After. Part 31

Dom and Devon and the rest of the courtroom jump to their feet. Judge Saynisch collects his papers and slowly descends from his bench, exits the side door of the courtroom.

Dom turns to shake Mr. Floyd's hand. They converse for a moment. As they're talking, Mr. Floyd replaces his Bluetooth to the side of his head, and pulls his BlackBerry out of its holster.

Devon stares up at Judge Saynisch's empty bench.

When he'd announced his decision, Devon didn't feel as relieved or exhilarated as she imagined she would. And she doesn't understand why.

She's exhausted; that's the most prominent feeling Devon's aware of. Maybe she's too tired to feel relief.

Dom turns to Devon. Her smile is huge. She holds out her hand.

Devon looks down at it. She remembers the first time Dom had offered her hand for Devon to shake. That first time in the conference room. Devon had ignored it that day. Not a good way to kick off a relationship.

"We won!" Dom says. "Congratulations, Devon."

Devon reaches for Dom's hand. They shake, then high-five.

"No, congrats to you, Dom. You totally did everything." Devon tries to return Dom's smile, but she doesn't feel much like smiling.

"Hey, guys!"

Devon's mom's voice. Both Devon and Dom turn around to look for her.

She's rushing up from the gallery, pushing past the few people lingering between them. "That was amazing!" Devon's mom says. "You were so awesome, Ms. Barcellona." She giggles. "You should be on TV. Like that Judge Judy. You're that good."

Dom laughs. "I'll take that as a compliment, Jennifer. And please call me Dom."

Dom turns to Devon, squeezes her shoulder. "We won, Devon," she whispers. "We won."

Devon nods. "I know."

Then why does she feel like she's lost?

chapter twenty-four.

"Let's pop into a conference room," Dom says as they exit the courtroom. "Just for a sec."

Dom, Devon, and her mom file into the nearest empty room. Dom drops her briefcase on the tabletop. Pulls out one of the folding chairs.

"Anyone want a soda?" Dom asks. "My mouth is a desert."

"Sure." Devon pulls out a chair, oriented in the customary position-directly across the table from Dom. "Maybe a Mountain Dew?"

"I'll get them," Devon's mom says.

"That would be great." Dom rummages in her briefcase for her wallet. "Diet Pepsi, if they have it. Diet c.o.ke if they don't." She hands Devon's mom a handful of change. "Thanks so much, Jennifer."

When Devon and Dom are alone, Dom says quickly, "I know you're totally exhausted, Devon, and the last thing you want to talk about right now is law stuff, but you mind if we just take a few minutes to go over what went on in there?"

"Sure, Dom. That's fine."

"Okay, good. So the verdict. Now you do understand that the judge's decision to retain your case in the juvenile court system is great for you. But his decision makes no statement whatsoever about your guilt or innocence. All right? The hearing wasn't about guilt or innocence, but about in which system your guilt or innocence will be ultimately determined."

Devon yawns; she's so tired. How can Dom still be so energized? "Yes, Dom. I understand that."

"Okay. So, we're not off the hook. But I've been doing some thinking while we were in there."

Devon shakes her head. "Dom-"

"Yeah, I know. I'm totally obsessed, right? That's one reason why I'm still single at the moment."

"Who's single?" Devon's mom says.

Devon and Dom turn to look at her, standing in the doorway, already back from the soda machine.

"I am," Dom says.

Devon's mom hands out the cans. "Oh, well, you're not the only one-I definitely feel your pain. But, on the bright side, they had Diet Pepsi, so you're in luck. Or still in luck. Or your luck is continuing. Or, this is your lucky day. Or-"

"Mom."

"Oh, I'm so happy!" Devon's mom says. "This is such a good day. Isn't it?"

Dom smiles. "Definitely." She pops her Diet Pepsi and takes a sip. "So, I was just about to tell Devon that I think there's a slight chance that this thing could go away."

"What thing?" Devon's mom's face shifts to anxious. "The jurisdiction thing that was decided today? Please say no."

"No, not that."

"They can't reverse it, can they?"

"No, Jennifer. I really doubt the State would request an appeal. No, what I'm talking about is the slight possibility that we could get rid of the most serious charges. The attempted murder charge, specifically."

Devon feels something p.r.i.c.k inside herself. She looks at Dom closely. "Why?"

"Well, because of that issue you brought up, Devon, about the detective and your mom not granting him entrance into-"

"Oh, G.o.d," Devon's mom says. "That. Don't remind me. That labeled me permanently as the courthouse s.l.u.t."

"Mom," Devon says. "Please. Dom's trying to talk."

"Okay, hon." Devon's mom winks. "Sorry." She makes a motion of zipping her lips.

Devon shakes her head, sighs. She glances down at her Mountain Dew can. Condensation is forming on it causing tiny rivulets, like tears, to flow down its sides.

Dom takes another sip of her Diet Pepsi. "The reason why this issue is so serious is because what happened that morning with the detective may have been an illegal search. Searches and seizures are Fourth Amendment issues, very big deals. Anyway, if we can show that Detective Woods didn't have your permission to enter"-she nods at Devon's mom-"or that he didn't have probable cause to believe that he would find evidence of a crime inside your apartment-"

"Well, didn't he have probable cause?" Devon brings her thumbnail up to her mouth, chews on it. "Maybe?"

"For what?" Dom sounds annoyed now. "To find a teenaged girl staying home from school? Hundreds of kids do that every day in Tacoma." She sighs. "Look, if the police have neither permission nor probable cause, then they can't legally enter a person's home. Period. And we can argue that since they had neither, they in fact entered illegally. And if they entered illegally, then any evidence that they found inside the apartment because of it-like you, Devon, covered in blood and lying under a blanket, for example-"

The words send a jolt through Devon. Again. When will these ugly facts about her finally lose their sting?

"-then that evidence would not be admissible in court. At all."

But still . . . it should be admissible, Devon thinks. Shouldn't it?

"I'm sorry, Dom," Devon's mom says. "I know that I'm probably being very dumb about this legal stuff. But what does that all mean?"

Dom takes off her wire frames, polishes them on the hem of her skirt. "Look, a case is built on evidence, right? So, if we can block the evidence from coming into the trial, there's no case. Understand?"

Devon's mom's face brightens. "Are you kidding? No case? That would be great! We should definitely go for it."

"So, if we got rid of the search," Dom says, putting her gla.s.ses back on, "then the only charge that might stick is the a.s.sault charge against the doctor in the emergency room. And even with that one, we can make a pretty good argument against it. That crime is only a misdemeanor anyway."

"I still can't believe you did that, Dev," Devon's mom says. "Kicking that doctor when she was only trying to help you."

Neither can I. Devon traces one of the Mountain Dew can's tears with a fingertip. She opens her mouth, and before she realizes what she's doing, she says it. "No."

Dom turns to Devon, frowns. "What's 'no,' Devon?"

Devon can't take it back now. She clears her throat. "No, as in I don't think I want to do that, Dom."

Dom frowns. "Do what?"

Devon sighs. "You know . . . whatever it is you're talking about. Saying that the detective came into our apartment illegally. It just doesn't feel right . . . or something."

"Why not? Look, it might not even fly. We'd have to file a suppression motion, have a hearing on it, and there's a fair chance that we'd lose. Just based on your mom's body language alone, which arguably could convey tacit permission, not to mention the doctrine of discovery." She pauses. "At the very least, we could use the search as a bargaining chip. Get the state to knock the murder charge down to manslaughter, or even off the table altogether, and just keep the criminal mistreatment and abandonment charges." Dom's eyes are bright with the possibilities.

Devon can't believe that Dom is saying this. Where was all the tough talk she'd fired at Devon over the past week? Threatening that Devon could end up in jail for life, insinuating that she'd probably deserve it, too, if it ended up that way.

Was Dom so intoxicated with her victory that she couldn't see things straight anymore?

The day had been excruciating, something Devon would never ever want to go through again. But she had learned so many things . . . about herself.

She looks at her mom over on the opposite side of the table. She's digging in her purse now, searching for lipstick and the tiny mirror she always keeps inside. She'd dug around for a baby bottle once. She'd carried diapers, too.

Devon looks over at Dom. Dom doesn't know. She thinks she knows, but she doesn't. Not the details of That Night. Only Devon knows them. Only Devon and that little baby, and, thankfully, she'd never even remember it.

But Devon, she will always remember it.

Devon closes her eyes. She sees that tiny body again, lying in the sink, the limbs momentarily lifeless.

Devon had hoped, hadn't she? She feels the resistance, but her brain pushes through it. Yes. She had stood outside her bathroom door, the trash bag limp in her right hand. She had stared across the bathroom at the thing slumped in the sink. And at that moment, she had hoped that IT was dead.

But she saw it move again. She knew it was alive.

No, Dom has never seen the nightmare in the bathroom. The gore spread across the bathroom floor and splattered up the walls. How could Devon ever explain it to her? She bites her lip at the memory. No words exist to adequately describe that particular glimpse of h.e.l.l.

I think there's a slight chance that this thing could go away, Dom had said.

This thing could go away.

How would that help, exactly? It wouldn't take away the memories. It wouldn't change the truth.

Devon feels moisture slipping down her cheeks. She wipes it away.

When you commit a foul, you have to take the penalty. In the game of soccer, it's not an option. Sometimes it's a kick, and sometimes it's a red card, sending you off the field to sit the bench for the rest of the game.

Devon had earned the penalty against her.

She must face it.

"What's the matter, hon?" her mom says suddenly. "You're not crying?"

Devon opens her eyes. She looks at her mom's face. She looks at Dom's.

"Oh, she's just so happy." Her mom sniffles then, and smiles. "It's been such a good day. Those are joy tears."

"Devon?" Dom asks, her tone concerned. "Are you okay?"

"Actually, I think I am," Devon says. "Because I know what I want to do, Dom."

Dom narrows her eyes, asks warily, "What?"

"I-" Devon takes a breath. "I want to plead Guilty."

Dom studies Devon quietly. Then, "Devon, you're tired." She starts gathering her things. "We don't need to make the decision now. There's no hurry. We'll get you back to your unit, give you a couple of days to rest up. And talk about this later." She looks up from her briefcase, over at Devon. "I should've just waited to discuss all this-"

Devon shakes her head firmly no.

"Why, Devon?" Dom stops packing her briefcase, places her hands on her hips. "Why in the world would you want to plead Guilty at this point? We have a strong case here. Even if the suppression motion fails. They can't sentence you beyond the age of twenty-one, and I think I can certainly do better than that-"

Devon shakes her head again. "No. I want to plead Guilty, Dom."

"But, again. Why?" Dom squints at Devon. "Because you think you'll get less time? Is that it?"

Devon swallows. The words are right there, waiting for her lips to form them, her tongue to force them out.

"Because you think that you'll get out of detention quicker that way? What?"

"No, Dom," Devon says, louder. "I want to plead Guilty because . . . I am guilty."