Read Online Friendly Fire by John Gilstrap - Free Book Online Page A

look about them—a much lower number than it used to be, now that tattoo sleeves were no longer the markers solely of prisoners and gangbangers—but precious few had the look of innocence that this kid projected. He was terrified. And with good reason. Blood still seeped through the bandage on his cheek, and Culligan had seen raccoons with lighter coon’s eyes than Ethan.
    â€œI don’t belong here,” Ethan said after the introductions were finished. The guards had refused the attorney’s request to remove the shackles that held the kid’s hands to the chain around his waist.
    â€œYou killed a guy,” Culligan said. “He wasn’t shooting at you, and he wasn’t actually kidnapping you, your story notwithstanding.”
    â€œBut he—”
    Culligan silenced him with a raised hand. “Nope, not yet,” he said. “I’ve heard what you told the police when you were arrested. What part of ‘you have a right to remain silent’ and ‘anything you say can and will be used against you in court’ confused you?”
    â€œI needed to make them understand—”
    â€œNo, you didn’t.” Culligan wasn’t trying to be mean, but he needed to get his client to understand that admitting to a murder was not a trivial thing. “From this point forward, up until the day you step into a courtroom, everything that transpires will be driven by perceived facts. Right now, there’s a growing list of witnesses who saw you charge out of a coffee shop, tackle a guy who’s smaller than you, and then stab him about a million times. Are you following me so far?”
    Ethan’s head twitched a noncommittal yes.
    â€œI prefer verbal responses,” Culligan said.
    â€œYes, I’m following you.”
    â€œExcellent. Thanks to the legions of eyewitnesses, your confession doesn’t do as much harm as it otherwise might have. But quit telling yourself that you don’t belong in jail. For now, here’s exactly where you belong. What you need to consider—the thought that needs to consume your heart and soul—is whether you ought to die by lethal injection. Or worse, in my personal opinion, whether you deserve to spend the rest of your life in prison.”
    Ethan blanched—all but his eyes, which remained just as purple and bruised as they were before.
    Culligan pressed on. “From this point forward, you have no friends in this place—except for me and one other, but I’ll get to her in a minute. Say as little as you can to as few people as possible when you’re in here. There are some biker dudes in this place who could eat you whole in one bite and not even burp. You don’t talk to them because they’re sensitive to nuances that haven’t even occurred to you.”
    â€œI’ve been in jail before,” Ethan said somewhat defiantly.
    â€œHave you, now. And is that a point of pride? I’ve seen your jacket, Ethan, and no, you haven’t. The drunk tank ain’t what we in the business call real jail. You’re not getting out of here tomorrow, and you’re not getting out of here in a month. If everything goes right and with the gods smiling upon us, you might get out of here in twelve to fourteen months. That’s a long time to live with anybody, but when your roomies are mean sons of bitches who could kill you without breaking a sweat, the time gets particularly long.”
    Ethan’s jaw set as a swell of anger returned color to his face.
    â€œI’m not done yet,” Culligan said, sensing that the kid was about to say something. “That’s why you don’t talk to other inmates unless you have to. And in not talking to them, find a way to show respect. Don’t know what to tell you specifically on that one, but you’ll be happy if you figure it out. The other people you don’t talk to is anyone in a uniform. I’ll say it again.