“Miss Jones, you realize that we are discussing disbarment?”
“I do.”
“Do you have anything at all that you’d like to say?”
“It was an honor,” I say and my tone is respectable, but there’s not a bit of fight in it. All that I was is no longer recognizable in the echoing chamber of this room. “It was an honor to prosecute alongside you all.”
“Do you not deny the unethical nature of your recent actions and the speculation of criminal activity?” The question comes out incredulously.
“You didn’t do this.” My friend, boss, and mentor’s eyes are wide as she makes the statement. Her expression is one of complete shock.
“I urge you to reconsider—” Another member of the board who appears more confused than anything attempts to bring order to the room as murmurs erupt.
“It is her mental health,” Claire pipes up again. She isn’t wrong, but I’m not willing to go back to the reality I once held so close to my heart.
Malden rebuts Claire’s assertion, saying, “There is no evidence to support that and you do not speak on her behalf.”
“Delilah, say something,” Claire’s command is more of a plea. Her ever-imposing features are distraught. “You did not do what you are being accused of,” she speaks clearly and her tone is far more stable than it was a moment ago, but the crease in her brow and sorrow in her eyes tell me she’s anything other than balanced. She’s on edge. They all are.
The five of them stare back at me from where they sit and I feel nothing. I represented them and this court. I failed them. If nothing else, I can admit to that.
The tension in the room is all for them. I feel nothing.
“I am content with the board’s decision that I am not fit to practice law.” I practiced that statement this morning. I practiced speaking it calmly and clearly. It is my decision and it is best that I never hold any power of convincing others what is right and what is wrong again. “I am not fit for it.”
“For the moment—” Claire emphasizes with a pleading tone as she stands to her feet. The words aren’t meant for me. Her palms are on the large conference table as she leans over. “She cannot be held to the standards of the court when her mental state is in question.”
“Without any evidence from Miss Jones to support your statement that she isn’t mentally well, or any—”
“We have not even done an investigation!” Claire’s voice rises and all four men stare down the table at her. She’s losing it, her emotions getting the best of her. I wish she wouldn’t fight for me.
There’s a moment of deadened silence. It seems to dawn on her that it’s four against one. There’s a part of me that feels guilty, but if she knew the truth, she wouldn’t take my side in this. She’d join those four men and take their judgment in stride.
“The charges brought against her are severe and there does not appear to be any defense other than your claims that she is not well, Miss Eastings.” The argument progresses. Four against one until Claire heaves in a steadying breath and adjusts her blouse before taking her seat once again. She’s worn the look of defeat many times, but never did it age her like it does now.
I wish I could tell her I was sorry. If I could lie in this moment, I’d thank her and apologize for not fighting by her side as she speaks up for me. The reverence and compassion are still met with gratitude just the same, but I cannot lie. I’m not sorry to allow this to happen. I’m not sorry to be silent now and accept their judgment. I never want to cross beyond doors like ones behind me after I leave today. Never again.
Her passion should be saved for someone else. Someone who needs a voice to fight for them. Someone who’s gone through hell and once they’ve reached the end of it, they remain surrounded by a fire that holds them hostage until someone stronger can put it out.
Those people exist. The devil staying by their side to torment them with the memories of what injustice has been done to them. They surround us every day, hiding their pain and carrying on as if they’re like us, but they aren’t. The pain consumes them and they’re the ones she should save her