Ritchie leaned back in his chair. At 1:00, the verdict had come in on the product liability case he'd taken to trial when the insurance company for the manufacturer of a defective toy refused to settle. The two million dollar verdict would leave his client – a ten-year-old and his family – with plenty of money left over after the medical bills for reconstructive surgery. More importantly, the product was off the shelves.

Ritchie's partners were already down at their favorite pub waiting to buy him a late lunch and a celebratory beer before he took the rest of the day off and slept for about fifteen hours.

It had been almost a month since he'd seen Maria or Joey. They hadn't shown up at St. Theresa's the Wednesday after the baseball game, and the next two weeks he'd been immersed in a trial that had consumed every minute in his day. He'd called her once – okay, twice –left a message explaining that he was underwater in a case for a few weeks, but asked her to give him a call back and just let him know how she and Joey were doing. She hadn't called.

He tried to convince himself it was just as well. He'd looked up the file on Tito Martinez. He honestly didn't remember much about the case. It had been about a year before he left the State Attorney's office to open this practice with Jonathon and Sam. There'd been a lot of aggressive gang activity at that time. And a series of drug and weapons busts where the police had recovered guns that were used in a drive-by shooting that had gotten a lot of notoriety when a nine-year-old girl was killed. Ritchie had been at the forefront of an initiative in the State Attorney's office to crack down on gang activity, particularly drug-related.

He'd prosecuted Tito Martinez along with a whole group of gang members who'd been rounded up in a drug operation. Five kilos of cocaine and a kilo of crystal meth had been confiscated and kept off the streets of Miami. The police had also seized unregistered firearms. He tried to picture Maria's brother specifically, but he drew a blank. There'd been so many of them back then, and Ritchie had been proud of his reputation as a prosecutor who didn't cut deals with drug dealers or gang members. He took most of those cases to trial instead of pleading them down, and had a solid track record for getting the maximum sentence imposed.

Joey had claimed his brother had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Ritchie doubted that was the case. You didn't just stumble into a gang house when a major drug and weapons deal was about to go down. Not and walk out alive.

That the kid had just turned 18 had been a tough break for him. But in Ritchie's experience, those kids were hardened long before 18, and he'd tried younger ones as adults and gotten convictions. Miami juries had been fed up with punks who tarnished their city's reputation, increasing the crime rate and driving down property values, screwing up urban renewal efforts and turning parts of the city into places the tourists were warned not to visit.

His jaw tensed as he thought about Joey. Shoplifting, vandalism, fighting at school. Maria had confided that much before she shut down at dinner. The kid was on a path that led right to where his brother was sitting. It wouldn't take much to straighten him out – that had been evident at the office when Ritchie had made it clear that mouthing off disrespectfully about his sister was out of line and wouldn't be tolerated.

He was basically a good kid, but he had lousy friends and too much time on his hands. He ought to be playing a sport, burning off some of that excess energy. A kid could learn a lot from being part of a team. Joey's excited interest at the baseball game made Ritchie think the kid would enjoy getting out there in the field with a bat and ball. No offense to the job Maria was doing, but the kid needed more people in his life he could look up to – someone other than a brother who was gang member serving time on drug and weapons charges. Kids that age were crying out for a role model. If an appropriate one wasn't available, they'd latch on to an inappropriate one.

The social services system wasn't set up to help kids like Joey and single parents like Maria who were just trying to make ends meet. Most of the so-called "early intervention" programs didn't kick in until it was already too late.

Not his problem, Ritchie thought as he headed out the door to have a celebratory drink with his partners. When his cell phone rang, he was pleasantly surprised at the name that popped up in the display. When he heard what she had to say, he decided the celebration would have to wait.

* * *

A sick fear was clawing at Maria, squeezing her lungs until she could barely take a breath. She hadn't been in a courtroom since the day of Tito's sentencing. No one had told her. She'd been off on a summer-long art program in Italy, paid for by the scholarship she'd won for the body of work she'd done in her high school AP art class. For Maria, it had been the opportunity of a lifetime. She'd had no clue that while she was studying the great works of art, strolling through museums, taking her sketch pad to charming little trattorias and the Trevi Fountain... her brother Tito had been sitting in a jail cell in Miami waiting to find out what sentence the judge would impose.

There was nothing you could do, her mother had told her when she returned from Italy to find out her brother had been arrested, and the trial she hadn't even known about was already over. How could I let you come home, spoil something you worked so hard for, when there was nothing you could do? She'd sent him postcards, Maria had thought bitterly. Bright shiny postcards from Rome and Florence and Venice. Dashed off with a cheerful note about all the wonders she was seeing. While what Tito was seeing was his future disappearing right before his eyes.

She hadn't been paying attention, not really, not for a long time. She'd been angry their last few years of high school when Tito withdrew, when he shut her out of his life. He'd hurt her, hurt the bond they'd had their whole lives, and she hadn't had a clue what to do about it.

She'd sat in a courtroom like this one. Sat and watched and listened when the Judge gave Tito the maximum sentence. Sat there frozen in disbelief and stunned horror as they led him away.

Helpless, helpless, helpless was how she'd felt that day and how she felt now, sitting in another courtroom, with a pale and terrified Joey at her side. It wasn't the same. Joey was thirteen. They weren't going to send him to prison, for heaven's sake. This was juvenile court. They'd said they found drugs in his locker. Joey swore he didn't do it, that he didn't know how they got there.

Tito had sworn he didn't know about the drugs, the guns, too, when he was arrested.

They wouldn't lock him up. But she was so afraid they might take him away from her. Think she was unfit to raise him, that he was out of control. Put him in some kind of juvenile detention center where he'd be exposed to the very sort of kids she'd been trying to keep him away from by moving out of the old neighborhood, starting a new life.

She sat in the back of the courtroom with Joey, waiting for their case to be called. She hadn't wanted to call Ritchie. Didn't want to go crawling back to him for help when she hadn't returned his calls, when she'd decided not to see him anymore. Hadn't wanted to call him and admit that maybe, just a little, he was right; maybe she couldn't handle Joey on her own, maybe she was kidding herself. But at the last minute, she'd called because Joey was more important than her pride. She didn't know if Ritchie knew anything about criminal law or juvenile law, or if he could even help, but she knew he went to court. His last message to her had been about some trial he was tied up in. When she called him, thank God, he'd picked up the phone and said he would come.

She looked back every time the courtroom doors opened, and she felt like the vise clamping her lungs loosened just a little when Ritchie walked through the door. She'd never seen him in a suit and tie before – looking like a lawyer – and something niggled in the back of her mind but was swept aside in the wave of relief that washed over her.

He motioned for them to step out into the hallway, holding the heavy courtroom door open for them. They walked down to a bench in the corner, and Ritchie sat directly facing Joey and looked him in the eyes.

"You tell me exactly what happened. That's the only way I can help you."

Joey's lower lip trembled, and Maria just wanted to pull him close and hug him and make all his troubles go away. But he wasn't a little boy anymore.

"I didn't do it!" Joey said, his eyes filling up and his voice cracking. "They found some joints and some other stuff in my locker, but they don't belong to me. I didn't put it there. Somebody else did."

"Somebody else put drugs in your locker at school."

"I swear, Ritchie."

He nodded. "I believe you."

Maria saw something change on Joey's face then, and she realized he hadn't expected anyone to believe him. She hadn't believed him herself.

"Seems to me," Ritchie said, "the only reason somebody would put drugs in your locker and tip off the school is because they wanted you to get in trouble. Serious trouble. Somebody has that kind of grudge against you, I figure you know who it is."

Joey looked down at his shoes. "I'm no rat."

"That's not going to work with me, kid." Ritchie's voice was calm, but the look in his eyes conveyed the kind of quiet strength that demanded respect and made you feel like he could see right through any evasion. Maria figured anybody would have a hard time lying to him, especially an already terrified thirteen-year-old boy.

She leaned forward, but Ritchie stopped her in her tracks with a look, said "I've got this," then turned back to Joey.

"Somebody sets you up like this and you think you're supposed to just take it and not say who it was? If you don't know what bullshit that is, then you're not as smart as I thought you were."

Ritchie just looked at him, steady, and waited, while Joey stared back, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

Maria thought Ritchie would lose his temper, raise his voice, or threaten Joey with the consequences if he didn't cooperate. But Ritchie didn't do any of those things. He just held Joey in that unwavering gaze while the seconds ticked by.

"Bobby Scranton and Jim Marcus," Joey blurted.

Ritchie nodded. "Now tell me why."

"Those were the guys I got into a fight with at school last month. When I got suspended?"

"Go on," Ritchie said.

"We all got suspended, and Bobby's dad was really pissed off. Bobby said he and Jim were going get me back for it."

"All right." Ritchie checked his watch. "We better get back in there."

Maria put her hand on his arm before they went back through the door. "Can you...Is it going to be okay?"

The look he gave her was equal parts compassion and exasperation.

"Just leave it to me, and don't worry." He paused. "But if anything like this ever happens again, don't wait until it's almost time for the hearing to call me."

He motioned for Maria and Joey to take a seat, put a hand on her shoulder briefly, then walked up toward the front of the courtroom where the lawyers were congregated, shaking hands and greeting people. It looked like he knew just about everybody, including the clerk who was sitting in the front beyond the little gate and past the lawyers' tables. It was puzzling. Marie wouldn't have thought Ritchie's work as a personal injury attorney would have brought him to the same place dealing with the same people who handled criminal matters involving juveniles.

She glanced over as two young women in suits, both with their arms laden with file folders, paused on their way up the aisle.

"Isn't that Ritchie Perez?" one woman asked the other.

"Who?"

"Oh yeah, it's him. He left the State Attorney's office what, six years ago? So that was before you got here."

"Thought so," the other woman said, "cause I'd have remembered a guy who looks like that. Yum."

The other woman laughed and waived at Ritchie when she caught his eye as he turned back from the clerk's desk.

"All rise!" the bailiff ordered, and Maria stood up, her eyes transfixed on Ritchie as he walked back toward the table where the attorneys sat. She'd seen him before. And it wasn't on a billboard or a late night TV commercial. Seven years ago, she'd seen him walk back across a courtroom facing exactly the same way. Looking exactly the same – polished, in his element, invincible.

When the Judge sat down at the bench and told everyone to be seated, Joey had to tug on her arm to get her attention. She sank slowly into her seat, but everything that happened next was a blur to her until Joey's case was called, and Ritchie motioned them forward.

It was over incredibly fast, and she couldn't even follow what was going on. Apparently, Ritchie had already worked something out with the Assistant State Attorney, and the Judge appeared to be going along with the recommendations. She tried to focus. The prosecutor was talking now.

" ...and after consultation with Mr. Perez, we're recommending that this matter be continued and, if the young man can stay out of trouble for the next six months, my office will drop any charges."

The Judge frowned at Joey and then addressed his comments to the prosecutor.

"This young man is thirteen years old, and in the past three months there have been incidents of shoplifting, vandalism, underage drinking, truancy, and now we have possession of a controlled substance and drug paraphernalia. It seems that at the very least, we need to have social services take a look at the home environment, and ordinarily I'd be inclined to order that he be placed in a juvenile detention facility pending further recommendations."

Maria couldn't breathe.

Ritchie stepped forward. "Your Honor, there are extenuating circumstances here that I've already discussed with the State Attorney's office, and my client is cooperating with the authorities in identifying the students who actually brought the drugs into the school." He paused a moment. "And I'm willing to make it my personal responsibility to make sure Joey Martinez stays completely out of trouble."

The Judge tapped his pen on the bench while Maria waited. Finally, he looked down at Joey sternly. "Young man, if I agree to this deal your attorney is proposing, I don't expect to see you back in this courtroom again."

"Yes, sir," Joey said. "I mean, no, sir, I won't be back here. Sir."

The judge looked at the file on his computer screen. "Parents deceased. Who is the legal guardian?"

Maria stepped forward and Ritchie said, "Your Honor, his sister, Maria Martinez."

She tried to look older, more responsible, someone who was capable of keeping a teenaged boy out of trouble.

"Ms. Martinez," the Judge said. "Do you consent to the conditions proposed by your brother's attorney and recommended by the State Attorney's office?"

"Yes, sir." She didn't care what the conditions were, didn't understand what exactly was going on, but if it kept Joey with her and out of the juvenile justice system, then whatever it was, she'd do it.

"Very, well." The Judge turned back to Ritchie. "Mr. Perez, against my better judgment, I'm going to continue this case. If Joey Martinez stays out of trouble – and I mean completely out of trouble – for six months, the case will be dismissed without any record of a juvenile charge for drug possession. But Mr. Perez, this young man is being released on your recommendation and under your supervision, and I am holding you personally accountable if he ends up in my courtroom again, is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Your Honor," Ritchie said.

"Fine," the judge said, nodding to the clerk and handing her some papers from the file. "Next case on the docket."

Maria let out the breath she had been holding and turned with Joey to walk back out of the courtroom behind the man the Judge had put in charge of making sure Joey stayed out of trouble.

The same man who was responsible for putting Tito in prison seven years ago. 

Author's Note:

Hmmm, looks like things are about to get pretty intense.  

Do you think Maria will tell Ritchie she just realized who he is?