tossed my briefcase into the passenger seat and cranked the engine.

I sat in my spot for a moment as I told myself I needed to calm down. I couldn’t help my client by punching the judge in the face, and it was too hot for a run, so I would just have to distract myself instead. I could check in on my mother since she was supposed to be at home. She could always bring a smile to my face when I was mad, and she might even have some advice on what to do next.

When I was feeling almost normal, I pulled out my cell phone and saw there was a text message. It was Eloa, who offered an apology for her bad behavior and then asked if we could meet again. I pondered the offer, and then decided she could wait a little longer. I didn’t want to see her while I was still so hot under the collar, and I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted to do about the kiss.

I took a steadying breath and then texted her that it was okay, that she shouldn’t worry about it, and that we could meet up after I’d had a chance to organize my files. I knew we’d need to talk about the kiss at some point, but I needed to keep my focus on the judge until I’d cleared Camilo.

The afternoon traffic had thinned out by the time I joined the fray, and I debated whether I should drive to see my mother or head back to