The Neon Lawyer
Page 15
Brigham felt weak and dizzy. His hand slipped out of Amanda’s. The lesser-included instruction had worked as it should have. It was a compromise between aggravated homicide and an acquittal. But the thought of Amanda spending the rest of her life in prison sickened him so much that he considered quitting right then and there, resigning from the Bar and never setting foot in a courtroom again.
“Mr. Theodore,” the judge said, leaning forward, “your client has the right to be sentenced in not less than two nor more than forty days. I suggest you waive minimum time for sentencing and be sentenced today.”
Vince looked from Brigham to the judge. “Your Honor, I would like a pre-sentence report prepared. I’d like the family of Mr. Moore to come in here and give their statements to the court. I need time.”
“It’s not your time to get, it’s hers. Ms. Pierce, do you want to wait and give Mr. Dale time to prepare, or do you want to go forward now?”
She peered at Brigham. He nodded.
“I’d like to go forward now.”
“Your Honor, I must object again,” Vince said, anger rising in his voice. “This is a first-degree felony. I need time to prepare for sentencing.”
“Noted. But I’m going forward today. Ms. Pierce, do you have anything to say?”
“No.”
“Then I’m proceeding with sentencing at this time. I’m ordering you to three years’ supervised probation through Adult Probation and Parole. I order you to complete a psychiatric assessment and provide proof to this court of your ongoing treatment during the length of probation. I am also ordering you to one hundred hours of community service and to pay restitution to the family of Mr. Moore for any burial costs. I am ordering no further violations of law with the exception of minor traffic offenses. That means if you commit another crime, I can sentence you to the maximum of six years to life at the Utah State Prison. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Good. I’m ordering your release today. Please set up the supervised probation within forty-eight hours. And Ms. Pierce, good luck to you.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.”
The bailiff unlocked the cuffs around her wrists. She stared in disbelief and turned to Brigham, who had the same look on his face. She kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“No . . . thank you.”
She pulled away from him, holding onto his hand until the last moment. She disappeared with the bailiff into the back room.
After Amanda and the judge left, Brigham sat on the defense table, staring at Molly, who had the widest smile he’d ever seen.
He looked over when Vince left the courtroom saying, “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
When they were alone, Brigham hopped off the table and threw his arms around Molly.
Thirty-three
The office was small and the heating didn’t work correctly. The receptionist out front was part-time for now until they could afford a full-time employee. In the back were three offices and a conference room. Scotty’s office was already packed with reams of paper, files that he’d been working on and off for the past few years. Molly’s was clean, everything in its place. Brigham’s was empty except for a desk, chair, and computer.
The offices above them were filled with engineers and the ones below with accountants. They were the only attorneys in the building, and in the three weeks they’d been there, every tenant had come with some sort of legal problem. They’d also gotten several clients who had seen the news coverage of the Amanda Pierce trial.
It was late evening, and Brigham had spent the entire day at a preliminary hearing on a drug case. His muscles felt weak, but his mind was sharp, excited, and on edge.
A bottle of scotch and a tumbler with ice sat on the desk. Brigham poured two fingers, his feet up on the desk as he relaxed back into the leather chair. He raised the glass.
To hopefully.
Acknowledgments
The author gives a big thank-you to Amazon and Thomas & Mercer, my editor Kjersti, and all the criminal defense lawyers slugging it out in the ring every day against monstrous odds and with little thanks.
This book is based on a true story, and I’ve recalled facts and events as best as I remember them. However, to protect the identities of my clients (and to not have judges and prosecutors throwing things at me for revelations in the book), I’ve changed names, dates, and locations, and truncated various events to fit the narrative.
If you enjoyed this book, please return to Amazon and leave a review. Reviews not only encourage authors to write more, they improve our writing. Shakespeare rewrote sections of his plays based on audience reaction, and modern authors should take a note from the Bard.
So please leave a review and know that I appreciate each and every one of you!
About the Author
Photo © 2014 FotoFly Studios
Victor Methos was born in Kabul, Afghanistan, and lived in Pakistan and Iran before permanently settling in the United States. A fluent speaker of several Middle Eastern languages, he studied science, philosophy, and religion at the University of Utah before attending law school. He’s worked as a prosecutor specializing in violent crime and is currently a criminal defense attorney. He divides his time between San Diego, Las Vegas, and Salt Lake City.