The Lawyer's Lawyer - By James Sheehan Page 0,47

of saving him from his date with the grim reaper.”

The two men’s eyes met. They didn’t often go back there because they didn’t need to. Henry was reminding Jack, as Jack had reminded him just the night before, that one man through his faith and his tenacity can make a transforming difference in another man’s life.

“Chapman made the right decision asking you to come along, Henry.”

“Good, because it’s going to cost him. Did I tell you I’m flying back to Miami, Jack? I want you and your trees to have an opportunity to bond.”

The meeting at eleven didn’t go that well. Chapman was furious that Jack put conditions on whether he would represent Felton.

“We’ve only got two months, Jack. What if you review the files and meet with Felton and decide not to take the case? It will be too late to get somebody else in and do an effective job.”

“No, it won’t. You’ve got the files right here.” Jack pointed to four boxes leaning against the wall in Chapman’s office. They hadn’t been there the day before, and Jack correctly surmised that they were the files on Thomas Felton’s case. Chapman had been pretty sure of himself.

“I can get through those files in a week and meet with Felton the following week. I probably want to meet with him at least twice before the case management conference with Judge Holbrook. Meanwhile, you can line up an alternate if I don’t take the case. I will certainly work with whoever you get to bring them up to speed. I’ll even attend the case management conference with that person.”

Chapman wasn’t satisfied although he had no choice but to acquiesce. Jack was not going to budge.

“Okay, Jack, you’ve got two weeks.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The trip to visit a death row inmate at Union Correctional Institute in Raiford, Florida, was something Jack would never get used to. The formalities of signing in, being searched, leaving the freedom of fresh air and wide open spaces for steel bars and narrow hallways always made him appreciate his life just a little bit more.

He had tried to get Henry to come with him, figuring Henry could pick out a cold-blooded killer, no matter how good a con man he was, by just being in the room with him. Henry was reluctant to do it but he couldn’t say no to Jack. It was the warden who put the kibosh on the whole idea.

“The only way Henry Wilson is going to be allowed on death row is when he comes back permanently,” the warden had told Jack. Apparently the man had not gotten over the fact that Henry had been set free. And he had seemed so concerned for Henry’s well-being when Henry was about to be executed.

Jack could have fought the warden’s decision, especially if Felton had agreed to the visit. However, it would have taken time, and time was the one precious commodity he did not have. So he went alone to meet Thomas Felton.

The circumstances of the meeting itself were different from the usual procedure afforded to Jack. In the past, he had been allowed to meet with his client in a room, face to face across a table. Today, he was allowed only to sit at a chair in one room and talk to Felton by phone in another room while looking at him through a set of bars and windows. Death row inmates had very strict monitoring regulations: they lived in a six-by-nine foot cell; they couldn’t mingle with the prison population; they couldn’t even take a shower every day. Apparently, serial killers had even stricter regulations. Jack saw two guards standing behind Felton as he sat on his stool on the opposite side of the bars.

For a brief moment before picking up the phone, Jack studied Felton. He was still a young man at thirty-three, tall, thin and surprisingly handsome although his head was shaved. Jack looked into Felton’s clear green eyes. Felton returned the gaze. Jack picked up the phone.

“Hello, Mr. Felton. I’m Jack Tobin. I’m a lawyer with Exoneration and I’ve been asked to look into your case.”

“I know who you are, Mr. Tobin, and I’m honored to speak to a lawyer of your standing.”

That was unusual. The typical death row inmate, including Henry, practically spit on him when he introduced himself. They’d already been through a few lawyers and had been disappointed too many times to feel anything but enmity toward the litigators who came to visit bearing false hope.

Felton

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