“Nope. She’d make sure of it. Might even be able to get you a better one if it comes to that. Based on everything you’ve told me, it sounds like you were overcharged.”

   This makes Quan smile. “Oh, so you a lawyer now, smarty pants? One year up in bougie-and-educated land, and you ready to take on my case?”

   Justyce smiles back. “I’m working on it.”

        “TIME’S UP!” (Bark bark.)

       “Guess that’s my cue.” Justyce stands.

        And

    Quan’s

    chest

    tightens.

   “Yeah. Guess it is,” he says. (But Justyce just got here, didn’t he? Damn.)

   “You’re gonna do it, right?”

        “BANKS! I know your punk ass heard me!”

   Quan glances over his shoulder at angry Baldy.

   Is it really possible he could get outta here?

        He stands.

    And ponders.

    And ponders a little more.

   “You sure about all this, man?” he finally says, reaching out to dap Justyce up.

        “HEY! None of that gang shit in here! You ’bout to lose your visitation privile—”

   “Would I be here if I weren’t?”

   Quan looks at Justyce.

   Justyce looks at Quan.

* * *

   And understanding passes between them.

June 1

    Dear Justyce,

    So I did it, as I’m sure you know. Cut John Mark like a loose thread (which honestly is kind of what he was) and had my case turned over to your girl’s mom.

    Adrienne.

    (Do you call her that, by the way? She insisted I should, but shit’s weird, and I feel like my mama would smack the taste out my mouth if she heard me refer to a grown woman—a professional grown woman at that—by her first name.)

    ANYWAY.

    I met her today. She came in and we talked for a while and she asked me a bunch of questions the other dude never asked. And I’m pretty sure she actually believes everything I told her. Which was even a little bit uncomfortable despite the fact that I was telling the truth.

    I just didn’t realize what a difference it would make to be in conversation with someone who genuinely wants to keep me OUT of prison altogether. Shit made me realize that in all my years dealing with the system, I ain’t never had an attorney who wanted to see me totally free. It kinda got me thinking about some of the dudes I’ve met over the years who wound up getting put away for a long time. Not like we ever sat around talking about our problems in a Kumbaya circle or anything, but I know a lot of us were similar: home lives that were messed up (or “high trauma” if you let Liberty tell it. Bruh, the pantsuit she had on when she came by the other day…whew!); people all around expecting us to blow it at some point; no adult role models…

         And like, none of that is an excuse, but now that I find myself with all these people in my life who believe I’ve got some good in me and want to see me live it out…well, I’m scared, man. I don’t even know who I AM right now, writing you all this feely shit, but it’s true.

    Ms. Adrienne (ain’t no way I can call that lady JUST by her first name!) made a statement at the end of our meeting that still has me shook: “We’re on your side, Quan. Our goal is to get you out of here and reintegrated into society as a vital contributor to the betterment of the world.”

    But what if I can’t “reintegrate,” Justyce? What even do I have TO “contribute”? It’s not like I haven’t tried to be and do good. Like yeah, when I was like fourteen, fifteen, I stopped caring cuz it didn’t really seem like anybody cared about ME. But it took some years for me to get to that point, you know? Years of caring. And trying. And failing. And not knowing what to do about it or how to fix it. Cuz I was trying, Justyce. I was trying so damn hard.

    Like I’m looking back now, and SO MANY OF US who wind up in here really did WANT to do shit the right way and be “successful.” But there’s so many other things dudes like us be contending with. Again, not saying that’s an excuse, but I also can’t sit here and pretend like the shit doesn’t matter.

         It’s this new dude on my cellblock, Berto. Latino dude. He’s been here for about a month now. I got him talking the other day—bruh, dude didn’t talk to NOBODY his first few weeks up in here—and he’s 16 and in for a murder charge as well. But he was telling me how growing up, he was this real good kid, until some stuff happened in his family.

    So he went looking for a new family. Like a lot of us do. Same story with another dude we call Stacks. He’s constantly talking about “this guy” he knows (aka himself) and how “he was workin’ to become a musician,” but “he was young and ain’t have no guidance”; how “he just wanted a family so he went and found one,” but then “he got in trouble doing family shit.”

    And that’s what it comes down to. We find the families we were desperate for and learn different ways of going about things. Ways that sometimes land us in places/positions we don’t really wanna be in.

    What if I can’t shake that? What if I get outta here and then wind up in the wrong place at the wrong time again? What if I disappoint everybody going to bat for me right now? What do I even have to offer the world, Justyce? Like if I get out for REAL for real, what am I actually gonna DO?

    And I hate that I’m even thinking about this shit. That I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay outta trouble.

         That I’m even considering what life will be like back on the outside.

    Because what if this doesn’t work and “hope” fails me again and I get locked up…for life?

    I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle that, man.

          Sincerely,

     Quan

       Despite being here to oppose him in a sense, Justyce would be lying if he said he wasn’t in awe of Attorney Marcus Anthony Baldwin Sr. The DA is tall and fit and stately. Warm, but clearly about his business. Jovial, but take-no-shit. A man whose presence commands full attention and utmost respect.