SJ: Jus, babe, you’re forgetting something.

    Doc: SJ’s right. The no-witness thing is a step, but even with that and a ballistics fail, this case isn’t as cut-and-dried as you want it to be, Jus.

    Justyce: Why isn’t it?

    SJ: Because Quan confessed.

    Justyce: But he was lying!

    SJ: Doesn’t matter.

    Attorney Friedman: Unfortunately, she’s right, Justyce. Especially in this case. State’s got no reason not to believe him.

    Justyce: So that’s it? We let him take the plea and serve time for something he didn’t do?

    Doc: Take a breath, Jus. That’s not what Attorney Friedman said.

    Attorney Friedman: A confession isn’t a plea, but since it’s still admissible in court—

    Justyce: [Furrowing his brows.] Unless it isn’t.

    SJ: Huh?

    Justyce: Meeting adjourned. There’s something I gotta do. [Pushes off the edge of the pool table and heads for the stairs.]

         SJ: Oh boy.

    Jared: ATTAGUY, J-MAN!

    Liberty: [Whispering to Doc.] Is Jared always like this?

    Doc: Pretty much.

    Liberty: Yeesh.

   Quan’s in his cell, flipping through one of the poetry collections Doc dropped off, when he hears his name barked out like he stole something.

        “BANKS!”

   Shocks him so bad, he drops the book and falls off the bed.

   Also takes too long to respond, apparently. He can hear the heavy footsteps approaching just before his least-favorite guard’s glistening bald head pokes through the open doorway.

   More barking.

        “You don’t hear me calling you, fool?”

   “I heard you, I heard you,” Quan says, rubbing his knee. (These concrete floors are rough.) “Just startled me is all.”

        “Well, bring your raggedy ass on.” (Bark, bark, bark.) “You got a visitor.”

   “A visitor?”

   (Awww, damn. Who could it be thi—)

       “That’s what I said, ain’t it? You punk-asses act like you can’t understa—”

   But Quan doesn’t hear any more.

   What if it’s his lawyer again? Back to demand a decision about the plea offer.

   Which Quan hasn’t made yet. He’s waiting to hear back from Justyce, and it’s been less than forty-eight hours since Quan gave the letter to Doc to pass on. He’s gotta give his boy at least a little more time.

   They reach the turnoff to head down the hallway where lawyer meetings happen—and keep going.

   Now Quan’s really confused.

   Clearly ain’t Doc. Baldy knows who he is and would’ve taken Quan to the classroom wing. So who—?

   The sound of the visitation room door buzzing open snaps Quan back into his body. Baldy steps aside to let him enter…

   And now Quan thinks his head might explode. And his chest.

   His…everything.

   “Dawg!” Justyce says, standing up and spreading his arms.

   Takes everything in Quan not to

              RUN

              over to the table.

   (He successfully resists.)

   “Bruh, what’re you doing here?” Quan asks once he reaches Justyce. They slap hands, hook fingers, and pull into one of the best dap-hugs Quan’s ever experienced.

       “Hey, BREAK IT UP!”

   But nothing that hatin’-ass mahogany-bowling-ball-head has to say could bring Quan down now.

   “I had to come see you, man.” The boys take their seats, and Justyce looks left and then right. (Quan snorts and shakes his head. Justyce has no concept of smooth.) “I got your letters.”

   “I would hope so, fool!” Quan says, trying to keep things light.

   But Justyce ain’t lookin’ real playful. He peeks around again and leans forward. “Dawg, you gotta fire your lawyer.”

   “Huh?”

   “Don’t make a scene, man.” Though Justyce is really the one making a scene. Whispering and tryna be all clandestine and shit.

   Quan takes a realignment breath.

        Why is this visit becoming so stressful?

   “Justyce, you know you my boy, but you can’t pop up here making declarations like that without some kinda lead-in.”

   Justyce nods. “Okay, man. You right. I’m sorry.”

   “It’s cool.”

   A fitful, sparky tension blooms between them. Like a thundercloud trapped in a jar. One good lightning strike, and the whole thing’ll shatter.

       “Lemme start over,” Justyce says.

   “Yeah. Expound if you will, please.”

   Both boys laugh, and the walls seem to exhale.

   “So, I got your letters,” Justyce says.

   Quan nods. “Got that part.”

   “I was shocked by the first one. Where you told me…the thing. About the thing. But once it settled in, I wasn’t entirely surprised.”

   “Okay.”

   “I obviously respect you not wanting to uhh…say more.” The boys lock eyes, and understanding passes between them. “But having read that first letter, what you mention in the most recent one was troubling.”

   Quan clenches his jaw. Of course Justyce doesn’t get his predicament. Why would he? Justyce McAllister has always had options.

        Choices—

   “Some friends and I wanna help,” Justyce continues. “We got a new lawyer for you. A good one. She’s actually my girl’s mom, and she’s worked on a lotta cases like yours.”

   “Cases ‘like mine’?”

   Justyce nods, either oblivious to Quan’s irritation or ignoring it. “Young black dude gets caught up in some wrong place/wrong time shenanigans and winds up behind bars because of it.”