The Cartel Lawyer by Dave Daren (popular books to read .TXT) 📗

“Ugh, we’re going to be waiting forever,” Camilo whined when we stopped in front of our courtroom.

“We’re the first case,” I reminded him.

Stephen was across the hall from us on a bench with a lanky teen that had shaggy brown hair that fell into his light-brown eyes. The young man glanced up from his phone when he heard his friend’s voice and gave Camilo a small wave.

“Camilo Fuentes and Jimmy Suarez,” a middle-aged woman in the blue-gray bailiff’s uniform called as the door next to us opened.

“Here,” I said while I stepped forward and motioned for my young client to follow me.

As we walked into the small courtroom the other doors in the hall began to open and other cases were called as the day began.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Osvaldo told his son as the teen and I sat next to Stephen and Jimmy at the defense’s table.

Camilo had already donned his repentant face, and when I glanced over I saw that Jimmy attempted to mimic the downcast eyes and small frown that my client wore.

The prosecutor, Sheila Jones, walked into the courtroom with a small coffee in her hand. Her black kitten heels dug into the thin carpet and her black dress hugged her well-formed curves. She had her long brown curls held out of her face with a clip, and the pale pink lipstick she wore stayed in place as she swigged the last of her morning brew. She looked over and smiled at our table as she set her briefcase down, and then began to pull out two thin files.

“All rise for the Honorable Judge Williams,” the female bailiff said once we had all arrived.

The door in the front wall opened and a portly man with a small mustache and gray hair waddled out of the judge’s chamber. His black robes were tight around his middle, it pulled up in the front to reveal his expensive black slacks. His shoes were the same expensive, shiny Italian leather that Camilo wore, and I wondered if the judges had been granted a pay raise I hadn’t heard about.

“You may be seated,” the older man said with a wave of his hand as he eased into his brown leather chair.

I hadn’t presented a case before the judge before, though I’d looked over his record during the weekend. He was relatively new to the bench and mostly handled juvenile cases. He seemed to be a stickler for procedure, though he’d been handing out harsher sentences recently. But I was confident that with Sheila behind us, the boys would be sentenced to diversion and a fine.

“What’s this case?” the judge asked as he flipped through his file. “Ah, yes. Fuentes and Suarez.”

“The state is comfortable with two-hundred-and-fifty hours of community service,” Sheila said when the older man went silent. “We suggest that Jimmy Suarez pay a fine of five-thousand dollars and the driver, Camilo Fuentes, pay the maximum ten-thousand dollars.”

“Camilo Fuentes is willing to pay the fine and looks forward to making amends for his lapse of good judgement,” I offered as the judge shut the file with a shake of his head.

“Jimmy Suarez is--” Stephen was cut off by the older man as he held up a hand.

“Both boys will be sentenced to three years at the Everson Juvenile Detention Center,” the judge declared.

“Objection!” I shouted as the judge reached his pudgy hand toward his gavel.

“Objection, your honor,” the prosecutor gasped, her eyes wide in disbelief, and her mouth agape.

“Next case,” the older man said as he pounded his gavel.

“What just happened?” Camilo asked as the bailiff and another court officer came forward to cuff the two teen boys.

“I have no idea,” I muttered as I turned from the round judge to my young client.

For the first time since I had met him he looked scared, and he almost pulled away from the bailiff when she held up the handcuffs for him.

“I thought you said it would be community service,” he accused me as I stepped aside to let the court official do her job.

“It should have been,” I replied as I glanced over to an equally bewildered Stephen. “Don’t worry, I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

A shiver of rage ran down my spine as I watched the dark-haired teen be led out of the courtroom with his friend right behind him.

“I’m so sorry,” Sheila said as she teetered over on her kitten heels.

“It’s not your fault,” I comforted the beautiful woman, though I wanted to scream at the fat man on the bench.

“I can’t believe he didn’t even listen to the prosecutor,” my former colleague said with a shake of his head.

“It’s insane,” I replied as I gathered my briefcase.

“Jipato,” Osvaldo said from behind me.

His face was dark with the barely controlled anger that burned in his eyes. He looked toward the door and then stormed out of the room with Alvaro right behind him. The other two attorneys glanced at me, but all I could do was shrug my shoulders before I followed after them.

Both men were tense as they walked along the hallway, and everyone quickly jumped out of the way. The pair radiated malice, and I’d even seen one of the courthouse guards use his radio as they passed. But both men marched unimpeded to the exit, and I followed close behind them.

The heat of the day was oppressive when I left the safety of the courthouse lobby behind. The steps were littered with lawyers, police, and clients that all studiously ignored the fuming cartel man and his tall, muscular shadow. I was tempted to stay in the crowd, but my client wasn’t the only one they ignored. A few sympathetic looks were cast my way, but no one was actually