And he’s black.

   Justyce is sure he didn’t imagine the little flicker of pride on the man’s face when Attorney Friedman introduced Justyce as one of her “undergraduate interns who just completed his first prelaw year at Yale.”

   And now? Justyce has the man’s full attention.

   “So you’ve been in communication with the defendant, young man?” the DA asks.

   “Yes, sir. I have. We’ve known each other since childhood but began corresponding through letters in January.”

   “Do you intend to enter any of these letters into evidence, Adrienne?”

   “I do not.”

   The DA’s head tilts just the slightest bit. “You don’t?”

   “Genuinely don’t think it’ll be necessary,” Attorney Friedman says.

   Attorney Baldwin: “Interesting.”

       “We’re actually here about some things he expressed to me in person,” Justyce continues.

   “In person?”

   “Yes, sir. I paid him a visit at the detention center about a week ago, and he shared some information that I believe warrants further investigation.”

   Now Attorney Baldwin leans back in his fancy leather desk chair. Clasps his hands over his midsection. “I’m listening.”

   “Well, the first thing he said is that the firearm found at the scene and used to identify him wasn’t the one that fired the fatal shot.”

   Baldwin’s eyebrows leap up to attention.

   “Do you know if ballistics were run, Marcus?” Attorney Friedman says. “I didn’t see any reports in the files that were turned over to me. There’s a confession on record, yes, but considering the severity of the charges here, I feel it vital to carry out a full investigation with due diligence.”

   Baldwin puts his hands up. “I hear you. It’ll probably take a few weeks, but I’ll make sure the proper tests are ordered. However, as you just mentioned, with an admission of guilt on file—”

   “That’s the other thing,” Justyce says, cutting Attorney Baldwin off.

   And immediately regretting it. “Oh, man. My apologies, sir. I didn’t mean to—”

   “Go on, Mr….McAllister, is it?”

   “Yes, sir. Uhhh…” Now Jus has to get back on his game. He clears his throat. “As I was saying, when I last spoke with Vernell, we had a brief discussion about the particulars of his confession, and…well, I think the circumstances surrounding said confession could use a closer look.”

       “And what exactly would we be looking for, Mr. McAllister?”

   Without thinking, Justyce looks at Attorney Friedman.

   “You’re in my office with my full consideration, Mr. McAllister. You don’t need Attorney Friedman’s permission to speak. Go on, please.”

   Justyce takes a deep breath. “Based on what Qua—I mean Vernell told me, sir, I think his Miranda rights may have been violated.”

   Now Justyce really has the DA’s “full consideration.” Feels like he’s on a slide that’s just been clipped into place beneath the lens of a microscope. “Is that right?” the man says, picking up a pair of glasses from the desk and sliding them onto his face before opening a drawer to pull out a legal pad. (Justyce almost laughs at this.)

   “Yes, sir.”

   Attorney Baldwin scribbles some stuff. “Well, you have my word that we will thoroughly investigate the matters you’ve brought to my attention.”

   “Thank you, sir.”

   Baldwin tosses his pen on the desk, removes his glasses, and looks Jus in the eye. Jus wants to look away posthaste but forces himself not to.

       “You picked a good one, Adrienne,” Baldwin says.

   “Don’t I know it,” from Attorney Friedman.

   “You’ve got a bright future ahead of you, Mr. McAllister,” Attorney Baldwin continues. “Vernell’s lucky to have you as a friend. It’s unfortunate, but in the majority of cases like this one, the young men involved don’t have any true advocates. I commend you for coming forward.”

   “Just don’t want to see another African American boy wind up in prison, especially for a crime he didn’t commit,” Jus replies, feeling a burst of boldness shoot up inside him, strong and steady. “As a person committed to the dispensation of true justice, I hope you feel the same way, sir.”

   Attorney Baldwin draws back the teeniest bit and blinkblinkblinks. And out of the corner of his eye, Justyce sees Mrs. F “cough” into her fist.

   “Ahh…” Attorney Baldwin clears his throat. “Yes. I most certainly do, young man.”

   “Thrilled to hear it.”

   There’s a beat of silence that feels to Justyce like an invisible balloon full of confetti is about to burst overhead and shower the room in his sense of triumph. Then:

   “Is there anything else I can do for the two of you?” from Attorney Baldwin.

   “I think that covers everything, sir,” Jus replies.

   And Mrs. F just grins.

   Despite the “meeting” Quan was pulled into—with Liberty and Tay—in preparation for this week’s visitor, each step up the corridor makes him feel that much closer to the chopping block for a beheading.

        (Maybe shouldn’t’ve read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland last night.)

   It’s gotta be bad.

   Like has to be.

   It’s not just the fact that she hasn’t visited once in the twenty-one months he’s been in here.

   She also never answers when he calls—which he made a point of doing at least once every couple weeks for the entire first year he was locked up.

   She hasn’t sent any letters. Or care packages.

   Which means whatever she’s coming to tell Quan is so bad,

              she feels the need to say it

           to

     his

     face.

   And he ain’t ready.

   But it doesn’t matter. Because the superintendent has stopped and the door is opening and her chin is lifting. Eyes widen, mouth opens—

              “Ain’t got all day, Banks…,” the superintendent says.