"Sandra, good of you to come on such short notice." Cedric's voice carried the authority of three decades in prosecution, though his tone remained cordial. "I believe you know Detectives Pickett and Bolton."
She nodded, settling into the remaining chair with the Reeves file placed on her lap.
"The Reeves boy," Cedric continued, his weathered hands steepled before him. "You had called me, saying you knew his mother.”
Sandra nodded. “Yes, she works part-time as a cleaner for our offices, and I’ve had the opportunity to get to know her, and on occasion, Robert, as well.”
Cedric looked down at the file in front of him. “Sixteen years old, found in a vehicle containing enough narcotics to suggest distribution."
Sandra straightened, feeling the familiar surge of protectiveness that came with defending her clients. "Mr. McCalister, with respect, from what his mother has told me, Robert Reeves was a passenger in that vehicle. He had no knowledge of the drugs, no involvement in their distribution, and no criminal history whatsoever."
Pete leaned forward, his frustration evident. "Clean record. Wrong place, wrong time. Yeah, he got into the car with the wrong person, but he’s cooperating. Giving us real information on Lashawn Tate, who is a Blood and is running through the Shore."
Sandra felt hope, realizing that Terry’s officers had the same dedication to finding the truth and not just jumping on the first suspect.
"The initial report had him in the vehicle at the scene of a crash," Cedric countered, his tone measured but firm. "Narcotics in the vehicle. That's more than 'wrong place, wrong time.'"
Sandra felt her pulse quicken, hoping the detectives would continue to advocate for the teenager whose mother she had gotten to know over the past year.
"He wasn't driving,” Pete said. “He wasn't carrying. He wasn't high. The blood work came back clean. We’ve had time todig, and there’s no evidence he knew what was in that damn car. He’s just a kid, Cedric. And we know he’s not the kind you make an example of."
"Legally, I could argue he was in possession by proximity," Cedric replied, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.
“Legally, you could argue a lot of shit that doesn’t make sense,” Pete retorted.
"Constructive possession requires knowledge and intent," Sandra shot back. "Two things the commonwealth cannot prove because they don't exist. This boy got a ride home from school with someone he thought was a friend. He had no idea what was in the trunk of that car."
That got her looks of approval from both Jeremy and Pete. She leaned forward, her brown eyes meeting Cedric's steady gaze. "This isn't someone who belongs in the juvenile justice system. Prosecuting him doesn't serve justice. It destroys a promising young life for the sake of statistics."
Cedric was quiet for a long moment, his fingers drumming against the leather-inlaid desk blotter. “You three are really pushing for this kid.”
“Because it’s the right call,” Pete added.
Cedric's weathered face remained impassive, but Sandra caught the slight softening around his eyes. “Fine. No charges. But I want updates, and if he puts one toe out of line, I expect to be the first to know.”
Jeremy nodded. “Appreciate it.”
Sandra let out a breath she’d been holding. “His mother will implement stricter rules about his social activities, and he can work with her cleaning the Legal Aid offices two afternoons a week.”
"Community service," Cedric mused aloud. "Something visible, something that shows we're taking this seriously."
Sandra felt the tension drain from her shoulders, replaced by the familiar surge of satisfaction that came with victory. "Thank you, Mr. McCalister. You won't regret this decision." She walked out of his office, smiling her thanks to Jeremy and Pete.
As she made her way out of the courthouse, Sandra's heels clicked against the marble floors of the courthouse corridor. Her phone buzzed in her purse, and without thinking, she glanced at the screen. Terry's name stared back at her. Her finger hovered over the answer button, trembling slightly as her heart rate spiked. The phone continued its insistent buzzing, and she could almost see him on the other end, probably pacing in his office or sitting in his truck, wondering if she'd send him to voicemail. Again.
Stop being a coward, she chastised herself, the words echoing in her mind with the kind of brutal honesty she usually reserved for clients.
"Hey," she answered softly, her voice barely above a whisper, and immediately heard his exhale on the other end.
"Sandra. I wasn't sure you'd pick up."
The relief in his voice melted over her, and she had to swallow hard against the emotion rising in her throat. She pushed through the courthouse doors into the afternoon air, grateful for the privacy of the parking lot.
"Terry, I'm sorry. I know you called yesterday, but I had court all day and then the Reeves case needed immediate attention. Today has been nonstop." The words tumbled out in a rush, part explanation and part excuse. All true but not the whole truth.
"I know Jeremy and Pete were meeting with you and McCalister about the kid.”
"Yes, we just finished. And before you ask, they're leaving with smiles on their faces. Cedric agreed to drop the charges in exchange for community service." She kept her voiceprofessionally neutral, safer ground than whatever emotional minefield lay ahead of them.
