This Is for the Mara Salvatrucha by Samuel Logan

hooked up with Denis in Virginia. Veto was strong and confident, but so was Denis, and bonito too. He was good-looking and he gave Brenda all the attention and respect she was used to in the gang. During the weeks before their arrest, the two spent every day together. It was not long after Brenda’s arrival that they began dating.
    After her arrest and joint interview with Denis, Brenda was separated from her boyfriend, classified as a runaway, and placed in a holding pen at the Arlington County court. Before any papers could be filed or her parents contacted, the court required a lawyer, appointed by a judge, to act as Brenda’s advocate, or guardian ad litem, on behalf of the state.
    As Brenda awaited her fate, a judge began the process of deciding what to do with her. “Look out in the hall and tell me who’s there,” the judge told his deputy. After sticking his head out the door, the deputy quickly returned.
    “Hunter’s out there.”
    “Call him in,” the judge said, not even looking up from his papers.
    Brenda’s case was classified as a child in need of services, or CHINS. She ultimately was just another piece of paperwork, one step in a process repeated every day as the court’s bureaucracy ground out its daily tasks. But for Greg Hunter, a rookie lawyer, the day was anything but routine.
    Greg Hunter’s tendency toward proper manners might have classified him as a southern gentleman, but those manners were just a fine veneer covering an underlying fervor and competitiveness. Greg was driven and ambitious, and he had no problem stepping on people in his way. At six feet, six inches, and three hundred pounds, Greg was easily the biggest lawyer in the courtroom. His towering bulk and swagger clashed with a youthful face that masked a sharp intellect.
    Greg’s easygoing nature and appreciation of humor seemed to mix well enough with his profession, one that required a measured amount of levity to deal with courtroom politics and the grinding nature of bureaucracy. As a criminal defense lawyer, Greg dealt with some of the stupidest criminals in northern Virginia. “Evil is rare, but stupid is everyday,” he liked to joke.
    Because of his relatively minor position at the time, and his fateful location in the hall when the judge needed a lawyer, Greg was called upon to serve as Brenda’s guardian ad litem. For all legal purposes, he was to serve the court as a parental representative for Brenda until she was free of her legal entanglements and could be returned to her real parents. It was a relationship that eventually brought Greg in close contact with more evil than stupidity.
    Entering the chambers, Greg stood before the judge.
    “You’ve been appointed as the guardian for this young girl,” the judge said, indicating a stack of papers on this desk. “Here’s the file; go talk to her,” he told Greg in his authoritative, matter-of-fact tone.
    Quickly reviewing the case file as he walked to Brenda’s holding cell, Greg surmised it would be an easy case. She seemed just like a lot of the other runaways who came through the system. He quickly estimated investing about fifteen minutes in a conversation with the girl and then some paperwork. As he opened the door, he mentally calculated that within sixteen hours, maybe less, the case would be filed, and he’d bill the county for his time—easy money.
    He smiled as he sat down with Brenda and began to walk her through the details of her case.
    “Where are you from, Brenda?” Greg began. “And why did you run away?”
    Brenda quickly glossed over her story about running away from her uncle’s house in Texas. She told Greg as little as possible, hoping she wouldn’t be sent back to Texas, but not willing to give this lawyer anything. She certainly wasn’t going to tell him the truth about her family in California. It was the best possible place for her to go. She would be with her father, aunt and uncle, and cousins, but it was the last place she