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"Ms. Rico, it's not looking good. This case they're building is strong. Some of the people we have planted, confirmed they have hard physical proof, tying you to the murders. You're possibly gonna be looking at a death sentence." My lawyer said, as I sat back in the metal chair smoking a blunt.
Every time I raised it to my lips, the cold cuffs around my wrist clinked.
"What are you telling me for? Do I not pay you enough, to make shit like this go away?" I asked, staring him down, watching him pull at his tie, and swallow hard.
"Y-yes. Yes you do, but this time, it's different. This is all new evidence, and that prosecuting jackass isn't gonna stop. He wants your head. A lot of people do." He said, and I could feel the stress coming off of him in waves, but I didn't give a fuck.
He went to school for this shit, not me, so it's his problem.
"What's my wife been up too?" I asked, changing the subject.
"She's not returning anyone's phone calls. She sold your home, and is gone with the kids. But I do have a new address. She's in a small house, in Wisconsin." He said, pulling out a few pictures from a manila folder, making my face scrunch up.
"What the fuck is in Wisconsin?" I said, looking at the pictures of her.
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She's still so fucking beautiful.
I've been locked up for six years now, serving a 13 year sentence, and if my dumbass lawyer don't get me out of this building shit storm, I'm gonna be sitting behind bars for life.
Well, that's what they think.
I'm getting out, one way or another.
Since I've been locked up, Cerise has only been to see me twice.
