Unreasonable Doubts Read online

  Deb frantically shoved the legal pad in front of her: Shut up, Liana, right now. You are totally out of line!

  Liana looked at Deb, and seeing the concern on her friend’s face brought her back to reality. She sat down slowly and carefully—when did I stand up?—concentrating on her breathing and looking at her folded hands on the table. The entire room was engulfed by a shocked silence. Supervisors and staff attorneys alike sat motionless, as if wondering how they would go on after such an outburst. After what seemed like an eternity, Gerry rose from his seat.

  “Well, Franny, I agree with Liana that your legal issue is excellent,” he crooned. “But your impulse to seek the good in your client—that willingness to empathize and give of yourself emotionally, to open yourself to the possibility that your client does not belong behind bars—that’s what separates a great public defender from a merely competent one. It’s very hard to do this job if you don’t have the feeling, on some level, that there, but for the grace of God, go I. You would all do well to remember that.”

  After a moment of respectful quiet in recognition of the mayhem they had just witnessed, the attorneys started up their usual chatter, pushing back their chairs from the table and heading back to their offices. As Franny passed her, Liana reached out and touched her gently on the elbow.

  “I’m so sorry, Franny. I didn’t mean that as a personal attack. You’re doing great, and you’re going to win this case for Mr. Jackson. I’m just kind of out of sorts,” Liana said, feeling how desperately inadequate those words were to describe her state of mind.

  “It’s okay.” Franny took a couple of steps toward the door, then turned back. “The thing is . . .” Franny hesitated but met Liana’s eyes, which pleaded for a kind word, and went on. “The lawyers, especially the younger ones, we look up to you. You’re smart and generous with your time. If someone like you doesn’t believe in the mission of this place, and in these clients, it’s kind of like we’re all lost.” Franny hurried from the room, leaving Deb and Liana looking after her silently.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here. I think you’ve inflicted enough wounds on yourself for one day.” Deb held out her hand and practically lifted Liana out of the chair, and the two women walked solemnly back to their office.

  After lunch, Liana was feeling calmer, the debacle of the office meeting already fading in her mind into old news. So when she saw the note at the front desk—Liana, please stop by when you get back. Gerry—she was more than a little irritated.

  “Any idea what this is all about?” she asked.

  “Nope,” Tony replied.

  “He’s so . . .” Liana muttered under her breath.

  “No question there,” Tony said.

  Liana walked to her office to get a legal pad and a pen, a holdover habit from her days as a summer associate at the big corporate law firm, when she would be called to a partner’s office to take an assignment, not to get dressed down for some perceived offense. Deb wasn’t at her desk, which was unusual. She liked to drop Max at day care early, work her seven hours without a lunch break, and get back to the day care by four to pick him up. It was hectic, but the working mom thing, a necessity, was palatable to her only if she didn’t feel like strangers were raising her kid. The ex-husband was helpful but had already moved on to wife number two. Deb was realistic about the situation. “Max is my priority and my responsibility,” she’d said to Liana on more than one occasion.

  Liana sat down, hoping Deb would arrive and give her a shot in the arm before she faced Gerry. When there was no sign of her after a few minutes, she ran to the Starbucks in the lobby to grab a double espresso macchiato to calm her nerves; she was not about to let Gerry see her flustered. When she returned, she knocked lightly on his office door, and Gerry swiveled around from the computer so fast that Liana almost jumped backward.

  What’s he so eager to talk to me about?

  “Please, come in and sit down,” he said. Liana sat in one of the chairs opposite Gerry’s desk; the other chair was piled high with client files. His office was always a complete mess, his desk laden with paperwork in total disarray. Every inch of floor space was covered in cardboard boxes holding reams of legal research. Liana couldn’t fathom how he functioned in this clutter; her own office was always neat and organized.

  “How was your weekend?” Gerry asked her, as if this were a social call.

  “Fine.” Liana had once thought that she and Gerry might be friends. But nothing much had developed, and he took his role as her superior way too seriously for anything genuine to take root.

  “Liana,” Gerry began, sounding revved up, relishing the moment, “that was quite a performance you put on in the office meeting today.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Well,” Gerry said, “I don’t want to belabor this unnecessarily, but there’s been a perception of late that you don’t have the same positive attitude about our clients and about your role as their attorney as you did when you started working here. Perhaps ennui has set in or you’ve had a change of heart about the cases we handle. Your outburst at the meeting did nothing to dispel these concerns.”

  Liana was speechless. She had enough self-awareness to know she was having motivational difficulties, but she didn’t think it was terribly serious, and she didn’t think it was that obvious. Besides, she had done consistently excellent work, winning a number of reversals in high-profile cases—Jeremiah Clark’s included—that had made the front page of the New York Law Journal. How could she be chided if, with more experience, she was more realistic about the kind of people her clients were?

  When she was finally able to speak, she said, “I’m sorry. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Gerry was more than happy to elaborate. He sat back in his chair and stretched out his legs, looking up at the ceiling.

  “Perhaps I can explain it this way. You sometimes speak disparagingly about the clients, as though you believe the world would be a safer place if they remained in prison.” He paused dramatically. “This kind of work requires more of an attorney than just good research skills and persuasive writing and a competitive desire to win; it requires heart. We’re public interest lawyers—we need to believe in the guiding principles of the trusted position we hold. And the number one rule must be that we treat each client as an individual, with hopes and dreams, deserving of our energy and skill and passion, no matter what he may or may not have done to land himself in our care. Sometimes, Liana, it seems as though you don’t like our clients.”

  In a nanosecond, Liana went from stupefied to furious, but she managed to keep her expression and her tone of voice neutral.

  “You know, Gerry, I don’t consider liking my clients part of my job. I’m here to represent these people to the best of my ability, in a wholly professional manner. I raise the best legal issues I can find, and then I let the appellate court do its job in deciding who wins.”

  Gerry sat silently through Liana’s retort, looking only mildly perturbed. He had run the office for years, and no challenge from an upstart like Liana was going to rattle him.

  “No one is suggesting that you aren’t performing your duties. You’re an excellent attorney. I just wanted to let you know, as your friend, that it would be in your best interests to recommit wholeheartedly to the undertaking of the Public Defender’s Office if you want to keep working here. Cynicism is a disease, Liana, and it’s contagious. If your attitude about our clients starts to have a negative effect on the other attorneys, especially the younger ones, we’ll cut you out. It’s as simple as that.”

  Liana mulled over what Gerry had said. Her heart was racing, and when she spoke, she sounded as if she were underwater.

  “Well, I’ll get back to work. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  Liana got up from the chair and not-so-accidentally knocked a few of Gerry’s papers from the desk onto the floor, leaving them there as she walked out of his office. She felt totally drained, as if she had been hit over the head wit
h a big supervisory frying pan. She walked unsteadily down the hall to her office, where Deb was now sitting in front of her computer, and shut the door.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Deb said.

  Liana turned away from Deb and shuffled a few papers on her desk, trying to regroup and process what Gerry had said. Replaying the conversation in her mind, she put her head in her hands in a futile attempt to hide her emotions from Deb, who was sitting just inches away.

  “Hey, what’s eating you, Cohen? What’d I miss?” Deb respected resilience, so Liana sat up tall and turned to her with her best game face.

  “So apparently there’s a perception, quote unquote, that I’m jaded and I don’t like my clients,” Liana said.

  “No shit, Sherlock—that’s not exactly breaking news.”

  “What? How can you say that? I bust my butt every day for these guys!”

  “You’re careening toward burnout.”

  Liana looked at Deb as if she were speaking in another language.

  Deb rolled her chair even closer and put her hand reassuringly on Liana’s knee.

  “Look, we’re required to represent every impoverished Tom, Dick, or Harry that walks in the door, innocent or guilty. That’s our job. But you’ve stopped trying to find anything redeeming about the clients. You don’t even entertain in your mind the possibility of innocence anymore. It’s the negativity, the resignation, that Gerry can’t stomach.”

  Liana started to object and then decided there was no point. She hung her head and waited for Deb to dispense some wisdom that might help her salvage the situation.

  “And you talk too much. Everyone knows you think that virtually all of these guys are not only guilty but just plain bad. If you can’t be enthusiastic, at least be savvy. There are attorneys here—Gerry chief among them—who would swear that they’d bring every single one of these guys home to Mama. You have to remember who your audience is.”

  Can the Boss tell me how to feel about the clients? Am I really supposed to operate as though I “like” my murderers and pimps and drug dealers?

  “Do you want to keep this job, Liana?” Deb asked.

  “You know I do. But I can’t pretend these guys are saints when they’re . . .” Her voice was defiant but a single tear slipped down her cheek.

  Deb sat back in her chair and studied Liana.

  “You know what I think? I think you’re jealous of the other attorneys, especially the younger ones, and that’s why you lashed out at that meeting today.”

  “Jealous? You’re crazy. Why would I be jealous?” Liana said.

  “Because they’re hopeful. Someone like Franny comes to work believing that her next client could be someone really worth fighting for, maybe even someone innocent. You used to be that way—open to the possibility. You aren’t anymore, and you wish you still were.”

  “That’s not hopeful,” Liana said. “That’s delusional.”

  Deb shrugged. “Suit yourself. But listen to me, because I’m the only one here who’ll give it to you straight. What would really turn you around is a client you could believe in. But that’s not under your control. So put your nose in the law books, and go through the motions. Think what you want, but keep your mouth shut. Try it with your next defendant.” She wheeled her chair over to her filing cabinet and gave it a death stare. “Speaking of which, I’m going to give you a second chance to do me a favor since you failed so miserably on Saturday night.”

  Liana sighed. “Shoot.”

  “I need to transfer my next guy to you,” Deb said. “I’ll fix it up with Gerry.” She handed Liana a file marked “Daniel Shea.”

  “Why?” Liana asked. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing, as far as I know,” Deb said. “I’m just way behind on my caseload. His file has been sitting in my cabinet for almost seven months—soon he’s going to get hostile. If he waits for me, it will be another month before I get to him.”

  “You’re not trying to pawn off some disaster on me are you?” Liana asked. “Because that’d fit in with the kind of day I’m having.”

  “I swear I don’t know anything about him—I haven’t even written to introduce myself. He’s all yours. He’ll be the test case for your ‘all business, no empathy’ methodology.”

  As if to announce, “Case closed,” Deb turned back to her computer, her hands pressing on her lower back. Liana knew that Deb had her best interests at heart, even if her brutal honesty was hard to swallow. She made up her mind to follow Deb’s advice. She’d show Gerry that she could play the game her way—that she could be true to herself and still get the job done.

  But it would wait for tomorrow. She was late to meet Jakob.

  CHAPTER 2

  “I’ll have a Macallan, straight up, please.” Liana didn’t usually drink—at five feet four inches tall and barely 105 pounds, alcohol went straight to her head. But she knew that she wouldn’t get through the evening after the day she’d had without taking the edge off. Socializing with Jakob’s corporate colleagues, who wouldn’t know the Fourteenth Amendment from a Diet Coke commercial, was trying at the best of times. And these were not the best of times.

  The young bartender slid the glass across the mahogany bar, and Liana closed her eyes and threw back the shot. She could feel his eyes on her, taking in her rowdy blond curls, the pink lace tank top and snug blue jeans. She was pushing thirty, but she still turned heads.

  “Not your scene?” he asked.

  She looked around at the sea of suits. “Not exactly, no.” “Another one? I’m buying,” he said, smiling hopefully at her.

  “Nope. My boyfriend likes me mostly sober,” she said, turning her back to the bar and scanning the room for Jakob.

  It was the annual summer associates’ welcome get-together for the new crop of law students working at Jakob’s firm, Wilcox & Finney, and one of the very few social obligations connected to his job that Liana grudgingly attended. Jakob had sweet-talked her into coming. “These things are so tedious without you,” he had pleaded. “Won’t you be my arm candy?” He had sealed the deal with a promise to take her to the all-you-can-eat buffet at their favorite Indian restaurant on Twenty-Third Street as soon as they could make a decent escape.

  The event was always held in a space without much personality on the East Side, close to the office, so the partners and associates would have no excuse not to make an appearance and pretend to look interested in the chatter of the second and third year law students. Many of them had never worked or lived in New York City before and were still getting used to the outsized salary they were being paid for the gig, sometimes overdoing it in their after-hours escapades. Liana found the whole scenario disturbing.

  Another woman might have been self-conscious about her casual attire but not Liana. She appreciated the couture of the more senior women partners, who were decked out in Chanel and Carolina Herrera, but they were leading such different lives that it didn’t faze her. One of the upsides of her low-wage job was that she only had to put on a suit when she went to court. Liana owned one black lightweight wool number that she had bought during law school, and she hauled it out every month or two when she faced the judges. Otherwise, she was free to dress like the underpaid and underappreciated public servant she was.

  Jakob spotted her and waved none too subtly from across the room, where he stood tall in a clump of youngish partners, midlevel associates like him, and three fawning summer associates. Jakob was nice looking, in a very preppy, clean-cut sort of way. He had what her mother called “an honest face”—dirty blond hair, warm green eyes, and an engaging smile. He was the type of guy who looked as if he worked out more than he actually did; his broad shoulders, especially, were solid and sexy—Liana still got a little breathless when he went shirtless. She meandered over, and he put his arm around her waist, squeezing her close. The place was getting crowded and noisy, and he practically had to shout to be heard over the din, even though he was speaking right into her ear.

&n
bsp; “Thanks for coming, Li; I know you don’t love these things. It means a lot to me.”

  Liana looked up at him and saw how genuinely pleased he was to have her with him, and she felt a pang of guilt. She couldn’t control it—she had what felt like an allergic reaction to the law firm every time she got close, making it nearly impossible for her to share in Jakob’s professional life. Although she knew she shouldn’t take it out on him, it only got worse the more Wilcox & Finney wrapped its tentacles around him. But that was a problem for another day. For now, she just smiled.

  “I’m happy to be here,” she said.

  Jakob introduced the summer associates. “This is Tameka from Chicago Law School, and Max from Stanford, and Tiffany from Fordham”—the firm’s blatant attempt to show that it could be broad-minded about the pedigree of its summer associates, at least in very limited quantities. And to the attorneys from the firm, Jakob gave his usual intro: “You all know Liana. She pulled the old bait and switch on me. She could have been an associate here at Wilcox, raking in a hefty salary and keeping me in style, but instead she went to work at the Public Defender’s!” This never failed to get a laugh or a condescending smile from the attorneys. And, although it was technically accurate, it wasn’t quite true.

  They had, indeed, met when they were summer associates together at Wilcox four years earlier, after their second year in law school. Jakob had made a hugely positive impression on everyone he worked with, both with regard to his legal assignments and in his navigation of the social niceties. At the summer outing at Glen River Country Club, he played golf with the head of the hiring committee and conversed easily with the most senior partners at the five-star-restaurant lunches the firm sponsored to woo the top law students. Jakob was determined—Wilcox & Finney was the pinnacle of New York law firms, and he wanted in.