The System

From the vault (2001, I think), filed under "Things I Will Undoubtedly Enjoy Far More Than Anyone Else." If I ever tried to write a Grisham-style legal thriller, this is probably what it would look like. 

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The System

“I’m sorry,” he told me, “but I don’t think you have a case.”

            He was probably right, this lawyer. I nodded and leaned back in the comfortable chair. I tapped a finger on my knee. I leaned forward in the chair. “Are you sure?” I asked.

            “Yes. Very.”

            This guy meant business. He was definitely the kind you want to have on your team. “Hmm,” I said. “What would I need to do—what would it take—for me to get this case into really solid shape?”

            The lawyer looked me in the eye for a long time, which I liked, because it showed he was a straight shooter. He said, “I really don’t think there’s anything you can do. Honestly.”

            “Just a ballpark estimate.…” I leaned back in my comfortable chair. The lawyer leaned forward in his comfortable chair.

            “I don’t know how else to say it,” he said. “You don’t have a case—in the most literal way possible. I can’t, and won’t, represent you.”

            I nodded. I tapped my lip thoughtfully. I considered the manila evidence folder I had brought with me, now sitting between us on the lawyer’s desk. It was empty.

            “Can we go over the facts again?” I asked him.

            He didn’t respond.

            “I think we need to come at this from a different angle,” I continued. “I think the solution is right there in front of us and it’s just so obvious we can’t see it!” I rapped my knuckle against the top of his desk to express my passion.

            “I have an appointment,” he said.

            I imagined us in court: me in a suit sitting at a table next to him, the courtroom full, him screaming at the judge: My client is not the one on trial here! I am calm, but not smug. I have complete confidence in him.

            “Hmm,” I said. He looked at me hard, smoldering with some kind of emotion.

            I reviewed the day’s events: Woke up at noon. Masturbated in the shower. Ate a cup of yogurt. Arrived ten minutes late for my appointment with this lawyer. Hmm.

            I was going to have to trace my steps back further, to the beginning of all this…

            I leaned forward in the chair, put my elbow on my knee, put my chin on my palm. I looked at the shelves of books lining the wall of the lawyer’s office. All of them nice leather-bound volumes. I didn’t read the spines. I took a deep breath. The lawyer looked at his watch. For a while, that’s how things stayed.