The solution

A strident telephone ring broke the silence. My chair creaked as I leaned forward. I pushed through piles of folders on my desk and jabbed the intercom button.

“Liz, could you please answer the phone? I’m working on the Yulania Holding case.”

“Good morning, Ms. Delchario. You’re through to our fully qualified paralegal. Feel free to refer to the receptionist for mundane clerical tasks instead of wasting the time of experienced and highly trained professionals.”

“My sincere apologies. Would you be so kind as to ask the receptionist to answer the phone?”

“I would be delighted to. Unfortunately, my employer is a parsimonious old curmudgeon who’s too cheap to hire a receptionist.”

“This is more of a boutique practice than a full-fledged legal firm. Our modest budget does not extend to paying a bimbo to file her nails waiting for the handful of phone calls we get a month, not when we have a perfectly good bimbo doing nothing already.”

“Boutique? I believe the correct term is broke ass.”

“I’m knee deep in a dozen depositions, could you please just answer the damn phone?”

The jangling noise cut off as Liz lifted the handset. I turned my attention to the class action suit. In a city infested by loathsome landlords, this landlord was a pinnacle of loathesomeness. My problem wasn’t proving my case. It was managing the overwhelming volume of evidence.

Liz knocked on the office window. Her eyebrows were knitted with a deep vertical wrinkle the way they did when she was thinking hard or furious. “It’s Mary. Take line one and put it on speakerphone. I’ll get my steno pad.”

I punched buttons on the phone as Liz rolled her chair into my office.

“Mary? Rachel here, what’s wrong?”

“Some drunk bankers tried to get into the bar to cause trouble. Margaret refused them entry. Their ringleader stabbed her. There was a brawl.” My insides clenched. Mary owned ‘Mary’s Place’, one of a handful of lesbian bars in town. It was a refuge for women who had precious little respite in public places. Tragically, it was the kind of place that lunatics found more and more to be appealing targets.

“Liz is on the call so she can take notes. That’s Margaret Perry, the contractor responsible for site security?”

“Yes.” Liz’s shorthand looked like scribbles, but they were more accurate than a tape recording. I fought a sick sense of dread. My work made me far too aware of the unforgiving and brutal side of the city. I fought to keep my voice steady.

“How is she?”

“She’s in hospital, but she’s getting out today. She’ll need some time to recover.”

Relief washed over me. “That’s good to hear. Were there any other injuries?”

“Yes, four others were hospitalized.”

“Ok. What about the assailants?”

“That was them. Oh, and one ran away.”

“Hold on. Let me clarify, five men attacked Margaret, one ran away and the other four were taken to the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“How many of your customers were injured?”

“Only Margaret got hurt, on our side.”

“The men were injured resisting arrest?” That would help in any subsequent civil suit. If they assaulted any police officers, that was even better. For the lawsuit.

“No, before.”

I was normally glad of Mary’s terse conversational style. Her bar got loud at night, so Mary was not one to use a dozen words when none would do. Instead, she expressed herself with beauty and grace using nuanced expressions and gestures. This was no help whatsoever over the phone.

“Mary, what happened to the men?”

“Becky.”

Liz interjected before I had an opportunity to voice my irritation. “Mary, this is Liz. For our records, who is Becky?”

“She’s new in town, a college student from the Midwest here for the summer. She’s kind of working for me.”

“Kind of?” I said. “You must let me know if you hire someone. There are forms to fill out.”

“Could you give me her contact details?” Liz asked.

“I don’t have anything. All I saw was a fake ID. Well, it wasn’t fake, but it wasn’t legitimate.”

“A phone number?”

“She doesn’t have a phone.” Liz and I looked at each other. A college student without a phone? I assume, these days, that everyone is fastened to a cell phone at birth, seemingly wired into their brain.

“What’s her address?”

“No idea. She’s apartment sitting near the bar.”

“Surname?”

“I don’t remember. Something plain. Hold on.” There was rustling and a muted conversation. “She just came in. I’ll send her to you.”

“Mary, Rachel here, are you saying this Becky person put four men in the hospital?”

“No. She had help.”

It was like cross examining a hostile witness, not helping an old friend. “Exactly how many people were involved in the incident?”

“A regular went out with her. They knocked down two guys each. It’s something to see. You should watch the videos.”

“You have security camera footage?”

“Yes, I have that, too. I’ll get someone to send you the links.”

“What do you mean, links? You didn’t put the security camera footage online, did you?”

“No, the ringleader live streamed the whole thing. He had some crazy incel agenda, plus the girls posted lots of stuff.”

“Incel?”

“Involuntarily celibate.” Liz added. “It’s an online thing.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“The police asked for the tapes. I gave them copies.”

“That’s helpful,” I said. On principle, I don’t like handing any evidence to the police before I have a chance to preserve it. In my experience, in these kinds of cases evidence had a way of going missing or getting damaged. “You cooperated with them in good faith?”

“Yes. One of the officers is on our side. She knows Becky.”

“How? Didn’t you say she’s new in town?”

“Um… Becky got arrested last week.”

“I need to meet this Becky sooner rather than later,” I said. “What was she arrested for?”

“She was groped on the subway.”

“They arrested her for getting groped?” Liz asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“She pinned the guy down and held him for the police. When the cops came, he said she attacked him, so they arrested her, too. They released her after they saw the video evidence. I can send you the links.”

“That’s online, too?” I didn’t know if that helped or hindered. You couldn’t break wind these days without ten people pulling out a cell phone to memorialize the occasion.

“Yes. The girls said it went viral.”

“Mary, Liz again. The men were bankers? Do you have any of their details? Descriptions? Names?”

“Yes, I’ll ask one of the girls to email you their driver’s licenses and business cards.”

“Wait up,” I said. None of this made sense. “They’re bankers, but they gave you their driver’s licenses and business cards?”

“Becky got them. The girls took pictures of them and shared them online. All, except for the ringleader’s. He ran away, but Becky got his name from the other guys.”

“They volunteered their colleague's name?” That did not ring true for any bankers I know.

“Becky… persuaded them. They weren’t happy about him bailing out on them, anyways. I have to go. It’s hectic here. Everyone’s trying to help at the same time.”

“Give Becky the security tapes and send her over immediately, would you please?”

“Will do.”

“Thank you, Mary. Stay safe.” The line went dead. I wasn’t going to make any progress on the class action case today, that was certain. I tapped my pencil on the desk as I thought.

“Liz, you’re aware of the firm’s strict social media policy on the internet only being used to access legal libraries and resources?”

“If I recall, your words were ‘for Christ’s sake, how many times must I tell you to stay off that ridiculous face chirp space internet thing and get some real work done?’”

“That’s it. Today, that policy is out the window. Open it up. All of it. I have to see these videos.”

***

We watched the videos and made notes from the comments and pictures. Afterwards, we watched the videos again for fun. A courier dropped off some documents, and then the phone rang. Two calls in one day, I thought. This place is hopping. Liz jumped on it before it had a chance to ring twice. She grimaced as she listened.

“She’s on another call.”

What was it now?

“Yes, of course. I’ll get her right away.” She put the caller on hold. “That’s her royal highness Louise Francisco for you. She is not a happy camper.”

“I need many things today, but a whiny spoiled prima donna is not one of them.”

“Be nice to her. We bill her a lot and she pays on time.”

“I’m always nice.” I picked up the phone and put on my most soothing professional voice. “Good morning, Louise. I just got off the phone with Mary.”

“This is a disaster. Have you seen the socials?”

“We’re assessing them now.”

“If any of this gets connected to me, it will be the end of my career." When was the last time she was in Mary's, I thought. "Armageddon. How did it blow up so fast?”

“We’re on it. No one was badly hurt.”

“The guy she kicked might not agree. It’ll take more than an ice pack to put that right. Did you know that clip alone has ten thousand views on TikTok? Already?”

“I saw it.” Repeatedly. Justice is rarely served as swiftly or as satisfactorily.

“How is Margaret?”

“She’s ok. She’s getting out today but won’t be working for a while.”

“What are you going to do about tonight?”

Liz spun around in her chair. She watched me with her arms crossed like a schoolteacher keeping an eye on a naughty student. I bit back my response along the lines of glitzy awards ceremonies not being my first priority. Margaret’s role in that circus was to look great wearing a uniform and sunglasses, not to provide security. The money was fantastic, all the same. “We’re working on that, too.”

“My public image is my most valuable asset, as you well know. This incident mustn’t jeopardize it. You better send someone reliable to replace her.”

“Liz is vetting candidates as we speak.” Liz wasn’t. She was rolling her eyes. We would never get a replacement in time.

“I’m depending on you. I don’t need to explain the consequences if you let me down.”

A click ended the conversation before I could reply.

“Get her back on the line,” I growled.

“Stop,” Liz said. “You literally cannot afford to lose her as a client. Can you imagine the reputational damage if she turns her resources against us? You know how petty and vindictive she is, right?”

I sighed. I knew, but that didn’t make it sit right.

***

A client came in to go over an upcoming trial, and not long after, a young woman wearing a floor length, long sleeved old-fashioned gingham dress with lots of pockets stopped by.

“May I help you?” Liz asked. The woman carried a paper bag. I wondered if she was selling girl scout cookies. Her dark hair was tied back and her face was scrubbed and plain. Perhaps not plain, but blank, the way some models are blank before they’re made up.

“Hello. I’m Becky.” She held out her hand. That was Becky? She seemed taller in the videos. Her dress was loose fitting and covered her from the neck to her feet, leaving only her hands exposed, so it was difficult to get any sense of her shape. Maybe on the stocky side? “I’m a lesbian, in New York for the summer determined to make up for a lifetime in the closet. Mary asked me to drop by.”

“Hello, I’m Liz.” Liz shook her hand. “I’m a registered paralegal trapped in this dung heap of an office for my sins.”

Becky laughed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Liz. Mary said I should give you this.” She handed her the bag. “You’re a registered paralegal? That sounds interesting. What made you decide to get qualified?” They chatted for a few minutes before Liz escorted her to Rachel’s office.

“Rachel, this is Rebecca Larson.”

“Ms. Delchario, Mary said you would like to speak with me.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Becky. I’m a lesbian, in New York for the summer determined to make up for a lifetime in the closet.” She had a pleasant, deferential demeanor. I couldn’t imagine her knocking over a broom, never mind that burly tree trunk of a man.

I shook her hand and gestured to a chair. “You’re direct.” Up close, she looked even younger than she did on the computer screen.

“I like to make it clear from the start. It saves any awkwardness later.”

I could see why Mary liked her. What a breath of fresh air. “Could I see your ID please? I have to keep a record of people I deal with. Money laundering regulations are quite strict nowadays.” I pulled some papers out of my desk drawer.

“Of course. My Minnesota state identification card.” She gave me a card from one of her pockets. “Store bought dresses never have enough pockets, don’t you think?”

I examined the ID closely. “You’re eighteen?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Mary shouldn’t have allowed you on the premises. How many times have you used the fake ID?” I’ve dealt with criminals and liars all my professional career, and worse, lawyers, but I’ve never seen such a smooth transition from open to guarded.

“They’re both real.”

I pushed my glasses down and stared her down.

“Four times. Once to get a library card. Once to open a bank account. Once to get a job. Once to get into Mary’s Place.”

“You risked a felony charge for a library card?”

“I was fifteen. You can’t check out college textbooks until you’re eighteen. I figured out a way to order them through my local library, but I had to show ID. I didn’t want to wait.”

“You were reading college textbooks at fifteen?”

“I couldn’t afford to have close friends, and in our church, we don’t… I didn’t… watch TV or talk on the phone. You’d be surprised how much time that leaves for academics and sports.”

“Fair enough. Please tell me about last night.”

“You saw the videos.”

“I want to hear your version.”

“I was in Mary’s Place. She never accepted my ID. She doesn’t serve me alcohol, and she charges me for a sandwich every time I come in.”

“Mary serves food?”

“No, but it’s my understanding that puts her in compliance with the laws regarding the age of people allowed into her establishment.”

That wasn't wrong. “You’re working there?”

“Not formally. When I help Mary, she lets me keep my tips. I’m taking a bartender course.”

“Let’s get that sorted out. I’ll back date the paperwork. That will protect Mary and you, plus you won’t have to pay for sandwiches.”

Becky shrugged.

“You were at Mary’s, go on.”

“It was a busy night. I noticed that Margaret wasn’t at the door. She always lets us know if she takes a break or uses the facilities. Always.”

I wrote that down. “Keep going.”

“I checked with Mary. She indicated something was wrong.”

“How?”

“You know Mary. She’s not the most verbose woman. She nodded to the empty chair at the door and raised an eyebrow, but it was clear.”

“I get it. What next?”

“I asked Sam to come with me.”

I flicked through my notes. “Samantha DeLarverie?”

“I guess.”

“Heavyset woman in her early thirties? Short dark hair?”

“Yes. She’s a boxer.”

“She told you that?”

“I knew from the way she plants her feet.”

“I gather you have martial arts training.”

“I can look after myself. I grew up in a farming town. My father works at a metal fabrication plant.”

“Hmm. You went outside with Sam?”

“After I asked Dani to lock all the doors and to call the police and an ambulance, yes.”

“Danielle Brenneman? Slender, blond? Troubled?”

“She’s Sam’s… she’s friends with Sam.”

“Why did you ask her to call an ambulance before you went outside? You couldn’t have known one was needed.”

“I knew.” I had an odd sense that I was talking to a mature and calculating person inside the shell of a young woman. I wondered what she would look like if she wasn’t all buttoned down and hidden under that dress.

She leaned back in her chair and stretched. I stopped my next thought dead in its tracks. It was highly inappropriate and unprofessional, and, well, silly.

“When you got outside?”

“Have you ever seen a pack of wolves around a wounded deer?”

I shook my head. “I’m New York city born and bred.”

“Five men had Margaret surrounded. One of them had a cellular telephone and a knife. He ranted to his phone while the others maneuvered around her. She kept them at bay, but she was bleeding from her side. The largest man lifted a rock and raised it to strike Margaret from behind, overhand, in what I feared was a killing blow. I disabled him and another guy and then assessed Margaret’s injury.”

“You knocked down a man twice your size, gave him a talking to, and then choked him unconscious.”

“I could have killed him.”

“Yes, you risked both his life and yours. That was foolish. You should have waited for the police.”

“You misunderstand. I mean I considered the option of killing him and chose not to. I could have broken his neck as easily as knocking him over.” It was unsettling for a young woman in a homemade dress, looking like she just rolled in off the prairie, to say that with such calm resolve. “As you’re aware, under New York Penal Law article 35.15, a person is justified in using physical force against another when that person is under the reasonable belief that the physical force is necessary to defend the person or another person from what the person reasonably believes to be the illegal imminent use of force or the illegal use of force.”

“If you know that, you should know it doesn’t apply to deadly physical force.”

“Unless a person reasonably believes that deadly physical force is being used or is about to be used on herself or a third person. For example, when a big ugly drunk guy is going to hit a wounded woman in the head with a rock.”

“Let’s park that for now. What about the other men?”

“Like I said, one guy tried to sneak up on me from behind. I incapacitated him.”

“Incapacitated.”

“In Minnesota, we call it a mule kick.”

“You mule kicked him square in the crotch.” It took an effort to keep the grin off my face. That ‘O’ on his face stills makes me chuckle.

“He settled down after that. Took some time to himself. Sam knocked out her two. Their leader dropped his phone and took off like a cat with firecrackers tied to his tail. I didn’t chase him down. I had to look after Margaret. She’d lost a lot of blood.”

“You have medical training on top of your legal and martial arts expertise?”

“I grew up working on farms. I’ve sewn up plenty of worse cuts.”

“Lanesboro Minnesota doesn’t have a doctor?”

“Nobody goes to that doctor unless they have to.” I wondered if her revulsion was the first true emotion she revealed. “The police showed up. I waited with Margaret until the ambulance came, to make sure she got treated first.”

“How did you get their driver’s licenses and business cards?” There was an almost imperceptible pause again, as if a calculation ran in her head.

“While they were resting, I took them so my friends could share them with everyone using their phones. I didn’t want them to enjoy the privilege of being anonymous.”

“Resting?”

“Lying down waiting for the paramedics?”

“But you don’t have a phone yourself. What’s with this dress and all that? Are you Amish?”

“We’re not Amish,” she snapped. “We’re Pentecostal. It’s completely different.” She smoothed her dress. “May I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“What is it with you people in New York? I saved my friend’s life, why am I being interrogated? It was the same with the police when I was sexually assaulted on the subway. They treated me like I was the criminal. That’s the opposite of how it should be.”

“I have to know as much as I can to be prepared for any eventuality. If there are any grey areas or inconsistencies, you and I both are at risk when I’m in court or talking to the police and get surprised by something I should have known about.”

“Why would you be in court?” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not representing any of those men, are you?”

“Did you even look at their business cards before you had them put them online for the whole world to see?”

“Yes. They work for WFP Asset Management on Wall Street. It’s a merchant bank.”

“It’s a men’s club full of old money. They’re in tight with the city’s political and legal establishment. You put their business cards all over social media and their employees in hospital and in jail. Are you naïve enough to believe there wouldn’t be comeback for that?”

“Those men stabbed Margaret and were going to kill her. We stopped them. What do you think was going to happen when they got inside the bar?”

“If charges are pressed, the bank will fight this case any way they can. They’ll pull every dirty trick in the book. They will unleash a legal shit storm of epic proportions.”

“If? Are you kidding? If?”

“I have my clients’ best interests to consider. They’ll go after Mary’s liquor license, her permits, her suppliers. They’ll charge you and Sam with assault and theft.”

“Theft?”

“We all saw you taking their wallets.”

“I gave them back.”

“They’ll pick through the personal lives of everyone involved in great detail, including yours. You came out? Back in Minnesota?”

“Only to my parents. And the pastor. My parents called the pastor.”

“How did that go?”

“My mother wanted an exorcism.” I wondered what fresh hell this girl had been through. “You’re saying if we drop the charges, take the videos down, apologize, maybe make some restitution, they won’t ruin our lives?”

“It’s the safest course of action. You’re only here for the summer. We live here.”

“Is that what you think we should do? Really, honestly, from your heart?”

I took my glasses off, took a cloth from a drawer, and polished the lenses. It wasn’t. How I wished I could tell the Louise Franciscos where to go, bring the entitled man children to justice, spit in the eyes of the merchant bankers, and make the city safe for the Beckys and the Marys and the Sams and the Danis. The world didn’t work that way, no matter how hard I tried. It broke my heart.

“It’s for the best.”

“We’re in agreement?” She looked deep into my eyes. I nodded.

“Good. Fuck them all.”

“What?”

Becky’s smile was genuine this time. “We’re going to fight these bastards every inch of the way. We’re on the side of the righteous. Liz and I will help you, plus everyone at Mary’s Place is on the team. That’s what you want, deep down, isn’t it?”

Once I had closed my mouth, I pressed the intercom button. “Liz, could you please get in here? We need you.”

Liz got her pad. Becky propped her elbows on my desk. “I’ve never seen you at Mary’s. You should pay a visit.”

“I’m very busy,” I said, putting my glasses back on, pulling my suit jacket closed and checking the top button of my blouse. “I don’t get out much.”

Liz came in with her chair. “What’s up?”

“We’re going to fight WFP Asset Management and put those assholes in prison,” Becky said.

She looked to me, and then to Becky, and then back to me. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack. Becky will manage the team at Mary’s Place. They’ll cover the press and social media. I’ll cover the political side. I have some contacts in the city administration. We need your expertise on the criminal charges, plus the civil rights and hate crimes angles.”

“This could break us. We don’t even have cover for Margaret tonight.”

“Becky,” I asked. “You said you were in the closet all your life. Did anyone know you were a lesbian, back home, before you came out?”

“No. My mother knew there was something wrong with me, but she thought it was a demon possessing my soul. She wanted to cast it out.” She was so matter of fact about it, neither Liz or I knew how to react.

“So, you’re discrete. You could sign a non-disclosure agreement and abide by it?”

“Wait, you cannot be serious,” Liz said.

“Are you asking if I can keep a secret?” Becky laughed a pretty laugh. “What do you think?”

“And you have martial arts training?”

“Mostly jujitsu and judo.”

“I can’t believe you are even considering this." That furrow between Liz's eyebrows was back. "Have you lost your mind?”

“What other choice do we have?”

“How is this being discreet? This,” Liz said, pointing to Becky, “how is this not a direct connection? Remember when she said she works at Mary's?”

“Once she’s in the uniform and made up and wearing those ridiculous sunglasses, no one will take any notice of her. Becky, have you ever heard of Louise Francisco?”

“Does she hang out at Mary’s Place?”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Liz demanded.

Becky took Liz’s hand. It was like watching a child pet a growling dog. “I’m sorry. Up to a few weeks ago, my entire existence revolved around church, school, and my Lacrosse team. I’ve never listened to the radio or gone to the movies. We didn’t have a television set or a computer or a telephone. I’m not being disrespectful. I honestly have no idea who Louise Francisco is.”

“Everyone knows Louise Francisco. She’s a fashion icon, a singer songwriter, and an actor. Our livelihood relies on her trusting our discretion. You, of all people, should understand how important it is to her to keep her personal life private.”

“Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What does that have to do with me?”

“We can look for someone else if you want, Liz, but what other options do we have?” Plus, I want to stick it to them all, including Louise Francisco, no matter how much we billed her.

Liz aqueezed Becky’s hand. “If you screw this up for us, I swear.”

“I’m at a loss," Becky said. "What am I supposed to do?”

I wrote on a notepad and gave the slip to Becky. “Get a taxi to this address. I’ll let them know you’re on your way. They’ll give you a uniform and get you made up.”

“Ah. And the ridiculous sunglasses?”

“They’re part of the uniform. Elsie, the chauffeur, will explain what to do. She’ll pick you up and drive everyone to the awards ceremony. Sit in the front seat. Listen to her and do what she says. At the ceremony, stay in the background but keep Ms. Francisco safe. Don’t let anyone get too close to her. Open doors for her and watch out for overeager fans and pushy photographers.”

“You know this is insane,” Liz said.

Becky tried to reassure her. "I took our Lacrosse team to the state championship. I know how to block for an advancing player. I can do this. Let’s get started.” They all stood up. In the tiny office, I couldn’t shy away before Becky grappled me in a tight hug. She clung to me longer than necessary. She was solid. In a nice way.

Liz cleared her throat.

Becky laughed and released me. “Sorry, Liz. She doesn’t appreciate how hot she is with that suit and the glasses and the hair.”

“Well, I do.”

I thought it wise to keep my mouth shut at that juncture.

“Could you draw me up an invoice for today’s consultation please?” Becky asked Liz.

“That’s the only sensible thing I’ve heard anyone say all day.”

While they dealt with the paperwork, I made a reservation at Crown Shy, Liz’s favorite restaurant. I didn’t have the energy, there was no way Liz would cook tonight, and it would have to be a nice place to make up for the day. Nice meaning expensive.

I heard the credit card machine printing a receipt. With a jolt, I realized the bank account the invoice was paid from was probably opened using the fake ID in my safe. The money laundering legislation was explicit. That transaction put me in a legal bind.

Becky gave me a knowing little wave when she left. I chuckled. I’d been outwitted by an eighteen-year-old. I lifted the next stack of Yuliana Holding deposition files onto my desk. It was going to be a long night, but I felt more energized than I had in years.

Prompt: You're a female lawyer and you're dealing with .... in order to ...