careless they were with their excellent identity profile. Thanks to Mr. Fortune, the public had been taught to be as equally interested as bankers and the Government with setting boundaries for criminal cretins. He had shown what the typical fun filled day of an identity thief looked like in black and white. The sight was horrifying enough to prevent consumers from breeding these fakes by protecting their information.
William’s area of the table was littered with books, notes, and handwritten chapters of his manuscript. He continued to envision visiting Ashley Tomlinson, his former criminal law professor. While not a law student, William was granted permission to take the course. He consulted with Professor Tomlinson for novel plots since.
He jotted a few case numbers to further investigate through the West Law system, and then closed up his books. He cleaned up his area and then headed to the professor. William could hear the professor laughing wildly at what he planned to ask.
EIGHT
“ G one are the days when technology and science had not yet developed and a good criminal trial was based on facts brought before the judge and jury by law abiding civilians who eye-witnessed the actual crime. You fine, young lads will have to play lawyer in a legal game of basketball. To achieve a win, or victory, which is what your media pals will liken it to, rather than an acquittal, you must build a team to rival our beloved Lakers.
“ At point guard will be your private investigator, which has to be as lightning fast with his fact finding as Derek Fisher bringing up the ball. Your shooting guard or forensic scientist should rain uncontested scientific details as precisely and expertly as Kobe Bryant drops shots. The small forward, Ron Artest, good for a nice pick and roll will be your criminal psychologist claiming that your guy did or didn’t—depending on your needs—have the state of mind to have committed these acts. And we all know Ron is the man to throw a psychological loop around the opponent’s throat. Power forward, the deadly Pau Gasol is on deck as the venomous pathologist. He’ll give all the gruesome details of the corpses, after the Celtics have been left for dead once again.”
That garnered a little laughter, but the professor went on, “And lastly, when you’re prepared to block all of the prosecutorial theories, there is your shot blocker, or alibi, Andrew Bynum.
“ You’ll deal with motions, jury selection, proffer hearings, and different judges every trial. Now that I have introduced you to next week’s topic, I’ll see you next week. Consult your syllabus for reading selections and assignments.”
Professor Ashley Tomlinson dismissed his senior Criminal Law class and sat at his desk. He looked up and saw his brightest non-law major student.
“ William Fortune!” He whispered. His baritone voice barely able to pull that off.
William sat in front of Tomlinson. The beefy professor had the feminine name Ashley, but he was by no means soft. His six-feet-four frame towered over his students. Outwardly, he had an intimidating appearance. He would not squash an ant, though. He would cite some law about protecting ants. He wore crisp razor sharp jeans over his lengthy legs, and snug fitting sweaters showcased his broad shoulders and gut. That was him, Professor Ashley Tomlinson: eighteen years as a consultant to the United States Attorney’s Office in Los Angeles, and a Rolodex that needed a body guard.
“ What’s going on?” Tomlinson asked, before adding, “I’ll be administering the complex motion writing exam in a half, so make it quick, Fortune.”
“ Won’t be more than five minutes,” William said, earnestly. “Here are the hard facts, I want to murder someone—”
“ William Fortune!” Professor Tomlinson loved the first name, last name approach. “Have you lost your mind? You’ll get the death penalty.”
“ How about stealing a corpse?”
“ What about
William’s area of the table was littered with books, notes, and handwritten chapters of his manuscript. He continued to envision visiting Ashley Tomlinson, his former criminal law professor. While not a law student, William was granted permission to take the course. He consulted with Professor Tomlinson for novel plots since.
He jotted a few case numbers to further investigate through the West Law system, and then closed up his books. He cleaned up his area and then headed to the professor. William could hear the professor laughing wildly at what he planned to ask.
EIGHT
“ G one are the days when technology and science had not yet developed and a good criminal trial was based on facts brought before the judge and jury by law abiding civilians who eye-witnessed the actual crime. You fine, young lads will have to play lawyer in a legal game of basketball. To achieve a win, or victory, which is what your media pals will liken it to, rather than an acquittal, you must build a team to rival our beloved Lakers.
“ At point guard will be your private investigator, which has to be as lightning fast with his fact finding as Derek Fisher bringing up the ball. Your shooting guard or forensic scientist should rain uncontested scientific details as precisely and expertly as Kobe Bryant drops shots. The small forward, Ron Artest, good for a nice pick and roll will be your criminal psychologist claiming that your guy did or didn’t—depending on your needs—have the state of mind to have committed these acts. And we all know Ron is the man to throw a psychological loop around the opponent’s throat. Power forward, the deadly Pau Gasol is on deck as the venomous pathologist. He’ll give all the gruesome details of the corpses, after the Celtics have been left for dead once again.”
That garnered a little laughter, but the professor went on, “And lastly, when you’re prepared to block all of the prosecutorial theories, there is your shot blocker, or alibi, Andrew Bynum.
“ You’ll deal with motions, jury selection, proffer hearings, and different judges every trial. Now that I have introduced you to next week’s topic, I’ll see you next week. Consult your syllabus for reading selections and assignments.”
Professor Ashley Tomlinson dismissed his senior Criminal Law class and sat at his desk. He looked up and saw his brightest non-law major student.
“ William Fortune!” He whispered. His baritone voice barely able to pull that off.
William sat in front of Tomlinson. The beefy professor had the feminine name Ashley, but he was by no means soft. His six-feet-four frame towered over his students. Outwardly, he had an intimidating appearance. He would not squash an ant, though. He would cite some law about protecting ants. He wore crisp razor sharp jeans over his lengthy legs, and snug fitting sweaters showcased his broad shoulders and gut. That was him, Professor Ashley Tomlinson: eighteen years as a consultant to the United States Attorney’s Office in Los Angeles, and a Rolodex that needed a body guard.
“ What’s going on?” Tomlinson asked, before adding, “I’ll be administering the complex motion writing exam in a half, so make it quick, Fortune.”
“ Won’t be more than five minutes,” William said, earnestly. “Here are the hard facts, I want to murder someone—”
“ William Fortune!” Professor Tomlinson loved the first name, last name approach. “Have you lost your mind? You’ll get the death penalty.”
“ How about stealing a corpse?”
“ What about
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