After Zach left, I went to the downstairs copy room, and after one false start, navigated my way through the codes and buttons to make the copies. I organized Zach’s folder exactly the same as my own and took it to his office. He wasn’t there so I left it on his desk. On the corner near the photograph of his parents was a light blue envelope with Zach’s first name written in a woman’s hand across the front.
I used one of the computer terminals in the library to research Moses’ background. There were countless defendants named Jones, but only one with the first name Moses. I found a felony conviction for illegal transport of moonshine whiskey that corroborated Zach’s suspicion that Moses’ brain had been damaged by alcohol. I didn’t know much about bootleg liquor, but I’d read that a bad batch could cause blindness, brain damage, or death. The county database didn’t reveal any other convictions or subsequent arrests.
It was close to 5:00 p.m. when I called the district attorney’s office. After waiting on hold for several minutes, the woman who answered the phone told me the case had been assigned to an assistant DA named Margaret Smith.
“May I speak to her?” I asked.
After another long wait a female voice came on the line. “This is Maggie Smith.”
I identified myself and the purpose for my call.
“My first taste of the criminal justice system came when I was a summer clerk for the Braddock firm,” she said. “I’ll never forget it. My client was charged with simple battery of his fifteen-year-old stepson. I wanted to see my client behind bars, not set free. That case, and the fact that Braddock, Appleby, and Carpenter has never hired a female attorney, are two big reasons why I decided to be a prosecutor.”
“How many other female summer clerks have worked at the firm?”
“Several, but no women have ever made it onto the letterhead. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice place to spend the summer and looks decent on your résumé, but unless things have changed, there won’t be an opportunity for employment after law school. The history of male bias at the firm is conclusive, and everyone in town knows it.” Smith paused. “Hold on while I pull the Jones file. I don’t recall seeing it come across my desk.”
While I waited, I wondered why God would miraculously open a door of opportunity with a brick wall behind it.
“I have it,” the assistant district attorney said.
“When did you work here?” I asked, still thinking about her comments.
“Five years ago. Try to forget what I said. I guess I’m still bitter at the double standard. You might be the one to break the gender barrier.”
“There’s another girl at the firm this summer.”
“Really? I was the only female clerk my year.”
“Did they hire an associate?”
“Yeah, Ned Danforth, but he never clerked. Let’s see now, twenty-four counts of simple trespass. Can’t your client read a No Trespassing sign?”
“Actually, I’m not sure he can read. Were there signs posted on the docks?”
“I don’t know. It’s not a legal requirement to post private property. Look, I know Joe Carpenter wants you to gain experience by making my life miserable with motions and frivolous hearings, but I don’t have time to play games. There are a lot of serious cases on my docket. Do your investigation; talk to everyone who lives on the Little Ogeechee River if you like; then make me a plea offer. If it’s reasonable, I’ll recommend it. On a case like this, I doubt Judge Cannon will give us a problem, and your client can get on with his life.”
“Okay.”
I wondered if I would sound as confident and forceful as Maggie Smith after I’d been practicing law for five years.
“And best of luck to you and the other girl working at the firm. There’s always a first time for everything. If you get a job offer, I’ll buy you a double of your drink of preference.”
“That would be sweet tea for me.”
“Whatever. Get back to me with your proposal.”
A few minutes after I hung up the phone, Julie returned, looking frazzled.
“Do you like dogs?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I wish Mr. Carpenter had given you my case. Ned and I got a list of the State’s witnesses to interview. We drove through several run-down neighborhoods trying to track down people and ask them what they’d seen. I’ve never run into so many dogs in my life. Ned is allergic to dogs so he sent me to knock on doors.” Julie pointed to her right leg. “Can you see the dog slobber on my pants?”
I leaned forward. There was a distinct shiny streak from mid-thigh to below her knee.