Free Rage of Angels by Sidney Sheldon

see, Jennifer,” Father Ryan said. He sat down in the uncomfortable old wooden chair in front of Jennifer’s desk. “I have a friend who has a bit of a problem.”
    That was the way he always started out with Ken.
    “Yes, Father?”
    “She’s an elderly parishioner, and the poor dear’s having trouble getting her Social Security payments. She moved into my neighborhood a few months ago and some damned computer lost all her records, may it rust in hell.”
    “I see.”
    “I knew you would,” Father Ryan said, getting to his feet. “I’m afraid there won’t be any money in it for you.”
    Jennifer smiled. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll try to straighten things out.”
    She had thought it would be a simple matter, but it had taken her almost three days to get the computer reprogrammed.
    One morning a month later, Father Ryan walked into Jennifer’s office and said, “I hate to bother you, my dear, but I have a friend who has a bit of a problem. I’m afraid he has no—” He hesitated.
    “—Money,” Jennifer guessed.
    “Ah! That’s it. Exactly. But the poor fellow needs help badly.”
    “All right. Tell me about him.”
    “His name is Abraham. Abraham Wilson. He’s the son of one of my parishioners. Abraham is serving a life sentence in Sing Sing for killing a liquor store owner during a holdup.”
    “If he was convicted and is serving his sentence, I don’t see how I can help, Father.”
    Father Ryan looked at Jennifer and sighed. “That’s not his problem.”
    “It isn’t?”
    “No. A few weeks ago Abraham killed another man—a fellow prisoner named Raymond Thorpe. They’re going to try him for murder, and go for the death penalty.”
    Jennifer had read something about the case. “If I remember correctly, he beat the man to death.”
    “So they say.”
    Jennifer picked up a pad and a pen. “Do you know if there were any witnesses?”
    “I’m afraid so.”
    “How many?”
    “Oh, a hundred or so. It happened in the prison yard, you see.”
    “Terrific. What is it you want me to do?”
    Father Ryan said simply, “Help Abraham.”
    Jennifer put down her pen. “Father, it’s going to take your Boss to help him.” She sat back in her chair. “He’s going in with three strikes against him. He’s Black, he’s a convicted murderer, and he killed another man in front of a hundred witnesses. Assuming he did it, there just aren’t any grounds for defense. If another prisoner was threatening him, there were guards he could have asked to help him. Instead, he took the law into his own hands. There isn’t a jury in the world that wouldn’t convict him.”
    “He’s still a fellow human being. Would you just talk to him?”
    Jennifer sighed. “I’ll talk to him if you want me to, but I won’t make any commitment.”
    Father Ryan nodded. “I understand. It would probably mean a great deal of publicity.”
    They were both thinking the same thing. Abraham Wilson was not the only one who had strikes against him.
    Sing Sing Prison is situated at the town of Ossining, thirty miles upstate of Manhattan on the east bank of the HudsonRiver, overlooking the Tappan Zee and Haverstraw Bay.
    Jennifer went up by bus. She had telephoned the assistant warden and he had made arrangements for her to see Abraham Wilson, who was being held in solitary confinement.
    During the bus ride, Jennifer was filled with a sense of purpose she had not felt in a long time. She was on her way to Sing Sing to meet a possible client charged with murder. This was the kind of case she had studied for, prepared herself for. She felt like a lawyer for the first time in a year, and yet she knew she was being unrealistic. She was not on her way to see a client. She was on her way to tell a man she could not represent him. She could not afford to become involved in a highly publicized case that she had no chance of winning.
    Abraham Wilson would have to find someone else to defend him.
    A dilapidated taxi took Jennifer from