Page 37 of The Right to Remain

“Your old name—that was from when you were a woman?”

“My dead name. Yes.”

“Do people know you’re a trans man?”

“Some people figure it out. But as far as I’m concerned it’s nobody’s business. Except for my girlfriend, Sheila, who you met.”

Jack had guessed they were more than just friends. “Who else knows?”

“No one at VanPoll Enterprises. Maybe a few people suspect. But no one has said anything.”

“Does Patricia Dubrow know?”

“She’s one of those who figured it out. When she made the referral, she said it was up to me to decide whether to tell you. But she did warn me that you might be transphobic. So, I was waiting for the right time.”

“Wait a minute,” said Jack, wounded. “Patricia told you I might be transphobic?”

“Well, what she actually said was that your father was no friend to the LGBTQ community as governor. A staunch opponent of gay marriage.”

“That’s my father, not me. I’m not transphobic, homophobic, or anything of the sort.”

“No need to explain. It’s actually okay if you’re transphobic. Really. Patricia said that would make us the twenty-first-century version of Tom Hanks and Denzel Washington.”

Jack didn’t make the connection at first. “Are you talking aboutPhiladelphia—the movie?”

“Yes.Patricia told me to watch it. Tom Hanks won an Academy Award playing the gay client dying of AIDS. He hired a homophobic lawyer played by Denzel Washington to sue his employer for discrimination. And he won, even though his lawyer was antigay.”

The labels were starting to irritate Jack. “I need you to stop it,” he said.

“Stop what?”

“Stop trying to turn this conversation into a pity party for poorElliott, whose lawyer is mean to him because he’s trans. It doesn’t matter to me that you’re trans, any more than it matters if one of my clients goes under the knife for a facelift and a tummy tuck, has a standing appointment for Botox injections, or smears on Brazilian bum-bum cream every morning. But if my client had a name change or is a convicted felon, I need to know. Am I clear?”

“Yes, and I’m sorry,” said Elliott. “The most important thing Patricia told me was that I couldn’t find a better lawyer than Jack Swyteck. I don’t want to lose you.”

Jack appreciated the contrition but remained firm. “If I decide not to represent you, it’s not because you’re trans. It’s because I can’t trust you to tell me the truth.”

“I already promised not to lie to you.”

“Good. Let’s start with your felony conviction, and I’ll make this as easy as I can for you. If I, as your lawyer and someone you can trust, in the privacy of this office, asked you what the conviction was for, your answer would be—”

Jack paused, waiting for Elliott to fill in the blank.

Elliott looked away, then back. “Let me explain why that question bugs me. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. Communication is a good thing.”

“As a criminal defense lawyer, would you refuse to represent someone accused of a very serious crime—murder, let’s say—if they refused to tell you if they were guilty or innocent?”

“No. I’d rather have a client who will neither ‘confirm nor deny’ than a client who lies to me.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, I haven’t even been charged with a crime. I’m telling you straight up that I had nothing to do with Owen Pollard’s death. But for some reason, the sky is going to fall unless I tell you all about an unrelated crime I committed as a juvenile, which was expunged from my record by the court, which I understand to mean that if the prosecutor asks me about it, I can legally tell her under oath, ‘No, I’ve never been convicted of a crime.’ Am I right?”

“That is whatexpungedmeans,” said Jack.

“To me, that’s the end of it. It’s embarrassing and painful for me to talk about it, all right?”

Elliott seemed genuine about “embarrassing and painful,” and it was hard to see any relevance to Owen Pollard’s death. Jack didn’t need to press it—at least not yet. “Let’s put a pin in that, for now,” he said. “Conviction or no conviction. Expunged or not. I’m going to give you the same advice I’d give to anyone in your situation.”