"And they took me here. I have no idea about their accusation— that's all that ever happened before I was arrested." I cried, explaining to the lawyer sitting in front of me.
He's much younger than me, he's around late 20's maybe, he's wearing a black suit paired with a white collared inner and a blood-red tie. I'm having doubts of him being my lawyer but by the looks of him scrupulously paying attention to every detail in the story I just narrated—he looks really confident but intriguing.
"You're implying that this is all just an accusation, and you are not guilty of it?" His hands clasp against each other and he's gaping directly at my eyes as if he wanted to see what's inside.
I got the idea in the tone of his speaking, making me furious, I was not able to control myself and banged my palms on the table which created a loud thud. "I did not do it! I'm innocent!" I exclaimed, but I was caught off guard by his reaction. He smirked.
"Good, then I'll get you out of this case in no time." He responded confidently, making me pull my arm back from the table and composed myself. "You'd be grateful the public attorney's office referred you to me." He added, making his smirk into a prideful grin.
I studied his face for a while and did not talk trying to concentrate myself. As far as I can remember, everything that happened yesterday was just fine, and I could not corroborate any suspicious details from what happened in my session with Stephen. I'm trying so hard to remember, but I know I did not do anything to him.
He leaned on his side and reached for his black attaché case that was on the ground and laid it onto the table, he then pops it open and grabbed the papers in it "I looked into your files." My brows met in the middle, wrinkling my forehead as I waited for him to continue. He handed me a bunch of papers, and I saw my picture at the top right side, stuck on one of them. "It shows that you were orphaned at the age of fourteen at St. Josephs' Care Home, after your parents died."
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath after I heard what he said.
"Murdered—inside your own house." He added, correcting the word Died as if it was not the right term used.
I felt my temple contracting, and my eyes dried up as I sucked in air to my nose. What he just said made me open my eyes wide, I'm sure the veins in my head and eyes can be seen visibly noticeable. I can feel my heart beating faster as residual memories of that night are flashing before my eyes. But what's clear in the details of the memory flashing is me at the background pointing at my parents' room.
"You were not involved in any delinquencies. You worked hard and got a scholarship and studied for a bachelor's degree in psychology at a university and pursued to get your master's after acquiring your psychometrician's license. I also got your grades which I was really interested in because it was all accurately maintained—I mean you did not graduate from the top of your class, but it's quite interesting that no fluctuations at all, all the same marks in every subjects." He pointed at one of the papers, but he shrugged it off immediately. "Well, that's not an important thing." He cleared his throat and continued. "I also got your result in this exam." He shuffled the papers and looked for the exam result and handed it to me. "You passed it and could have entered priesthood, the people from St. Joseph's also attested that you were such a good kid at their orphanage—so I'm kind of believing you are not the kind of person to this crime."
"So what if I was a good kid back then, how will it convince them that I did not murdered Stephen?"
"You're right, it won't." He answered and reached for another paper that was still in his attaché case. "You had no previous records of anything, and your entire nine years practicing as a clinical psychologist and counselor—there were no complaints against you, and your police records is rather clean— until now. So, I might be able to bail you out of here." He added, placing the paper on the table and tapping it with his finger.
"I'm not a lawyer, but aren't murder not bailable?" Intrigued, I asked.
"Should I not bail you?"
"I told you, I'm innocent." I promptly responded with a serious look on my face.
He laughed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was just playing with you—aren't psychologists good with the mind?" That was asked rhetorically so I just stared at him.
"Do you think this is all just a joke?" I'm losing my temper.
He apologized and continued to explain his point. "Yes, murder is not bailable. But in rare instances, if approached right and carefully, the court may give the discretion to allow bail."
Delighted by his statement, I leaned forward and listened carefully.
"In your case, Stephen Walpol was allegedly poisoned by you."
It was just until now that I learned that. "How?" Shocked, I asked. His face looked intrigued because of my reaction to his statement but he brushed it off.
"The coffee you gave him." He promptly replied.
"But he's the one who asked me for a coffee!" I really can't believe what's happening now. I can't. "And yes, I gave him coffee, but it was not poisoned!" I exclaimed, my voice now echoing inside the room.
"His guards and maids testified to it, and they claimed that Stephen did not ask for it. As a matter of fact, he even asked you 'What's this?' after you handed him the coffee— That's verbatim."
"Because he's depressed!" I shouted, interjecting his sentence. I'm channeling my anger towards him and I'm really having trouble controlling my demeanor now. "It's a common symptom of severe depression. I was going to help him." I explained, gradually lowering my voice hoping to recover from my outburst.
I relaxed myself and I started to notice the appearance of the room we were in. Dimly lit with a bulb hanging from the ceiling, wall painted in deep blue, white desk, brown chair, and I had just noticed it's a small room—almost suffocating.
"They also have footages of you handing it to him and smiling when leaving his mansion." He added to his sentence disregarding my reactions.
"Oh! So, smiling and being happy for my clients' progress can be charged as a crime now?" I expressed in a sarcastic tone.
"Well, it did give them an idea that you were satisfied accomplishing your premeditated act." He answered, gesturing a quotation sign on the word premeditated.
I shook my head, slightly snickering from the unbelievable claim they are accusing me.
"But, like I said." My attention returned back to him, and I waited for him to continue. "I might be able to bail you out." He paused for a while and waited for my reaction, what is he expecting? "That's their only evidence now, so far— Including the result of Stephen's autopsy. We could use your records, and their evidence against them." He explained, I just nodded. He may be young and arrogant, but I think I'm starting to trust him.
"Where did you buy the coffee?"
I did not respond and paused to realize that I had just bought the coffee from a small restaurant. I'm getting the gist where he's going to.
"We'll argue that the evidence of guilt is not strong, and we'll divert them toward where you bought the coffee— They'll be in question instead of you. And instead of murder, we can lessen the crime they are charging against you. But that's not our priority for now."
Despite all this and the mixed emotions I'm having now, I can't deny I am amazed by this young lawyer. "You're good."
That boosted his ego so much, his grinning up to his ears. "I told you, you'd be grateful they referred you to me."
"I'll file the motion for bail hearing today. Then we'll wait—we'll hope it'd not be denied."
"Okay." I nodded.
"For now, just try to remember more details from what happened during your session with Stephen, as well as when you have bought the coffee— if there was anything suspicious. Just tell me anything you remember, it might help." He instructed, stood up and he reached for a handshake before he left.
I was left in the room for a while before a police officer fetched me to be put back in my cell. But in that short period of time I was alone inside that room, I contemplated a lot.