Mike waited. Sam put down the check copies but didn’t say anything else.
“Well?” Mike asked.
“What?”
“How are we going to explain your apparent signature on the checks?”
“I didn’t do it.”
“Okay, I hope the handwriting expert agrees.” Mike put the papers in his briefcase, clicked it shut, and put his hands on top of it. He spoke in measured tones. “After I reviewed the file, I talked with Melissa Hall. If you agree to plead guilty to a misdemeanor charge of illegally borrowing money from a nonprofit organization, you would receive six months on probation with no jail time or monetary fine. The offer will remain open for ten days then it will be withdrawn, and we go to trial.”
“Say again?”
Mike repeated the basis and terms of the plea bargain.
“Do people do that?” Sam asked.
“What?”
“Plead guilty when they didn’t do anything wrong?”
“It happens, and there are court cases that allow it. The fear of going to jail is a strong motivator. Sometimes it’s easier to take something certain and avoid the possibility of a harsh sentence.” Mike paused. “There is also the danger of prison. You saw what happened to you at the local jail. A state facility can be a hundred times worse.”
“What are you trying to tell me? I hear fear in your voice.”
“Aren’t you afraid?”
Sam managed a weak smile. “I’ve been in tight spots in the past and always saw Papa come through in the end. Sometimes I suffered before help arrived; other times I escaped from the mouth of the lion. I’m not sure which kind of situation I’m facing. Have you ever told an innocent client to plead guilty?”
“I’ve had a few who told me they were innocent, but when the DA put an offer on the table they jumped on it. They were probably guilty but wouldn’t admit it.” Mike continued more slowly, “I’ve never advised an innocent client to plead guilty, but I wish I’d encouraged Danny Brewster to do so. He trusted me and would have done anything I suggested. There was an offer on the table prior to trial that would have given him twelve months in jail and the rest of his time on probation. If he’d taken a deal, he might be alive today.”
“Papa kept that boy in His hand and—”
“I know,” Mike interrupted. “But I can’t ignore what happened when he went to prison.”
Sam reached out and put his hand on Mike’s shoulder. “And you wouldn’t be a true pastor if you did.”
Mike looked into Sam’s eyes. “Do you want to consider the offer and talk it over with Muriel?”
“I’d best not mention it to Muriel. She’s so worried about me going to jail, she can’t rest at night. Most nights I wake up several times, but she’s always been able to sleep through anything. Now, she’s often awake when I come out of a dream.”
“So what should I tell Melissa Hall?”
Sam looked past Mike’s shoulder for a moment before answering. “Tell her Papa is going to turn her mourning into dancing and restore the song she thought she’d lost.”
“And after I deliver that message, do I turn down the plea deal?”
“I don’t see the apostles telling lies to get out of jail, and I don’t intend to start either. How could I lose in court? I’ve got the best lawyer in the world.”
“Don’t say that about me,” Mike replied.
Sam shook his head “If you think I meant you, think again.”
IT WAS TOO LATE IN THE AFTERNOON TO RETURN TO THE church, so Mike drove home. Peg and Judge weren’t there. Mike leafed through the mail then noticed the blinking light on the answering machine in the kitchen. He pressed the Play button.
“I know you’re recording this message, which is fine with me,” a voice said. “I like to record conversations, too. I’ll be at the office until six o’clock. Give me a call to set up a meeting.”
Mike dialed the direct number for Braxton Hodges’s desk. The reporter answered on the second ring.
“Where are you?” the reporter asked.
“At home.”
“What were you doing at the courthouse this afternoon?”
“Meeting with the judge on the Miller case. I didn’t see you.”
“I was driving by and saw you come out the front door. Are you in the mood for a hamburger tomorrow?”
“I don’t have to be in the mood.”
“Meet me at Brooks at noon.”
“Can’t you talk to me now?” Mike asked.
“No.”
The phone clicked before Mike could ask another question.