Free Act of God by Susan R. Sloan Page B

what I’m supposed to say,’ he said.
    “You can say anything you like,” she told him. “Nothing we discuss here ever leaves this room.” He didn’t respond. For some
     reason, she wasn’t sure he had even heard her. “It’s called attorney-client privilege, or client confidentiality,” she added.
    “I know what that is,” he said, and fell silent.
    “Maybe we should begin by getting to know a little about each other,” she suggested after a while.
    He sighed. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”
    “Well then, why don’t I start by telling you something about myself?” she offered.
    When he gave no reaction, she took it to mean assent. “On the personal side, I’m thirty-nine years old,” she began. “I’m married
     to the first violinist with the Seattle Symphony. And I have a nine-year-old daughter named Molly. On the professional side,
     I’ve been an attorney for fourteen years. I’ve worked at Cotter Boland and Grace for twelve of those years, and I’ve been
     a partner there for the past four. I think my firm is very good at what it does, but you don’t have to take my word for it,
     if you don’t want to. We have a long list of very satisfied clients who, I’m sure, would be more than willing to back up that
     statement.”
    “I believe you,” he said. “But you don’t understand—I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
    Dana frowned. “You’ve been informed of the charges against you, haven’t you?”
    He nodded. “I know what they told me, but I don’t know why they think I could have done such a horrible thing. Just because
     I’m in the Navy, that’s supposed to mean I’m the kind of person who goes around killing people? I don’t see how that follows,
     but that’s what they said.”
    “The police?”
    “Yes,” he said. “I’ve been trained to defend my country,sure, but that’s a lot different than being trained to kill. I’m not a violent man. I’m a man of peace. That’s why I’m in
     the Navy, to protect the peace. In any case, I know I’m a man of conscience. I could never go out and just kill a whole bunch
     of people like that. It goes against everything I believe in.”
    “What
do
you believe in, Mr. Latham?” Dana inquired, taking advantage of the opening.
    “Well, for one thing, I believe that life is sacred and precious,” he replied.
    “All life?”
    He looked at her as though perplexed by the question. “Yes, of course,” he said. “All life. How can you separate one kind
     from another?”
    A small stab of appreciation darted down Dana’s back. Without any prompting, he had given exactly the kind of answer that
     would play well with a jury—simple and forthright, and reeking of honesty. She felt tempted to believe him herself, and abruptly
     straightened up in her chair.
    “It seems to me the state is prepared to do just that, separate one kind from another,” she suggested. “As far as they’re
     concerned, abortion is legal—murder is not.”
    “I didn’t kill those people,” he said softly.
    “Whether you did or didn’t isn’t the issue right now,” she told him. “You’re being charged with the crime, and unless you
     enter a guilty plea and throw yourself on the mercy of the court, you’re going to stand trial. So, the question is, how do
     you want to proceed?”
    His eyes widened. “Are you recommending I plead guilty to something I didn’t do?”
    “No,” she said. “I’m obligated to present you with your options. If you lose at trial, you’ll almost certainly be facing the
     death penalty. If you plead now, I may be able to get the death penalty off the table.”
    “I want to be completely exonerated.”
    I’m not going to kid you, Mr. Latham,” Dana said. “This won’t be an easy case to win. At the very least, it’s got terrorist
     overtones written all over it. And we’ll have to deal with the high body count, including all those children. Emotions are
     running rampant. People want to