Play Dead

We arrive at the prison and go through the rather lengthy process of signing in and being searched. The reception area guards all know Karen; they greet each other easily and with smiles. She’s obviously been here a lot, and she brings an enthusiasm and energy that is much needed in here, and probably much appreciated as well.

We finally make it into the visitors’ room, which is like every visitors’ room in every prison movie ever made. We sit in chairs alongside other visitors, facing a glass barrier that looks into the prisoners’ side. Prisoners are brought in once their visitors are seated, and conversations take place through phones on the wall. In our case there’s only one phone on the visitor side, so we’ll have to take turns.

Richard comes out, and it’s no surprise that he looks considerably older than the pictures I have seen of him. They were taken five years ago, but those five years were spent in prison. Prison aging is at least two to one.

Richard brightens considerably when he sees Karen, then looks surprised when he realizes she is not alone. He picks up his phone and Karen does the same. I can’t hear Richard, but I can tell that he says how great it is to see her. Then he says, “Who’s that?” referring to me.

“His name is Andy Carpenter,” she says. “He’s a famous lawyer who’s going to help you.” It’s exactly what I didn’t want her to say, but I’m not calling the shots here.

In response to something Richard says that I can’t make out, Karen says, “I will, but I want to show you something first. Wait’ll you see this; you’re not going to believe it.”

She opens her purse and takes out the picture of Reggie, but for the moment holding it facedown so that he can’t see it. “Are you ready?” she asks.

He nods, and she holds the picture up to the window. “He’s alive,” she says. “I swear, he’s alive.”

You can fill an entire library with what I don’t know about human emotion, so I can’t begin to accurately read the look on Richard’s face. It seems to be some combination of pain and joy and hope and bewilderment that form the most amazingly intense expression I’ve ever seen on anyone.

Within five seconds Richard is crying, bawling unashamedly, and Karen joins in. Soon they’re both laughing and crying, and I feel like an intruder. Unfortunately, Karen hands the intruder the phone.

“Richard, I’m Andy Carpenter,” I say, not exactly the most enlightening thing I could have come up with. He wants to know what the hell is going on, and here I am telling him the one thing he already knows.

He composes himself and says, “Please tell me what this is all about.”

I nod. “I rescued a dog… the dog in this picture. Karen found out about it and came to see me. She said it’s Reggie… your dog.”

He closes his eyes for a moment and then nods. “It is; I’m sure of it.”

“Is there any way you can prove it?” I ask.

“To who?”

“To me, so that I can prove it to the authorities,” I say. “At this point I need to be completely positive.”

“And then what?” he asks.

“Then I’ll try and help you. If you want me to.”

“Can you bring Reggie here?”

I think about this for a few moments, though the possibility has occurred to me before. “I’m not sure if I could arrange it,” I say. “But even if I could, it would take a while.”

“Then how can I prove it to you?” he says, exasperation in his voice. “Karen knows him… She can tell you.”

I nod. “She has.”

“Wait a minute,” he says. “Let me talk to Karen for a second.”

I hand Karen the phone, and Richard talks to her briefly. Whatever he says is enough to make her light up. “I forgot about that! Will he do it for me?”

Richard answers her, nodding his head as he does so. She then hands the phone back to me, and Richard says, “Karen should be able to prove it. Then what happens?”

“Then you hire me, if that’s what you want. What about the lawyer who handled your trial-”

He interrupts. “Forget about him.”

“I read the transcript,” I say. “He did not do a bad job.”

He frowns. “I’m here, aren’t I?” It’s a point that’s hard to counter.

“Okay. After that, I come back here and interview you, and I learn everything about your case. Then we figure out how to proceed, if we proceed.”

“You think we have a chance?” he asks.

It’s important that I be straight with him. “Right now we have absolutely nothing. Zero. But if you’re innocent, then it means there’s something out there to be discovered. Which is what we have to do.”

“I’m innocent,” he says; then he smiles. “Everyone in here is.”

A sense of humor in his situation is a good sign, and he’s going to need it. I tell him that he’ll have to sign a retainer hiring me as his attorney, with the disclaimer that it could be a short-term hire, depending on what I find out.

“I don’t have much money to pay you,” he says.

“Let’s not focus on that now.”

“Karen got some money from the sale of the house. We never got the boat back, but the cabin is worth something, and-”

“We can worry about that some other time, or never,” I say, getting up to leave. “I’ll be back to talk to you soon.”

“The sooner the better.”