Nothing But the Truth by Carsen Taite Page A

roster of public defenders, the county judges had a list of attorneys who voluntarily agreed to take cases for much less than they could charge in their private practice. Brett was on the wheel, as it was called, as were most of her colleagues. Many of the most interesting felony cases had at their center defendants who couldn’t afford to hire what they not so affectionately called a free world lawyer.
    There were generally two reasons judges reached for a name on the wheel of court-appointed attorneys: the public defender’s caseload was too high or the public defender’s office had a conflict. Conflict was the reason Kenneth Phillips couldn’t get assistance from the PD’s office. Although Ross Edwards was currently represented by an attorney in private practice, his first counsel had been an attorney employed by the public defender’s office. Since all the attorneys employed by the PD’s office were technically part of the same firm, they couldn’t represent two defendants whose interests were opposed to each other. Kenneth’s confession was certainly in Ross Edwards’s best interests, but their prior representation of Edwards could come into conflict with Kenneth’s. It was too soon to tell and too much to risk.
    Judge Langston greeted the news that the PD’s office was conflicted out by pouring herself a second cup of tea. Once she prepared it to her satisfaction, she ventured a question that had obviously been nagging at her.
    “I assume you are talking to me because this case is pending in my court?”
    Brett nodded. She knew it wouldn’t take the judge long to sort through the possibilities of which pending case Brett’s not so hypothetical questions were about. At this point, she just wanted to get to the point. She wanted the judge to appoint someone to represent Kenneth. Then she could wash her hands of the affair. The young man and his confession would be in capable hands, and she could go back to her moneymaking health care fraud cases. The last thing she needed was to get bogged down in a capital murder case for a pittance of a fee.
    “Yes, Judge. I was hoping—“
    Judge Langston interrupted her. “Don’t tell me anything else about it. I trust your judgment that this individual of which you speak would qualify for appointed counsel. Just do whatever you need to do to provide quality representation and submit a bill when you’re done. Understood?”
    “Judge, I don’t think I was clear. I’m not trying to get appointed to the case. In fact, I’m not on the death penalty certified list anymore.”
    “Well, you used to be, right?”
    Brett nodded, but rushed to add, “I chose to take myself off the list. I didn’t come here bargaining for this case. I just want this person to have good legal representation at the earliest possible stage.”
    Brett had stopped taking capital cases when she came home one day to find that her last girlfriend, Stephanie, had quickly and quietly moved every one of her belongings out of the townhome they shared. Stephanie Whistler had a demanding job as a doctor at Parkland, the bustling Dallas county hospital. As busy as she was, Stephanie had been able to shed the emotional aspects of her caseload when she crossed the threshold of their cozy home. Brett, on the other hand, had scattered the detritus of her clients’ troubles throughout their house, and their desperation eclipsed her happiness. Brett often thought it ironic. They were both trying to save lives, but Brett’s methods were the death knell of her own relationship. With Stephanie’s departure, Brett swore off putting others’ lives before her own. Her oath was of little consequence. She hadn’t wanted for female company, but she hadn’t dated anyone she would consider cohabiting with either. It wasn’t long before she fell back into her old ways. She may not work on death penalty cases anymore, but she did throw herself completely into the cases she did work, cutting herself off from the