"Mr. Cullen, you should just plead guilty. The evidence against you in insurmountable," my attorney, Peter O'Doyle said as he rifled through my huge file. "I do not feel comfortable..."
"I'm not paying you to feel comfortable," I snapped.
"You're not paying me at all, Mr. Cullen. I'm a public defender," he said dryly. "I drew the short straw when your case came into our office. Why won't you plead guilty?"
"Because, I'll look weak," I mumbled. I refused to look weak in front of my brother. He's finally grown into the man that he should have been and now, I'm the weaker Cullen. I'm the mistake.
"It takes a strong man to admit he's wrong, Mr. Cullen," Peter said quietly. "And believe me; you're very, very wrong. I mean, these charges: embezzlement, prostitution, illegal gambling, assault, attempted sexual assault, murder? Emmett, if you plead guilty the judge may give you leniency and you'll be in prison for the rest of your life. If you go through the charade of a trial, we're talking about the death penalty."
"I know," I said as I fiddled with my handcuffs.
"Anyhow, since you were once an attorney, you know what to expect in the courtroom. I don't have to go through that," Peter said. "The trial is starting at nine tomorrow morning. You will be staying here in the Cook County Jail, away from the other inmates. We do not want a repeat of your previous trial or you trying to put a hit onto your brother."
"I'm not that stupid, Peter," I growled. He looked at me, arching a brow. You put a bomb in a building that was destined for children. You killed your father. You are that stupid. "Never mind..."