My lawyer came today for his usual visit. And he had some news. Cassie's lawyers are asking for severance.
"They wanted a separate trial, but that's not going to happen. The state can't afford it. But they asked for severance of your defenses."
The walls of the where you meet your lawyer seemed to be flowing like they were made of thick hot syrup. My face burned.
"Why? What does that mean?"
"It means that you and Cassie will be tried at the same time, you will be in court together, but her lawyers want the defenses to be separate."
"I got that. What does that mean?"
"For instance, they can treat you as a hostile witness if you testify. Which remember I advise against."
Goff is a public defender, which in this town means: Bad Lawyer. He's balding and skinny and his Adam's apple pokes out of his neck in a way that makes me gag. I call him One-Way. One-Way because if you look at his profile, he's like a big arrow: his forehead slopes back, his nose sticks way out, and you can draw a straight diagonal line from the point of his nose to his collar. Bumping out of course over that huge Adam's apple. An arrow. An arrow pointing one-way to the electric chair. Or maybe it's the Needle, I don't know how they kill murderers in this state come to think of it. The first time I saw him I knew I was doomed. He was wearing a tweed jacket that seemed to be held together by grime. His shirt was frayed around the collar. In short, he was a loser, a guy that could remember just enough law in night school to get a degree and pass the bar, and then somehow blackmailed an uncle or an in-law into appointing him to the Public Defender's Office. No. Not an in-law. Goff couldn't be married.
So I asked One-Way, "What does severance of our defenses mean in this case? To us?"
Goff took out a dirty handkerchief and wiped his nose. "It means that she's going to blame it all on you."
I didn't really hear anything else after that.