It was probably some sort of notebook for self-realization of goals or some other psychological improvement BS, but a notebook was a notebook, and a newly-minted lawyer could always use another notebook. Not like I had to use it for the purpose it said it was meant for. So I wrote my name in the box just as I had in all those composition notebooks in high school and bluebooks in law school: "Amanda Nocturne."
I looked up as it sounded like the windows vibrated. Was that thunder? Shoving the notebook in my messenger bag along with my laptop and an umbrella, I grabbed my suit jacket and trotted out the door. I didn't have the money yet to afford a decent briefcase or a new car, so I still looked like a law school student despite my new job at the Public Defender's office. It didn't matter much. I was so wet-behind-the-ears all I really did was shadow other attorneys around the courtrooms and do research. Made for some interesting topics, but really, many of the cases assigned to the Public Defender's office were more creepy or pathetic than high-profile.
Like today's trial. Some uber-creep doing uber-creepy things to innocent victims. Since he couldn't afford an attorney, the Public Defenders had to pick up the slack. Problem is, some of us were really good at our jobs. Too good. And some victims aren't all that innocent, either.
"The jury finds the defendent, Aloysius Edgars, not guilty."
Ugh. I knew I should be happy my supervisor won the case, but just sitting at the table with the client was giving me the heebie-jeebies. Still, being a lawyer meant putting on a smile, congratulating the client, and getting to the bathroom as fast as you could to wash your hands. I sighed at myself as I looked at myself in the mirror. I really wanted to believe I was doing my duty by giving clients the best defense possible, but on days like this, it was hard.
When I sat down at my desk in my apartment that evening to start research on another case, I just couldn't focus. Opening the nearest notebook, I started doodling, but I still couldn't get my head clear. Finally, I just wrote what I was thinking.
"Aloysius Edgars is a worm."
"Hey, did you hear?" My supervisor asked as I walked into his office the next morning. At my quizzical look, he began to elucidate. And I wondered if I had just lost my mind. What he told me was that Aloysius Edgars...