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Marc Kadella was home early this evening. Marc and his wife Karen were separated and divorcing. Karen was having an affair with her boss, a partner in an investment firm. He made a lot more money––mid six figures––than a solo practitioner criminal defense lawyer. Karen was always a “grass is always greener” somewhere else type. Like most women who behave like that, especially for money, Karen would eventually find out that more money was not going to make her happier.

Marc had finished his dinner and rinsed the dishes for the apartment’s dishwasher. Looking forward to a quiet night in front of the TV, his hope for a lazy evening was about to be disrupted. The phone rang and he answered it.

“Mr. Kadella, this is your answering service. I have a message for you.”

“Okay, go ahead,” Marc said.

“A woman called asking for you. She gave her name as Barbara Bivens. She is a lawyer with a firm in downtown Minneapolis.

“She is calling with a criminal referral on behalf of a friend. She, Ms. Bivens, does not do criminal defense.

“Ms. Bivens asked that you call her back yet this evening,”

“Okay. What’s the number?”

Marc had, in the recent past, defended a man accused of being a serial killer. Of course, this case generated an enormous amount of publicity, enough so that Marc was in the enviable position of being able to pick and choose the cases he wanted. Which meant mostly paying clients only.

He even won the serial killer trial obtaining an acquittal for the man. Subsequent events proved the client was, in fact, guilty. The psycho attacked Marc’s investigator in her apartment after the case. The investigator, an ex-Chicago cup, threw the client out of a bay window and to his death eight stories below .

The fact that he was guilty and Marc got him off only made Marc’s newly formed star shine a little brighter. Still, when another lawyer wants to refer a case, courtesy requires listening.

“Barbara Bivens, please,” Marc said when she answered her phone.

“This is she, Mr. Kadella?” she answered and asked.

“Marc, please,” he said.

“Okay, Marc. Thanks for calling back,” Bivens said.

“What can I do for you?” Marc asked.

“What would you like to know?” she asked. “I have a case I’d like you to consider. I don’t do criminal defense at all. After that serial killer case, you must be getting swamped with calls.”

“I’m as busy as I want to be,” Marc said. “Tell me what you have.”

Five minutes later Marc knew everything Bivens knew.

“Okay. Let me make sure I understand this. The client is a middle school boy transitioning into becoming a girl. The victim is a middle school girl transitioning into becoming a boy. Am I right so far?”

“Yep, you got it,” Bivens said.

“They got into a squabble at school, at Wheaton, the boy trans got the better of it and he’s, do I still refer to him as he?”

“Okay with me,” Bivens said.

“Anyway, the he trans is being charged with third degree felony assault. Is the girl trans, I hope I have this right, in the hospital?”

“You have it right and no she is not in the hospital. Her father is Harold Lane, a senior partner of Rockford, Bass. When the governor needs to appoint someone to the bench, these guys get a phone call.”

“That explains that,” Marc said.

“His wife, according to Priscilla, is the one making the fuss about this. She’s a former Miss Minnesota and at least twenty years younger than Harold. Sounds like a first-class bitch, too.”

“So, the hottie trophy wife and mom calls Harold and threatens him with moving into his own bedroom. He calls Craig Slocum who trots down Seventh Street to the Rockford offices, genuflects, kisses Harold’s ass and goes overboard and charges Robbie with a serious felony for breaking the brat’s nose,” Marc said referring to the current elected county attorney, Craig Slocum.

“That pretty much sums it up. Tell me I’m wrong. From what I read in the papers during your serial case, good job by the way, you and Slocum have a history.”

“Nah, we’re the best of friends. Any day now, I’m expecting an invitation to Thanksgiving at my old buddy Craig’s house,” Marc sarcastically replied.

Bivens was laughing then said, “Liar.”

“No, I’m serious. I figure he could get away with poisoning me that way.

“Now comes the big question,” Marc said.

“She can pay,” Bivens said before Marc could ask. “She’s executive vice president at Crystal Cosmetics. She does very well. Plus, she comes from money.”

“Okay, I’ll go down to see him now.”

Lawyers visiting clients are not really subject to normal visiting hours. The Sixth Amendment is not open to discussion by jailors. It was after nine o’clock when Robbie was brought into a conference room to meet Marc.

“Take those off him,” Marc said referring to the manacles attached to Robbie’s wrists.

“We have rules…” the guard started to say.

“Meant to be broken. He’s not going anywhere, officer. So please, remove them.”

“Yeah, okay,” he reluctantly agreed.

“Who are you?” Robbie asked when they both sat down at the table.

“My name is Marc Kadella. I’m a criminal defense lawyer and I was asked by a friend of your mother to look into your case.”

“Thank you,” Robbie said, his relief obvious. “Can you help me?”

“We’ll see. Tell me what happened. Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out,” Marc said.

When he finished, Marc told him to tell it to him again. After the second time, satisfied Robbie was telling the truth, Marc decided he would take the case .

“You were in study hall and there were close to thirty other students who witnessed this?”

“And a teacher, Ms. Gillian, Ms. Debra Gillian,” Robbie replied. “Aren’t you gonna write this down?”

“I have a mind like a steel trap,” Marc said. “What goes in, never gets lost.”

“Really?” Robbie asked.

“No. But we’ll have plenty of time to go over this again.

“Relax tonight. I’ll meet you at the juvenile court tomorrow morning. Is it too late to call your mother?”

“No, she’ll want to talk to you.”

“What about your dad?”

“Talk to mom. She has his balls in her purse.”

Marc, somewhat taken aback by Robbie’s answer about his father, said, “Okay, I’ll call your mom. Priscilla?”

“Yeah.”

“The Juvie court is just down the street from here. It’s connected so they’ll get you there. I’ll see you then. We’ll try to get you out with no bail. From what I was told, they’re gonna try to move you into adult court.”

“Would I go to prison?” Robbie asked, his voice cracking.

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself. We have a great case of self-defense. You’re lucky you only hit him once and there are witnesses. Relax, you’ll be safe in here tonight. In any case, no one’s going to send you to an adult prison. Don’t worry about it.”