January sat in the interrogation room, having slept in a cell overnight. Basic necessities had been provided, but she longed to return to her space under the bridge or at least to her job. If only her parents were alive… she wouldn't be in such situation. They'd taught her early about the media's power and the country's corruption. A tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it quickly, hating vulnerability.
The door opened. Detective James entered with a man in a crisp suit. "This is your lawyer," James said, exiting.
"Mark Lake," the lawyer said, sitting across from her. He looked young, barely in his twenties.
"January," she replied coldly.
"January Jennice," he said. Her eyes widened.
"I never told you my surname—"
"I research my clients. You're innocent, but there's a problem."
"Thank God someone believes me! What problem?"
"This stays between us."
"Aren't they watching?" She nodded at the one-way glass.
"I disabled the feed. It's just us."
"Aren't you too young to handle this?"
"I'm 24 and the smartest lawyer I know. I've won 20 cases this year alone. And I'm doing this pro bono."
"So I'll be free?"
"You should've been released this morning. But someone higher up intervened."
"Higher than the police director?"
"Yes. This case… it's about your parents. Thomas and Mirabelle Jennice."
"I don't know those names," she lied, fists clenching under the table.
"You can't hide your identity. I see your parents in your face. You've done well covering your tracks, but the running ends here."
"What do you mean?" Her throat dried.
"All I'm saying is, you're going to prison. There's nothing anyone can do not even me. It's already decided. You'll have to accept your fate. The best I can do is reduce your sentence," Mark said.
"If you can't get me out, you're not as smart as you claimed," January snapped.
Mark stood abruptly. "Think that, do you? This information didn't come easy. Another lawyer would've lied and fed you false hope. I'm telling you the truth, and you spit it back? Fine. Face this alone."
"Wait—I'm sorry!" January blurted.
He sat again, sighing. "I'm trying to help, but you need to stay strong. If you end up in prison, I'll keep digging. I might even get you out early."
"How… how long?"** she asked, her voice trembling.
"I'm aiming for 2–3 years."
"2–3 years?!"
"Be grateful. They wanted 8–10."
"But I'm innocent!"
"Innocent doesn't matter here. It's about power. Connections," Mark said bitterly.
"This can't be happening… I've survived hell, but this?"
"Have faith. In God, and stay strong. Court's next." He checked his watch. "I've got to go."
"Thanks… for being honest," she muttered.
"Just fighting for a pretty innocent girl." He flashed a tired smile and left.
"Pretty." The word lingered, the first kindness she'd heard in eight years. "God, let this cup pass me by," she prayed silently.
Reality struck hard. The following days were a blur of exhausting court appearances. Mountains of fabricated evidence piled against January—so convincing, she marveled at how far these men would go. Witness after witness lied under oath, but Mark fought fiercely. Without him, she'd have been jailed instantly. He dragged the trial to two weeks, though she knew his hands were tied: shadowy higher-ups threatened him when he tried taking the case public.
On the final day, January stood as the judge delivered his verdict. "January Jennice, you are found guilty of drug possession and sentenced to three years' imprisonment."Her stomach dropped. "Court adjourned sine die."
"This is really happening," she thought.
Mark and Detective James approached as guards cuffed her. They requested privacy, and the officers stepped back.
"They cleared Ethan and threw me in prison. For nothing," she whispered, voice cracking.
"This isn't over. I'm still digging," Mark said.
"Thank you," she said, hugging him suddenly. He stiffened, then patted her back.
"Prison's no haven. Stand your ground," Detective James warned. She nodded, numb.
The guards pulled her away. She glanced back once, Mark's jaw clenched, James's frown deepening and then she faced forward.
Outside, Director William chatted with officers. She ignored him. The armored van, packed with soldiers, swallowed her whole as they shoved her inside. As it sped off, January stared at the bars. "Three years."
Mark watched the van disappear down the street, his jaw tight.
You're taking this hard," James said quietly.
"Her parents saved mine. I owe them." Mark's voice cracked. "This isn't how it should've ended."
"We'll fix it. Together."
"You'd help? I thought you were against her."
"She's innocent. Eight years on the streets, no family… I was wrong to judge her."
"I tried finding her years ago. She hid too well."
"But not well enough. They'd have come for her either way."
"Maybe. But we're digging now. Who's behind this? What do they want? How's it tied to her parents?"
"Agreed."
Mark climbed into his car, giving James a stiff nod before driving off.
James lingered, hands shoved in his pockets. The July air felt heavy as he glared at Director William who stood behind his car, smirking.
William leaned against his car, lighting a cigarette as James approached. "For the record, I had nothing to do with this."
"No one accused you," James said flatly. "But we can't just abandon her. She's innocent."
William exhaled smoke, his voice dropping. "This case? It's tied to forces neither of us can touch. Walk away, James. For your own good." He clapped James' shoulder, a hollow gesture, before sliding into his car.
James watched the taillights fade, fists clenched. "Why her?" The question hung in the air, unanswered.