Chapter 2: The Pro Bono Case

In the winter of 2015, our law firm took on a pro bono case, which had originally been assigned to a colleague.

It was the kind of case that made headlines in smaller towns—a high-profile, first-degree murder, filed way back in 2000. Back then, police forensics weren’t what they are now, and nobody had much luck chasing leads through the county grapevine. For more than a decade, the file gathered dust until, just last month, a new piece of evidence surfaced and the case finally broke wide open.

The evidence was overwhelming, the crime itself was particularly cruel, and though there was a confession, it came too late. There were no extenuating circumstances. By the time the case reached us, there was almost nothing left for a defense attorney to do—the trial was just a formality.

In the breakroom, over burnt coffee and stale donuts, my colleagues all agreed: this was a slam dunk for the prosecution. As far as the law firm was concerned, the train had already left the station—nobody expected a Hail Mary from the defense.

The first trial resulted in a death sentence. There was no appeal. Soon after, it entered the death penalty review phase.

The whole thing moved faster than most small-town trials. There was a sense of inevitability in the office, the kind that settles in when you know you’re just checking boxes on a doomed appeal.

The colleague in charge had to leave for an urgent business trip, so he handed the final work on the case to me.

It landed on my desk with a thud—just one more file in a week packed with depositions and client calls. I was barely keeping my head above water. Still, duty was duty, so I promised to get to it, though I hadn’t even opened the case files yet.

I was swamped with other matters, so I accepted the task but didn’t pay it much mind. I only got a verbal briefing and hadn’t even looked at the case files.

My mind was on a dozen other cases, and the details of this one blurred into the general background noise of my workload. It wasn’t until later that I’d regret not taking a closer look sooner.