Knife Fight by Joel Goldman

 
     
    KNIFE FIGHT
    By Joel Goldman
     
     
    Every day is a knife fight. That’s what I tell my lawyer first time I meet her.
    “Travis,” she say to me, “what am I supposed to do with that?”
    “Shit, girl, you my lawyer. You figure it out.”
    We in a room at the jail where prisoners meet with they lawyers, a guard watchin’ through a window make sure I don’t climb inside her pants and escape. Hard floor, hard chairs, hard everything.
    Her name Alex Stone, Public Defender. She don’t look like much. Hit me ‘bout at my shoulders. Black hair cut short and tight. Got on black pants, black shirt and one of them six-pointed stars around her neck I seen Jews wear. She skinny and flat like she work out all the time. Got muscles ‘stead of tits. Girl gotta be on the down low.
    “You a lesbian?”
    She cross her arms. “Yeah.”
    “Jew?”
    “Two for two.”
    “So I got a Jew dyke for a lawyer. This shit is fucked up, man.”
    “Yeah, well don’t feel bad. Looks like I’ve got a black client who hates Jews and gays. I guess we’re both fucked.”
    I look at her, girl smilin’, maybe playin’ wit me. “You sayin’ you hate blacks?”
    She shake her head. “I’m saying that we are what we are. I don’t have a problem with it but if you do, get over it. Johnny Cochrane is dead.” She shove a paper across the table. “Take a look at this.”
    Court paper say I killed this dude Diego Hernandez. Call it capital murder and say they wanna give me the needle. I read my name. Travis Runnels. I like the way it look, big heavy black letters.
    “Way it is,” I say.
    “For now. We’ll see what the jury says.”
    “What about a deal?”
    She shake her head, not askin’ how come I want a deal if I’m innocent. “No way,” she say. “The D.A. is running for re-election.”
    I seen his ads on TV. Kevin Watts. He say vote for me cause I lock the niggas up. And the man a brother.
    “What if I’m convicted?”
    “You appeal. If you get the death penalty, the appeals can last ten to twelve years. Even if you lose, at least you win for awhile.”
    “Can I win an appeal?”
    “Depends on what happens at trial. If the judge screws up or I screw up, you might get a new trial.”
    “Whuju mean, if you screw up?”
    “The Constitution guarantees you the right to effective assistance of counsel. I don’t have to be perfect or the best. I can make mistakes but I have to be just good enough that you get a fair trial.”
    “What’s your track record?”
    She take a deep breath, look at me hard. “I lose most of the time.”
    “How come?”
    “Most of my clients are guilty.”
    “I’m innocent.”
    “Of course you are.”
    She don’t smile or nuthin. Girl’s a fuckin’ puzzle.
    “Ain’t you afraid you get me off, I go out and do it again? If I done it in the first place.”
    “I have nightmares about that,” she say, sittin’ across from me, lookin’ at my file. She put the papers down. “On the other hand, if you go to prison, you might kill someone inside just because he looks at you the wrong way. Or, you might get shanked in the shower because you’re not in love with someone who’s in love with you. There’s a lot that can happen in your life I can’t do a damn thing about but this case isn’t one of them.”
    She say all the right shit but that don’t mean she can get it done. “You jus a PD. What chance I got with you?”
    “Your only chance. The State has a witness that will testify you threatened to kill Diego Hernandez before he was found carved up like a Christmas goose. The cops found a knife and Diego’s blood in your car when they picked you up at your mother’s house. Plus, you’ve already done time for armed robbery and manslaughter that was pled down from murder two.”
    I lean back in my chair, lift the front legs off the floor, rock back and forth like that shit don’t mean nuthin. “I hear all that. You got a job to do. You jus wanna know how hard it gonna