Chapter 1: Lawyers are Liars
Internet Source: Media
Guilty Guy Gets Charged
It’s almost been a year since the gun down of the Chamber brothers and only now can it truly be said that police are unraveling the truth behind their deaths.
Chris and Lee Chambers were notorious for their involvement with the ‘Dockies’, the gang who have been closely linked to the deaths of at least ten people although no charges have officially been laid. The ‘Dockies’ consisted of several more players and it seemed that there was much internal conflict with several disturbances occurring within the gang, brawls or otherwise.
The death of the Chambers seemed to only increase this tension with a number of its members landing in hospital for ‘minor’ cases of bashing to bullet wounds. Police have finally tracked down the man they think is responsible for the crime. At present, Guy Stevens, another member of the Dockies is a key suspect after DNA evidence linked him to the scene of the crime. He was charged today on two counts of first degree murder but he has pleaded ‘not guilty’ to the crime.
No one seemed surprised when Stevens chose Paul Slater to represent him in the court of law. Despite the fact that Mr. Slater has a little less than nine years of experience in the field of law, he seems to be a sought after especially in the cases of big shots who have the money and resources to fund his bill. He has been involved in many controversies choosing to “stick with the gray side of the law.” He has defended several counts of murders and murderers, which include names such as Carl Williams and Andrew Veniamin. He has developed quite a reputation outside the law as well, known widely for his wealth and good looks as he is for the countless women at his side.
There is much undisclosed information involved in the case of the double homicide. No witnesses and very little evidence had left the police without a trail to track the murderer. There are a series of questions surrounding this case which may work to Stevens’ advantage. The hearing is at the end of this month. It may grant Stevens the perfect Christmas gift.
The law has variations. It changes from case to case, from year to year. If you find precedent, the outcome is set. The law in truth does not provide justice; that is simply a myth that people developed to feel more secure. If anything the last ten years have thought me that.
A ‘good’ lawyer does not merely rely on facts and evidence, rather we create them. Half truths, manipulation are one among the many tactics we use in the court of law but of course no one breaths a word about it. After all, it is widely known that “lawyers are infact liars.”
Stevens is guilty. I know that, he knows that. Hell! I am willing to bet that even the judge is aware of that fact. Or so I think, as I stand here in Court defending Stevens. The great thing about defending criminals such as Stevens is that they are masterminds. They have countless guys who are willing to cover their backside. Not due to loyalty but because they feared these guys. Well, people like Stevens – they have power. Lots of it. It was therefore better to stay in their good books rather than the contrary. Not only that but they are clean cut. Even if the murder is gruesome, they get some one or the other to clean up and the evidence is left to a minimal.
As I expected the outcome is to our favour. The charges against Stevens are dropped and I couldn’t be happier. After working on this case for a gut wrenching ten months I needed a break from it. From all of it.
Most people say that I am living the dream. I guess that bears some semblance of truth. After all I did gain what I always wanted. Money, wealth, power, influence, women.
Everything I asked for, I got but the dream that I actually needed. Craved for? She got away.
Despite the thirteen years that have passed, my feelings for her have not really changed. I stay away from the brunettes, choosing to engage in ‘casual encounters’ only with blonds, who bear more similarities to Kelly Prescott than I would like.
I changed physically, choosing to spend more time at the gym than I used to, removing my frustration through the means of exercise. The clean shaved look that I sported as a teen? That too was replaced, in favour of a goatee. All for her. To remove the tainted influence she had on me. In a twisted way, it was funny; I was still living for her, despite the miles of distance I put between us.
I haven’t gone back. Not to Carmel. Not even to America in the thirteen years. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it. There is hardly a day that goes back when I don’t think of her. Or Carmel. Or even Settle, the home to my childhood. Not that it could really be called one.
Not like they really missed me. My parents, I mean. They are too busy with their own life to really care about mine. But at least my success gives them a pretty picture to paint for all their uptight friends. It was truly the only thing they cared about. Impressions and money and more money.
Even Jack had chosen to keep some distance. Not that I blame him. But what can I say?
The truth was Jack was a pure replica of Grand Pops. Deciding to confide that he had the ability to see dead people to anyone and everyone wasn’t the smartest of moves. I knew that, even at the age of a year and a bit when the discovery of my ability led me to realize that I was very special.
The thesis of Dr. Oliver Slaski which I discovered at the age of ten thought me many things and simply re-enforced that rule of secrecy which I had developed since I was a kid. My family had many secrets too. Not only about the true identity of my grandfather but deeper ones, darker ones.
My responsibility as their oldest son was to keep my mouth shut and project an image of the perfect kid. Smart; athletic; popular. Not that the third one really worked for me back in Settle. Being in a boy’s school and having a few of the guy’s girls on my trail wasn’t quite the easiest way to gain friendship. Nor was the fact that despite restricting my study of my potential as a shifter to after school hours, it still haunted me in the truest form, at least at the start of my teen years before I realized how to do away with it, and the perfect image that I had to portray. Yeah, that didn’t sit too well with them either.
It wasn’t worth the effort, to gain their approval, I realized, especially when I got what I needed. Girls were literally flocking at my sides and I chose and discarded after use. Not that it went well with their brothers but that was all I ever committee to.
I also began to realize something. Fear was a prized possession and for a person to be intimidated. Well, there needed to be a reflection physically of the element of threat hence I favoured leather jackets in place of hoodies. Brown and black over white and blue. The intense workout session and the six pack that I developed did not hinder, rather it worked to my favour. There were even more girls and very few guys decided to take up a one to one punching session with me, even if I did indeed ‘sleep’ with their girl
Carmel changed that. When my parents said that we were going to California for a holiday I couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm after all, we had traveled all over the world. Singapore, Canada, Egypt. You name it.
Their need for traveling was simply a symptom of this rich society crap that had been pushed down my throat since the day that I was born. It was what people among my parent’s social circle did. What they expected us to do. So we did it, to fulfill their expectations.
Little did I know or in fact, anticipate what was waiting for me in the little town of Carmel. Had I known maybe I wouldn’t have bother. Maybe things would have been different. Perhaps, but I’m probably deluding myself.
I remembered the first time I saw her. She was hot. Great rack, long wavy hair and smooth pale skin that glowed slightly with the offset of a tan. I remember thinking that she would be good for a little old holiday ride. I saw her as a sexual object and nothing more. Trying to win her over. Not that she succumbed to my advances. Maybe that was the reason for the obsession. The fact that she said ‘no’ when no one else did.
Of course once I started to get to know her better I was intrigued. By what she was, by who she was. Another shifter. I never really met any of those varieties and definitely not in the hot, female persuasion.
Slowly I realized that I was developing more than a crush - big time, and whatever it was, it was infecting me fast. Fast enough that I decided to move as close to her as possible. It was easy enough to say bye to Seattle and my parents. I may miss Jack a little, but not enough to make me want to forgo the new plan.
It didn’t quite work out to my favour. But then nothing really did. At least I got her on my bed. More than a few times but that was not enough. Especially when she pushed me away. Of course that is the sole reason I decided try my luck in Australia. Not that I would admit it to anyone.
There in lies my current predicament. Despite my success, my countless ‘friends’ I was lonely. These women were only really good for one thing and it was sufficient for now. It’s ironic, I guess. So many people would literally kill to be in my shoes but in many ways I just want to be ordinary.
Christmas was just around the corner and my plans? They were merely to go to some said party where I would hang out with a bunch of people I didn’t know. Get drunk and later on, get laid.
Sounds great? Well it truly wasn’t. After the first two years, it starts to get repetitive.
The screeching ring of my phone disturbed my thoughts. I debated as to whether I should simply let it ringing or pick it up. Knowing it would probably be Christina, or Louise, or some other bimbo. I chose the latter for some unknown reason, despite the fact that I didn’t recognize the international number.
I was surprised to hear the pitch perfect sound of my mother’s voice, muffled by sobs. I couldn’t quite grasp what she was saying but obviously it wasn’t the best of news and definitely something big, considering it’s been around six years since one of us even bothered with a birthday card.
“Mum?” I said, successfully managing a perfectly calm and chilled tone. It’s not like the bitch really cared
“Pa…Paul…Jack…he’s…look you got to come back here…it’…”
After all these years she calls and for a second there I though that maybe, just maybe she cared. Like that had ever been the case. I was so sick of her bullshit. Like I cared about what she had to say. In truth, I was cursing her. Actually about to let one out but I got hold of my tongue just in time. “What the…look you can’t dictate to me, okay? You can’t just tell me to come back coz you feel like a family get-together. I’m sure you’ll be able to sort out whatever it is. Look hate to cut to this phone call short but…”
“No, Paul…you don’t understand...”, more sniffles. “Jack...Jack’s dead. It was a car accident...” And more tears. I was stunned, surprised. Jack. Dead. My little bro. What would he be? About twenty four. No, that…
She had to be joking, just had to be, “Look whatever game you’re playing at…just stop it okay. Jack was completely…”
That statement seemed to upset her. Her tone was slightly raised, “Paul, I really don’t want to fight. The funeral is in two weeks. In Carmel. The Mission, where you used to go to school…Okay? I have send a formal invitation to your work address. Come if you want to. I’ve told you. Now I’m done.”
And with that she hung up the phone, leaving me to face the mess I left years ago. And many questions and well the only solution is to go back to Carmel.