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I GOT THE TWENTY

Riches galore

By James S. LawrencePublished 3 years ago 6 min read
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Can I go back yet?

I GOT THE TWENTY

I had to go down and see Barney once he called. He would fix my car. I would get him out of fixes. I gave him the usual advice, don’t say anything to the police, don’t say anything to the other prisoners. I asked who he wanted me to call. “No one,” he said.

“It always helps to have a supporter there when they set bond. Plus, who’s going to pay your bond?”

“Just get me released without any bond. They know I showed up for court last time. They said 1:30 pm, so you can sleep in. Like usual.”

I checked out with the officer at the main desk. Before he gave me back my license and car keys two cops brought in Mrs. Sweetmore. I never met her before, but I sure recognized her from the commercials for Sweetmore Dodge.

“Sign here, counselor,” said the desk officer. I did and he handed over my stuff.

“Are you a lawyer?” cried out Mrs. Sweetmore. “I want to hire you, right now!”

“I’m representing this lady, officers. She invokes her right to remain silent. I’d like to confer with her privately now.” I figured if there was anyone I could trust to pay the fees, it would be Mrs. Sweetmore. Since I would be representing Barney for free, I could use the money.

The desk officer said, “If you wait there, you’ll get your chance. It’ll be about a half hour before we process her.”

“What’s the charge?” I asked.

“Vehicular manslaughter, counselor. She blew point one seven. The nurse is about to draw her blood for a blood test.”

“We object!” I exclaimed confidently. And pointlessly.

I finally did get to see her in the back. It turns out she was never arrested before. She didn’t seem to like it much. She was afraid that the other prisoners wouldn’t be nice to her. She wanted me to keep her name out of the news. Like I control the news. I tried to fill her with confidence by telling her about other cases I had won.

“What did you tell the police?” I asked.

“They said they needed to know where I had been drinking, so I told them it was Topp’s Lounge. But I told them I only had two drinks.”

I explained it usually was better not to tell the police where to find witnesses against you.

“Did you confess to being the driver?”

“Not exactly, but they pulled me out of the driver’s seat, and I was the only one in the car.”

“Did you give them any excuse for driving?”

“Not me,” she announced proudly. “I know not to say anything to the cops.”

Anyway, I gave her the usual advice, and got her husband’s phone number. I asked her to call him before I did to let him know she was arrested and I would be calling. I figured when he heard her frantic voice he would be readier to pay up.

She didn’t talk about the guy she ran over.

When I called Mr. Sweetmore he was upset. It seems that he did not have much experience with the jail either. I filled him with fear, and told him of the time I got Alexander Jones off even though he blew point two six. I emailed him the contract. The next morning I had a cashier’s check for twenty thousand in my hand, and a possibility of getting even more, depending on my hours.

Yes, the inscrutable forces of the universe had taken me, a mere mortal, and placed in my possession $20,000 I had not possessed the day before. Riches beyond belief. The possibilities seemed endless. My life would be changed forever.

I couldn’t take it to Mr. Sweetmore’s bank to cash, because of the unfortunate circumstances under which my account there was closed. I had to bite the bullet. I brought it into my bank and deposited it, knowing that they would deduct $2,246.27 off the top. To make up for my negative balance. I think they also grabbed some overdraft fees. I was able to pay off my car payment, insurance payment, mortgage payment, health insurance, electric, gas, phone, internet, and office rent. Including the past due office rent. I still had over thirteen thousand left. That is, before I had to send Mr. Ortiz his refund. I still don’t know why he fired me, but now that he did, I did sort of owe him $8000. That left me with five thousand.

Before I left for court the mail came. I saw the letter from the IRS. They wanted over four thousand in back payments.

There was also a letter from the state tax bureau. I didn’t bother to open it. Instead I reached for the newspaper. Both Barney and Mrs. Sweetmore had gotten lucky. Neither one had made the news.

When I arrived at court, I saw we had gotten Judge Lincoln. That was a bad sign. Judge Lincoln normally tried to distance herself as far as possible from that other Lincoln. You know, the one who liked to set people free? The good thing was that I wouldn’t have Mrs. Sweetmore until 4 o’clock, and she was getting Judge Jennings.

I met Scott Jones in the attorney room. He wasn’t a bad guy, for a prosecutor. He said domestic violence third offense was a felony, however, this was my client’s lucky day. His girlfriend said it was all a big mistake, she lied to the nurse, he didn’t do anything, she tripped and fell down the stairs, and she wasn’t going to testify.

“I’m not sure if I can convict him without her testimony, but maybe I can. Take a look at these pictures.” He opened a big black book, with one photo after another. Barney’s girlfriend’s face looked like strawberry pudding.

Scott said, “I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If he’ll take a plea today to dv first offense, I’ll recommend probation and counseling. Yep, counseling. That should do the trick. Just like it did last time.”

I got a few seconds to talk to Barney, and he went for it. Barney solemnly admitted his guilt, and the judge released him on personal bond pending sentencing. She ordered him to stay away from Maria. “Not even a phone call or email or Twitter or Facebook. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, your Honor,” said Barney quietly. The judge ordered that he pay $75 court costs, today.

I waited over a half hour by the lockup door before Barney got out. He had $55. He looked at me pleadingly. I looked in my wallet: $24 left. With pride I told him, “I got the twenty.”

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About the Creator

James S. Lawrence

I would gladly trade you one of these A's from college for a hamburger today.

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