He got the case referred to him by a New York firm that sometimes deals with his when they need to work on interests that involve or take place in Washington State. This qualifies - dad knocks around his kid a little, kid gets fed up even though he could have moved out months ago if he'd get off his ass and find a job instead of complaining, dad is offering a very nice hourly rate. So far so good.
His coffee maker breaks. He has instant instead, but burns his hand when he drinks it. A car alarm within earshot seems to be going off every six minutes. His car starts fine, and then strands him in the middle of the highway. His cell dies halfway through the call to AAA, and he sits there waiting for them to find him based on which highway he's on without any further details. Eventually they do, he borrows the driver's cell to call a cab, the cab takes an hour to get there, the cabbie gets lost and still charges him for the full distance driven, and finally he's at the police station in Forks - a little nowhere town - to talk to his client, but not before he trips gracelessly over the threshold and nearly breaks his nose.
Ugh.
It had better be a very nice hourly rate.
"He starts fights at school like clockwork," is the first thing to come to mind. "Never goes to class, hasn't done any homework in years, his room is a sty, he can't keep his foul mouth shut at the dinner table..."
Paul privately decides he's going to need to do most of his work at jury selection time. "Anything he'd have a record for? Truancy, assault?"
"He nearly got arrested for prostitution in New York," Mr. Hammond admits grudgingly. "Didn't quite, though. I've spent a lot of effort over the years keeping him out of the hands of police, and this is how he repays me."
Paul's obviously assuming that she's on their side. Oh, Paul.
"My wife," he growls, "abandoned ship. I don't know that she'll have the stones to say a word against me, but she won't say one for me, that's for damn sure."
"Most of it," says Mr. Hammond. "Including what an incorrigible monster she gave birth to, but apparently that doesn't sway her any."
"None of that language at the trial," Paul remarks. "Okay. We'll hope she declines to testify. The prosecutor has your son, presumably - who else can they call that we need to prepare for?"
"My driver's probably seen a few things, but I don't know that they'll manage to squeeze any out of him."
"If they have to get him to admit he knows something first, I doubt they'll get that far. But who knows. If Judith can grow a spine at this late hour, maybe he can too."
"Mm. Well. Let's be honest, if your wife testifies - and possibly even if she doesn't - your odds are not good. How do you feel about plea bargaining?"
"You realize that if you have me turn down a plea bargain for you, and we lose, you're looking at five years - minimum - and that doesn't even begin to cover the reputational and other consequences."
"The reputational consequences have been and gone," he says. "What's a plea bargain going to get me?
"Sentence reduction. Possibly immediate parole, with or without damages awarded, with something like a restraining order preventing you from seeing your son, but no other restrictions."
"It would be better than jail. It's possible that I can get you acquitted altogether, but it's by no means guaranteed, Mr. Hammond."
"I'll call you later today, then, before the meeting where that would have to be handled. Is there anything else I should know before I find a computer store?"