30 Days of Justis

by John Ellsworth

  Massingill opens his eyes and peers into the mirror. His mouth drops open and tears stream down his face. His wife-beater now shows a bloody Mickey beneath a shower of teardrops.

  "Was she worth it?" Marcel asks, standing and coiling the machine's hose around his hand. "Did you get your money's worth?"

  Massingill cannot speak.

  "If I ever hear of you having sex with any human again in your stupid life," Marcel hisses, "I will be back. You don't want me to come back."

  Massingill nods. "Yessir."

  Marcel motions the young man to stand up and guides him back to the other room, pressing him gently down upon the bamboo couch. Marcel bends and lifts Massingill's feet back onto the footstool.

  "Comfy?"

  There is only crying. There are no words.

  "I think we're about done here, Cache's daddy."

  The kid's eyes jerk up at me in terror. I can only smile and shake my head. Then I tell him, "Your life just developed a significant problem." I sound every bit like a lawyer. It cannot be helped.

  Massingill is blubbering, looking away, tossing his head back and weeping.

  "Keep it zipped up," Marcel whispers. Then he delivers a powerful fist to the guy's groin. "Zipped."

  Then we're gone.

  DAY 19/30

  I can't sleep—not after all that.

  I'm up all night drafting and fitting together the pieces of the new appellate brief, but it's still not finished. On the other hand, filing the notice of appeal and request for an emergency hearing in the Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit is a simple matter. Logging onto Pacer and clicking a button gets the job done within minutes. It's 6:44 a.m. when I finish.

  Now I've got the whole day ahead of me to finish and file the brief itself. But I'm missing a critical piece of evidence from Cache. It's time to drive over and visit her. It's how I want to pass the day anyway, spending every minute with her that I can.

  Time to get dressed; then I stop. I hear Leo crying out in his bedroom. So I head down the hallway to keep him company. Verona meets me there. "I know you want to go to Purdy. How about if we take Leo to see his mama again?"

  "You know, that's a terrific idea, but I think this time I want to take my recorder and go alone. I'll dictate my appellate brief and be ready to get it typed up."

  "You've asked for an emergency hearing?"

  "I have. I'm praying they'll handle it on that basis. We've got eleven days is all."

  "Well, we'll miss you around here, but I understand. I think I'll find a dinosaur museum and take Leo today. Something he can have fun with. He's been ignored for way, way too long and needs lots of one-on-one. When you have his mama out of prison, and back home with us, she'll need a lot of time to be with him."

  "Wait a minute," I say. "Did you just say ‘back home with us'?"

  "I did. I want Cache to come to D.C. with us and let us help her get a new start."

  "You're reading my mind."

  "I know you. But I want her, too. She's our daughter. Besides, Millie's had her chance. I think Cache would be glad to be out of this place. Too many old memories. Too many slippery places. She needs a new crowd, a do-over."

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out. It's Marcel. I don't want to talk to him right now, so I refuse the call.

  I'm in the bedroom, holding Leo and making faces with him when my phone vibrates again. I don't bother to fish it out of my pocket this time—Leo and I are busy doing alligator faces.

  Fifteen minutes later, I'm filling my thermos for the drive down to Purdy when my phone vibrates yet again. Marcel calling. This time I answer.

  "Where the hell you been?" he says without any niceties up front.

  "Playing with Leo. What's up?"

  "It's Franklin Lemongrass. He's been found shot to death in his parking garage at work. The cops are interviewing everybody. I just wanted to give you a heads-up."

  "Why me?"

  "The other day coming out of court. One of the deputies saw you go chasing up the aisle after Lemongrass. The deputy didn't do anything because I stepped between you two. My guess is no one around the courts much cares for Lemongrass. But that's only speculation. Anyway, that deputy remembered you, and now the FBI called me, looking for you."

  "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. I'm sure I’m not the only one he's offended."

  "It's the murder of a high profile victim. The FBI wants in."

  "But murder isn't federal in a case like this."

  "It is in this one. It turns out Lemongrass also served as tax counsel for the U.S. Trustee in bankruptcy court. That makes it federal."

  I don't know what to say. Lemongrass is dead, and the FBI wants to talk to me? This cannot be happening.

  Marcel speaks again. "You haven't purchased any firearms out here in Washington, have you?"

  "No."

  "Wait one; I've got an incoming from the agent who called me. Be right back."

  So the phone goes dead, and my coffee isn't getting any hotter. I've also made a tuna fish sandwich and have made a mess of this mini-kitchen area. I screw the lid down onto the thermos. Not wanting to leave my mess for Verona, I go about cleaning up.

  Phone again.

  "Who was it, Marcel?"

  "FBI. They've made an arrest. A guy we were seen with at Troxell's Restaurant out on East Sprague. Remember the girls we met—the ones Inder Singh brought to us?"

  "I do."

  "It's Inder they arrested. FBI says he wants you to defend him. He's also told them you have the kid. CPS wants the kid. What about defending Singh? What do I say?"

  "Impossible. I'm not licensed in Washington."

  "But you are in federal court all the way up to the Supreme Court of the United States."

  "Sorry, Marcel. My daughter is the only thing I think about lately."

  "I don't doubt it. So what about it? You going to talk to Inder?"

  "Why should I?"

  "Feds know everything. It seems he was sued for paternity by the State of Washington to make him pay support for Leon Russell Evans."

  "Leo?"

  "Yes. The blood tests ID'd Mr. Singh as your grandson's father."

  "Oh, hell, no!"

  "Sorry to ruin your perfectly good day, Michael. But I think you need to step up for Inder Singh, mainly out of self-defense."

  "I don't understand the connection. How am I involved?"

  "Look, CPS told the FBI they were looking for Leo. They've declared him at risk. They'll take custody and place him."

  "Place him? I'm the grandfather."

  "But you're a non-resident. They won't place him with you while you're living out-of-state."

  "Why not?"

  "It seems Singh has got a sister here who's a physician. A pediatrician. She wants temporary custody."

  "That's not going to happen!"

  "Slow down, Boss. I recommend you hire an attorney. Someone to represent your interests in the juvenile case that's going to be filed today."

  "I suppose you told them Leo's whereabouts?"

  "Boss, I didn't. But seriously, how long do you think it's gonna take the FBI to find you in a hotel in Spokane?"

  "Whatever. I'm headed out to Purdy. Wanna go along?"

  "I don't think so. I'm gonna snoop around this Lemongrass thing just a bit."

  "You're going to play detective?"

  "Are you forgetting I used to be one?"

  "I know, I know."

  "You're gonna want custody, am I right?"

  "You're right."

  "What if you get Cache out of jail?" Marcel is testing me now.

  "I'm still going to want custody. She blew her chance at custody, at least until she rehabs."

  "Boss. Cache is your kid."

  "So is Leo my grandson. He needs an advocate in all this. I'm just the one."

  "Custody is pretty firm?"

  "Yes. I can't lose him."

  "Then I'm gonna dig a little bit into the background of Dr. Wanda Singh."


  "Inder's sister?"

  "One and the same."

  "You're one step ahead of me on everything this morning, Marcel."

  "Isn't that what you pay me for? See, your money's well-spent, Boss."

  "I've never worried about that for a second."

  "Have a safe trip, Boss."

  We end it. I go in to kiss Verona goodbye. Leo holds out his arms, and I swoop him up. He pats my face. "Did you shave?" he asks.

  "Where did you hear that?"

  "I don't know."

  "I'll see you later, okay?"

  "You see my mama?"

  "I am. Yes."

  "Take me, please, grandpa."

  "You're going to do something fun with grandma today."

  Tears roll across his eyes. But I'm resolute. I do need to dictate on the drive down. Marcel could've helped with that.

  "Let me hold you," Verona intercedes. "Do you want to see a dinosaur today?"

  "Yes!"

  "Let's find out if Spokane has a dinosaur museum, shall we?"

  "Jurassic Quest is in town. I looked when I had my coffee earlier. This was bound to come up."

  "Then that's where we'll go. Oh, Leo, dinosaurs that move and growl!"

  Leo can't stop smiling. All is well here. So, I'm off for Purdy.

  I'm an hour northeast of Purdy when my phone startles me. I've been dictating into my handheld—the best fifty dollars I've ever spent on devices, incidentally. I hit STOP and take the call.

  "Michael Gresham here."

  "Mr. Gresham, this is Warden McCann calling from Purdy. Have you got just a minute?"

  "I do."

  "I'm calling about your daughter. She's stopped eating. She refuses water and coffee. Won't take anything by mouth. I went down and talked to her. She says she's done fighting, that she wants to get it over with."

  "The execution?"

  "She wants us to accelerate it. She says it was a good idea, to begin with, and she wishes you'd lost in court. She wants to die today, Mr. Gresham. That's not going to happen, but she is on suicide watch. I hate to see a prisoner have such terrible last days."

  "What, you've seen prisoners who had good last days? Happy last days? What are you talking about, ‘terrible last days?' They are terrible!"

  "I just thought you should know, sir."

  "I'm sorry. Just upset. I'm on my way there now. I'll talk to her."

  "No need to apologize. I've never been in your shoes. We're not here to make her unhappy."

  This stops me. What in the hell doesn't she understand about "execution"?

  "Look, Warden McCann, you're not there to make her unhappy, we know that. But you are there to kill her, and she knows that. It's no wonder she's withdrawn. It's no wonder she won't take the food you're giving her."

  "Just one more thing before we hang up. Cache said something that was relayed up the pipeline to me. She was sitting in her cell, talking to one of the guards, when she said ‘Don't tell anyone, but I'm not going to let you people murder me. I'm going to do it myself before it's your turn. I'm outta here."

  "Is there any possible way she could kill herself?"

  "She's on suicide watch, so, no. Well, not unless someone passed her a knife or something. Then she could. But that's not going to happen."

  "You can guarantee that?"

  "Almost."

  "Goodbye, Warden. I'll see her soon, and we'll talk."

  "‘Bye, Mr. Gresham."

  Cache is already waiting for me in the conference room when I arrive. The guard says Cache was brought early just to give her a break from the monotony of her cell. Besides, she says, everyone likes her and wants her well-fed; maybe the changeup will help.

  When I walk in, she stands up—no waist chains, no ankle chains—and steps to me. "Give me a big hug," she says. "Don't ever let me go."

  I whisper to her, "I'll never let you go. Ain't gonna happen."

  She buries her face in my shoulder. Then we take a seat. Someone has given her a pack of cigarettes. I see when she goes to light up that she even has a BIC. I wonder if this is common, the guards plying her with gifts and comforts before their employer murders her? Is it their guilt compelling them to bestow favors? And I thought she was on suicide watch—a cigarette lighter? Really?

  "How are you doing? Not so good, I hear."

  "Not very good, Michael. I just want to get the whole mess over with. They told me Inder got arrested and they were going to place Leo with Wanda. She's a witch, and I do not want my son with her. She's always gone all day. I don't want Leo around that, never having anyone nearby who loves him. Do you blame me?"

  "No, I don't blame you. I want Leo with me. Especially now. No sudden changes after we've spent the last week with him and he likes us. Plus, we've brought him here to see you; which he wants to do again."

  "And she won't do any of the things you and Verona do. She works from six in the morning until ten at night. Where does Leo fit in that? It's depressing."

  "Is that why you won't eat? You're depressed over Leo?"

  "Wouldn't you be?"

  "I would. But I also wouldn't be willing to give up the fight. I heard you've told them that you just want to get it over with. You want the execution moved up and done with. Does that sound like what you've told them, Cache?"

  "I'm done fighting. Every day that I don't win, I lose. I can't take more losing. Every day doesn't feel like one step closer to my execution. Every day feels like ten days. It's excruciating. Please, just let them end it, Michael. I'm begging you to step aside and let me go."

  She's looking at me with those big, pleading eyes that have melted me since I first met her. She is getting harder and harder to turn down the longer I sit here. Dammit, she doesn't have all that much to live for in her view. But I also know that I can give her a life worth living by helping her get resettled one day at a time, getting her little boy back one day at a time as she rehabs, and just being there for her. That's what she needs more than anything, is someone in her corner. That someone who wants to be there is me. I would do anything to help."

  "Do this for me, please. Try to turn this case over to me. Just let it go. Just walk away. Just say to yourself that your dad is here and he is going to get you out of here. Continue with mealtime, eat what they give you, exercise when given a chance. And take advantage of those hot showers. Anything you can do to make Cache feel better, do it. While you're busy with all that, I'm busy with getting you out of here."

  "Really? You honest-to-God believe you can get me out?"

  "I really, honest-to-God do. Washington is just like the rest of the U.S. There are honest people running the systems out here, and they vastly outnumber the idiots like Lemongrass and the creeps like Larsyn. We're just about to call out for help to three of them on the U.S. Court of Appeals, and I think those men and women are going to see the kangaroo court you've been subjected to and they're going to turn you loose. Down deep in my heart, I believe this. Please believe along with me. I'm going to make it happen, Cache. Good will finally prevail."

  "Holy shit, I hope your closing argument is that good," she suddenly laughs, a complete turnaround from the depressed woman I walked in on just a short time ago.

  "Good, huh?"

  "Mister, you can speak night into day with all that. All right, you got me. Let's win this and give Leo back to his mom."

  "We'll talk about that last part. First, we deal with you, Cache. Then with you and Leo."

  "Lead on."

  "No need. You're staying put right here while I go to Seattle and do my thing at the Court of Appeals. Then I'll come back for you, and we'll go home together."

  "Wow. You are almost having me believing all this."

  "You can take it to the bank."

  "But what if you're wrong? What if the absolute worst happens?"

  My mouth is dry. It had to come to this point, didn't it, given the topic.

  "What if your execution proceeds? Then I will be there with you, holding your hand, praying for
you, carrying your love for Leo in my heart and making sure he knows your love is still alive in the world for him. He will know his mom."

  "All right, then. I'm gonna go eat. I could eat a cow."

  "Tell them, don't tell me. I do law, not cows."

  "You do freedom, Michael. I'm believing in you."

  "You won't regret it."

  As I'm leaving the prison a half-hour later, I'm regretting the whole conversation. I may have just told my daughter the biggest lie of her life.

  But I tell myself I didn't have any other choice.

  The BIC lighter was taken away as soon as she left the conference room. So at least they're keeping track—as far as I can tell. I don't feel entirely safe about Cache; you can't ever feel safe about someone in prison. There's just no such thing.

  I leave the prison in my rearview mirror, and I'm quite sad as I go. I say a prayer and leave it alone. But then at the first stoplight, I'm rubbing my sleeve across my eyes.

  I love this kid, and this is killing me, if not her.

  I pull into the first coffee shop I can find. The waitress plops a plastic menu in front of me and asks, "Coffee?"

  "With cream," I tell her. I already know how bad it will taste—I could smell the burn just as soon as I walked in the door. But I have calls to make and burnt coffee is better than no coffee just now.

  Seattle is where the Court of Appeals is located. It will be Cache's last hope and my last opportunity to save her. I make a call. The Hyatt in Seattle has room for us all. I'm able to reserve a suite with two bedrooms on the same floor as the swimming pool. Leo is going to enjoy this one.

  Then I open my laptop and log into my travel account. Two tickets, one for Verona and one for Leo are purchased, Spokane to Seattle. We're changing our area of operations. The war has moved west.

  Verona has been awaiting my call. What about Lucky? She'll call the airline and get back to me about Lucky.

  Ten minutes later, she calls me back. It's our lucky day: dogs fly free.

  I down my coffee—not so bad after all—then I place a call to the jail where Inder Singh is being held. He's very grateful I've called him—at least at first. But then I break the bad news: I cannot represent him because he and I have a conflict of interest: we both want custody of Leo. I think he understands why I can't ethically represent him in his criminal case while I'm duking it out with him in the custody case. It just isn't going to happen. He asks me whether I have any recommendations for another lawyer. For just a moment, I consider giving him Kelly Larsyn's number, but he must already have that. Good luck if that's where he turns next.