Free Reprisal by Colin T. Nelson Page B

Gordon Smith.” He scowled. “And I don’t like these kinds of calls. Know what I’m talking about?”
    “I can guess.”
    “Zehra, you’re good, one of our best, but I’ll get to the fucking point. I don’t give a shit if you want off this case or not. You’re on it, you’re trying it, and you’ll do a good job. Got that?”
    “Bill, don’t you have any consideration for me? Just because I’m Muslim, doesn’t mean I’m the best for this case.”
    “Yes it does. With this kind of publicity and the press chewing on my ass every day, you’re exactly what I need for this case. If deflects all the racist and religious crap they always try to throw at us.” His heavy cheeks quivered with anger. “It’s window dressing, I know. But you’re gonna do it.”
    “So, you’re going to let an idiot like Gordon Smith tell you how to run your office?”
    “Of course not. I don’t give a rat’s ass about her.” He looked like he was lying.
    Zehra tried to remain calm. Her voice rose, “What the hell does that have to do with our mission to give the best possible defense to everyone? You don’t give a damn about that anymore,” she shouted.
    “Careful …”
    “Maybe you don’t remember that this bronco attacked me. I shouldn’t have to do this.” She thought about the email. “Then, I got this strange email.” She explained.
    “I don’t know. What can I do? Have IT track it down. In the meantime, be careful.”
    “So, I’m off the case?”
    “No.”
    “She stared at him. “I won’t forget this.”
    “You don’t finish this case, I’ll send you back to traffic court for the rest of your career.”
    “That’s bullshit.”
    Mao’s eyes glazed over and Zehra knew he was done with her.
    Ten minutes later, carrying a stack of files against her chest and lugging her heavy purse over her shoulder, Zehra struggled through the door into the courtroom. Jackie followed behind her.
    “Thanks for letting me come with you,” she told Zehra. She pushed her thick-framed glasses higher on her little nose.
    “Oh, you’ll have fun.” Zehra raised her eyebrows to send the real message.
    “How many cases have you got?”
    “Let’s see …” Zehra reached one of the low counsel tables in the middle of the courtroom and dropped her load. “Eleven for this morning. Not too bad.”
    Zehra felt the energy surge in the courtroom—people moving in all directions at once, the constant buzz of conversation, the public drifting in and out, and the clerk shouting out the names of cases to be heard by the judge.
    The only quiet bubble of space was directly before the judge where lawyers and their clients made their formal appearances.
    Most of the lawyers in the courtroom worked for the government, either assistant county attorneys or public defenders. A few private lawyers represented clients, but, in reality, most criminals were poor and had appointed counsel. Since public defenders worked the courtrooms every day of the week, they were some of the best lawyers in the county.
    When Jackie asked her about a career as a public defender, Zehra had told her not to expect big money. “Instead, you’ll get lots of freedom, responsibility, and an opportunity to have tough cases dumped on you at an early stage in your career. Dealing with the clients we represent is a tough part. And a lot of us stay because we believe it’s an important part of what we call justice.”
    “That’s what I want—the experience in the courtroom. It sounds like the most fun.” Jackie dropped her shoulders. “I’ve put everything on hold in my life for our case. My boyfriend, Josh, is so great. He just adores me and says whatever I need to do is cool with him.”
    “Hey, Zehra, I heard you got the El-Amin murder case,” a voice from behind them called.
    Zehra turned to see Charlie Pollard, the county attorney she’d worked with many years ago. He was a friend and had been a mentor to her over the years. She smiled and gave him a