In A Hicktown

Chapter 1: Hit Me With Your Best Shot

The handsome young man dressed in a moderately expensive grey suit urgently strode towards two of his colleagues, the newest HTC model pressed to his ear. The other two junior associates, one pretty blond in a tailored navy blue suit and another young man in black, caught sight of the man in grey striding towards them and opened their closed conversation. “Well?” asked Black Suit, his anxiety making him openly testy.


Grey Suit hung up unceremoniously and pocketed the phone in his jacket. “It’s tight. The jury has two good arguments they have to choose from. I can’t anticipate a decision from the jury one way or the other and neither can my source.”


“The prosecutor has the stronger stance,” the blond said confidently, raising her head a trifle high.


“Sleeping with the boss’ boss doesn’t guarantee a win,” Black Suit snapped.


The blond gasped loudly enough for the defense junior associates ten feet away from the prosecution group to take notice and stare. Blondie pursed her lips and continued with a soft voice which belied her glare, “You don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. He’s sleeping with his secretary not me. I don’t need that kind of leverage. You’re the one who keeps taking him to your parents country club. Golf whore.”


Black Suit leaned in. Grey Suit wedged himself between the competing associates. “Look, we can take this outside later. Don’t let them see anything. Any perceived weakness could kill us on appeal.” He shifted his collar and the other two took a breath. “Now, what do we know about the defense?”


Across the hallway, the defense junior associates huddled together. They were also worried but much less insecure. They had the utmost trust in their boss and knew she one more than anyone could ask. “Do you think that they will come out soon?” Bettina asked. “I can’t take this waiting crap.”


“Just don’t put yourself in the position of being the one whose fate depends on waiting,” her friend and the company investigator said. Wyatt Andrews was ex-military and famous for his unruffled demeanor. With this case, however, even he looked out of sorts. “It’ll come out in the end just the way it was supposed to.”


“But this man is innocent. I mean, sometimes we have to fudge a little to get our clients the best deal, but this man truly is innocent. The patient died on the operating table because he did not fully disclose pre-existing medical conditions. The family just wants the insurance payout, this isn’t about justice” Alesia stated flatly, her innocent looking Asian Beauty Queen face belying both her intelligence and her strong will. She stared at the prosecution’s junior associates, seeing that the blond and the jock in the black suit didn’t seem to get along. She would remember that for future reference. She looked with undisguised interest at the newest person walking up to the prosecution gaggle, another female but in a chocolate suit with a fushia shirt and bright jewelry. Adrian Kraden, a woman on a mission with a plan to become the next prosecuting attorney for the city of New York within ten years. She was the lead prosecuting attorney for this case and fully expected that it would make her career.


Adrian walked up confidently to the rest of the associates whose careers she had already planned to ruin. “What do we know?” she asked, ignoring the looks of disgust from all of them, expecting to be answered.


“We don’t know yet. It’s too close to make a good guess,” Blondie told her, hating the other woman with her every word.


“Nothing less than I would expect,” Adrian’s clipped speech continued. “Why did the defense make it personal?”


“Oh, something the great and informed Adrian doesn’t know,” Black Suit sneered. His father was  the current prosecuting attorney’s doctor and was a long time friend of the family. He enjoyed poking fun at the power poser he worked with.  “How amusing.”


Grey Suit rolled his eyes. He was a diplomat by training, and took no sides in this ongoing unspoken battle of wills.  “The defense was personal because Meredith O’Hara is the lead defense attorney. Her husband killed himself when she was nineteen years old after he was brought up on trumped up charges of murder. Problem was, even though he was framed, before the police found the real killer, he had convinced himself he would never be vindicated. He killed himself over it rather than waiting for the verdict to acquit him. Typical Irish.”


Adrian glared at the young man who had the look of a hungry wolf underneath that polished charm; she could use Grey Suit but only if it could be tamed to her needs. Black Suit and the blond would have to go.  “There is no such thing as a ‘typical’ Celt of any kind. You would do well to learn that.” She looked at her phone and checked the time, ignoring the rolling eyes her comment elicited. “They have been in there for nearly seventeen hours. Surely that is more than enough time.” Tapping her finger on her phone interface quickly she shook her head at the response text. “My contact is gone; security guards were changed three hours ago. He didn’t know anything before he left.” Irritated she began pacing the front of the courtroom, not caring that her impatience was strategically noted by her junior associates who collectively hated her guts.


The entire hallway came to attention at the sound of a door opening. Meredith O’Hara, the tall red-headed defense attorney with a reputation for being a cutthroat bulldog, walked unconcernedly into the mass of chaos she fully took responsibility for helping to create. She glanced at the courtoom doors, and at the prosecuting attorney. With effortless class, Meredith walked deliberately over to her opponent, enjoying the slight widening of eyes around her. Drama was her friend and she knew the person who started it usually had the better chance of controlling it, human nature  being what it was. Meredith stopped at Adrian’s side and grinned with only a touch of the tigress-waiting-for-her-next-meal edging her friendly smile. “Waiting is hell, huh?” she commiserated, as if she didn’t have a man going to the death penalty at stake. “No word I take it.”


Adrian looked at the woman who managed to make a simple gold link chain, a gold jeweled barrette and a black suit with simple white silk shirt look positively elegant. She hated that natural elegance and soft Irish accent she could never hope to pull off. Instead she reached for hostility to cover her irritation. “No. You would have heard if they had.”


"I see.” Meredith looked at her enemy with kindness, well aware that taking the high ground only killed the power hungry Adrian with kindness. “Well we will find out soon enough. I’m sure the jurors have better things to do with their time than stay in one tiny room for two days in a row. You have to snog with your spouse some time,” she laughed, ignoring the other woman’s piercing hatred. She turned away from the other lead attorney and glided to her own staff. “Bettina, did the numbers come back from the Sullivan case?” Bettina shook her head. That was Meredith, barely done with one case and getting strategically ready to win another. The woman never stopped. “Well no worries, it should just be a quick divorce, money talks and his mistress is pregnant.” She collected her staff at a safer distance away from the prosecution and lowered her voice. “What do we know?”


Wyatt smiled charmingly, but lowered his voice as well. As far as an onlooker could tell, he was talking about sports and the weather. “We don’t know. Your own bias about your late husband has really gotten into the tabloids. It could get ugly.”


Miranda tamped down old familiar mixed feelings of rage and impatience and fixed her face to its familiar pleasant demeanor which could deliver a sucker punch or a benevolent word; the trick was to keep everyone else guessing. “We should know by today. It’s three days from Christmas and everyone has to get their Christmas shopping done. Half the jury have grandchildren, recession aside, they need gifts.”


Alesia looked at her antique gold watch. “Doesn’t your daughter get out of school soon?”


Meredith sighed. “Yes. There is no way that I can get there and back in time before the end of the day. Can you call her, have her meet me here? She can take the subway again. I know she hates it but she’ll have to get over it.”


Alesia nodded, personally feeling sorry for the girl. Mother and daughter were both extremely good at their respective fields, Meredith at law, Jade at anything related to academia. Both had become so dedicated, however, that they had been drifting slowly but steadily apart. It was Alesia who had held Jade when she cried the first time she had to take a pregnancy test after the prom. It was Bettina who had gotten her ready for the prom in the first place while Meredith got ready for an enormous trial involving a Senator’s substance abuse and prostitution charges. Wyatt had often walked Jade home from school when she was being bullied as a freshman, and when it continued, he took her to the shooting range with him and taught her to shoot an entire range of handguns. Although she would never shoot anyone except in self defense, the knowledge that she could protect herself gave her enough confidence to face her bullies down until eventually they left her alone. Wyatt often joked she was the only child of a Democrat in New York who could actually shoot straight.


Jade answered Alesia’s text with an expected answer. “Does she even care???” read Jade’s text. Alesia tightened her lips and replied gently “Of course she does, but if you could meet her out front, that would help a lot. Thx.” Alesia didn’t hear back for a minute; then a gruging “K” came back. Alesia looked at Meredith. The woman’s impatience was finally showing itself after six weeks of living in a courtroom. Meredith had started to pace back in forth in time to an internal metronome, her rhythmic clicking heels making the auditorally sensitive Adrian implode. Meredith O’Hara might not have many nervous habits, but when she chose to allow herself to express her emotions, she usually chose to do so in a calculated way that made her opponents go a little bit crazy.


Alesia caught her bosses’ attention.  “Merry, she’ll meet you out front at 5. Sound ok?”


“Yes,” Meredith said, crossing one more thing off her list. “Perfect thank you.” She looked at her watch, a simple but elegant number from Walmart. The woman could afford anything at Barney’s fifteen times over, but she never forgot her most humble upbringings. How much longer, she fretted silently. How much longer.


Two hours later, her client had been read his verdict: Not Guilty.


Meredith shook hands cordially with the prosecution and watched with pride as Dr. Meyers, wrongfully accused of the death of a thirty year old man who had lied about twelve years of moderate but steady cocaine use before undergoing cardiovascular surgery, had the cuffs taken off of him for the last time. Together Meredith and Dr. Meyers walked down the court aisle, quietly working through their publicity plan.  “Now, the press is going to be all over you, more so that you have been vindicated. Don’t be shy, use them to get a jump start to repairing your reputation. It’ll take three weeks at most and your practice will be more full than it ever was. It’s strange, but even negative publicity, as long as you didn’t kill anyone, can boost your client load. Ok are you ready for that? Just keep your comments kind and simple, mention two great reasons for you to be New York’s next hottest doctor, and walk on. We will put you in a car and you will be on your way. Ok?”


Dr. Meyers nodded his silvering head, somewhat shaken over the turn of events in his life within the last fifteen weeks. “Heck of a way to get your life back in business. Yes that’s fine. I just want to spend time with my family and not worry about being in prison.” It remained unspoken that Dr. Meyers would forever remember the young man who died under his scalpel, and would be harder on himself than the justice system ever could have been.


Meredith swiped a last minute touch of gloss and smoothed her already impeccable auburn bob just before the doors leading out of the courthouse.  “Alright, here we go,” and the doors opened  to the swirling chaotic mob of press, bloggers and YouTube armature reporters barely hiding both happy bystanders and very angry protestors who had already gotten the news via Twitter.


“Dr. Meyers, how do you feel about your verdict?”


“O’Hara, do you think the prosecution did a fair job on their case or did you simply overwhelm them with the passions of your own past?”


“What do you think will happen now? Will this case set future precedents?”


Despite the coaching Meredith had given him, Dr. Meyers started blankly at forty microphones shoved in his face and found himself unable to proceed as planned. Meredith smoothly stepped in front of him and took over for her client.


“Hello ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for your time. I know it was very difficult for all of you to be here in the snow and cold waiting for a statement about real justice being done. Although Dr. Meyers feels horrible as any doctor could feel that a young man died on his operating table, it is also fair to note that not only did everyone involved understand the risks involved, but Dr. Meyers, an expert in his field, did all that was humanly possible to save this man both before and during surgery. This is a tragedy all around, but it would have been an egregious use of justice to punish a man who did nothing unethical or wrong. He will continue to see patients who continue to have the utmost confidence in his work. That will be all, thank you.”


Meredith pushed through the mob of people clapping their hands at this speech, with other people booing Dr. Meyers and Meredith with strong insults. “Baby killer! Never grew out of Vietnam!” “Never trust a Jew doctor to operate on a white citizen!”


Dr. Meyers’s face turned white. Meredith noticed and immediately waved for a cab. “Don’t worry about them, Dr. Meyers, they just want to draw blood. Don’t react, have a glass of wine when you get home, I’ll call you in the morning alright?” Meredith ordered, shoving the man bodily into the cab, eyeing several of the protestors who looked capable of violence. She shut the cab door, slapped the top and silently approved of its speedy takeoff.


Wyatt took his hand out of his suit jacket quietly, releasing the hold on his .45 Colt. He stood directly behind his boss, not relishing the temper of the crowd growing more unpredictable as they stood there. Wyatt had worked enough angry mobs in the military to know it was a powder keg about to go off when he saw one. He had already called for the police and they were coming fast, both on horses and in cars. Mobs were an insane phenomenon, he thought to himself. One moment everyone was following normal social rules, then usually because of one instigator, the whole works just blew up right in your face with deadly results.


Meredith’s shoulders dropped with relief when she saw Wyatt behind her. Although he was mainly their chief investigator, it was comforting to know he was also a part time bodyguard capable of keeping them safe in a pinch as well. Meredith nodded in thanks and Wyatt nodded back at her. She gestured at the rest of their team and he immediately waved down another cab while her own car was being brought up from out of parking by a rookie cop. He pulled the burgundy BMW expertly in the No Park zone right in front of the courthouse. Marilyn thanked him with one of her rare sweet smiles and looked around, irritated that her daughter wasn’t already by her side.


“Wyatt, ask Alesia if she’s gotten any more texts from Jade,” she yelled as the man began getting into the cab ahead of her car. Wyatt paused and poked his head in the cab briefly, then popped back out and shook his head. Then Wyatt suddenly pointed directly behind her. Her daughter had appeared behind her, leaning on the trunk, arms crossed, hip out, looking entirely put out. Meredith sighed and turned to wave at the rest of her team, barely noticing as a cab behind them nearly rear-ended her own car in its hurry to get into traffic.


Meredith slipped gracefully into the car and her daughter flounced into the passenger side. “Did I really have to meet you here? I hate coming to court.”


Meredith looked at her sideview mirrors and then rear mirror. “I know, I’m sorry, court ran long.”


“Court always runs long. I hate it.”


“How was school?”


“Claire got pregnant. Sarah’s mom is in the hospital after she tried to kill herself. Again. Stacey and Heather can’t quit vomiting and Tiffany never eats.”


Meredith stopped spotting traffic long enough to look fully at her daughter. “Really? Don’t you have any other friends?”


“They’re cool mom,” Jade shrugged, already knowing this conversation by heart.


“But…”


“I know they smoke, drink, their boyfriends do drugs and they have sex. I know you told me. Really I know.”


“And do you do any or all of the above as well?”


“I don’t have a boyfriend if that’s what you wanted to know.”


“It wasn’t but thank you for telling me. What about the rest?”


“I haven’t done anything you didn’t do at your age.”


Meredith paled. “That’s not really comforting.” She began looking at her mirrors again, focusing on two more lanes of cars than the road would safely accommodate. “Ok, this traffic is horrific today.”


“It’s Friday at five o’clock, Mom. Everyone is getting out of town for the weekend. Monday is a holiday.”


“We’re having this conversation later, babe.”


“Yeah.” Jade smirked at her mother then looked over and saw a man coming towards them, approaching at her mother’s blind spot. “Mom look out!”


A shot fired and hit one of the front tires. Meredith’s blood ran cold and time around her began to pass very slowly. Later, they told her the entire episode had taken less than fifteen seconds. But in the moment she could quietly see herself pull her daughter, who blessedly had stalled putting on her seatbelt as usual, down and into the deep hollow where her daughter’s feet had just been.  She could hear the next bullet shatter the window by her ear and felt a hand shove her violently forward into the passenger seat window which also shattered directly in front of her face. She felt a dulling in her face, her ears rang and then suddenly it was all over.


She remembered Jade screaming “Mommy!” and felt a sticky substance ooze down her arm and her face. She touched her daughter’s face and saw that the first bullet had gone through the driver’s side window and through the fatty part of Jade’s upper arm. Meredith started screaming hoarsely for medical help. “My daughte’rs been shot, I need help now!”


“It’s alright ma’am, I need you to get down,” said a young voice near her ear. It was the rookie cop who had driven her car out of the parking garage for her.


“No!” she screamed hoarsely, feeling like she was in a dream far from reality. “My daughter has been shot! You must get her help!”


“Ma’am!”


She turned dazedly to look at the earnest blue eyes in a young face starting at her intently.


“Ma’am stay down. You’ve been shot too. Now try and remain calm.”


That’s when time and space united again and she experienced events in real time. The pain in her shoulder wasn’t from a hand knocking her down. 


A bullet had lodged in her shoulder and thrown her forward from the impact rendering her arm useless. The sticky stuff oozing down her face was blood from a deep gash on her forehead. Meredith touched her face, and then looked in horror at her daughter, huddled in the foot space of the passenger seat, crying and praying. One last shot sounded directly behind them. Meredith closed her eyes. They were going to die.