Trouble

Algebra was always easy and straightforward for me, even at the university level and it sure hasn't gotten any harder since then.

If it were geometry, I might have had some problems, but these questions weren't an issue for me.

I was jotting down the answers in peace and bliss when the classroom door opened.

In walked an older man in a dark suit, his hair thinning in a way that would look better if he were just bald, his face serious.

He was the principal.

"Is Jack Somnus present?" he asked firmly.

"Fuuuck…" Jacob muttered under his breath next to me.

I stood up. "Yes, Sir."

"Come with me," he ordered.

I went to pick up my backpack, but the principal stopped me. "You can leave your backpack; you won't be needing it."

I nodded silently and followed him out of the classroom as my classmates' gazes followed me out.

There were two gentlemen in blue uniforms waiting for me outside the classroom.

I was surprised that it escalated this quickly.

'Did Bob lie to his father, or are they just so confident that I won't fight for my rights?' I thought.

The principal moved to the side and said, "I've learned about what you did, Jack. You must understand that your actions could have serious consequences." He sighed deeply.

"We will ask you to follow us," one of the policemen said.

I nodded silently and was slowly escorted to a police car waiting outside. A few students were sitting on benches nearby, they looked at what was happening with astonished expressions.

Thankfully, the officers didn't use handcuffs on me.

They sat me at the back of the car and drove away in silence.

This was going to be a very long day.

…

It was just a ten-minute drive to the Northwood Police Station from downtown.

The building was a squat, brick structure with bars on the windows and a faded sign above the entrance. Inside, the air smelled faintly of disinfectant and coffee.

I was swiftly escorted to a decently kept room with plain, beige walls and a linoleum floor.

I was guided to a bench against the far wall, where I sat down.

Seated next to me was a woman in her late thirties, who looked rather disheveled. Her hair was messy, and her clothes were wrinkled. Her hands were cuffed in front of her.

"What happened to you?" she asked.

"I got arrested for dancing in a fountain."

"Really?"

"Nope."

Our conversation stopped abruptly as an officer came and led her away.

A few minutes later, a female cop came for me.

She led me through the hallway into what looked like an interrogation room. I wasn't sure, as I was never actually a suspect in any crime.

Although there were many that I committed,.

There was a metal table bolted to the floor, surrounded by four metal chairs, also firmly attached. A mirror ran along one side, likely one-way glass. The walls were painted a pale blue, giving the room a cold, clinical feel.

The policewoman motioned towards one of the chairs. "Please, take a seat," she said calmly.

She maintained eye contact. "Alright, let's take this one step at a time. Can you tell me your name?"

"Jack."

"Hi Jack, I'm Officer Carter." she said with a friendly smile. "Do you need to call someone? Maybe your parents?"

I fidgeted uncomfortably in the cold metal chair. "No."

"Is there anyone else you'd like to call?"

"No," I replied firmly.

The policewoman took a seat across from me. She was rather plain-looking, with limp brown hair and dark eyes, but she was athletically slim and easy on the eye.

She straightened her posture and cleared her throat. "I am required to inform you that an accusation of assault has been made against you by the opposing party. They have proposed a resolution involving financial compensation."

"I have a few questions for you," she continued calmly.

"Excuse me," I interjected respectfully, "but discussing this matter further without legal counsel present could compromise my rights. Therefore, I wish to exercise my Miranda Rights and remain silent until I have an attorney present."

Her face flickered with surprise for a moment.

"I'm sorry. I seemed to have made a mistake. You have the right to remain silent and request an attorney. Are you requesting a public defender?"

"That's right."

"This might take a few hours. I will ask you to wait in the hall," she informed me.

A minute later, I found myself back outside the interrogation room

30 minutes later, a short man dressed in a gray suit with gray hair and a red face appeared at the police station.

After talking with the police, the man came up to me, "I'm Nicholas Reynolds. I'm a lawyer." He held his hand out to me.

"Good afternoon. I'm Jack Somnus." I shook his hand firmly.

"Alright, Jack, want to tell me what you're doing here?"

"Yes, sir, I would very much like to do that. But could we get a room?"

"Give me a second," Mr. Reynolds said and he walked away to the desks of the policemen.

Eventually, my appointed lawyer, Mr. Reynolds, secured us a private room.

We sat down, and we were given some time before the detective would arrive for questioning.

I proceeded to tell him everything, about how Bob Finch had decided to gang up on me at the school gate. About how I have been provoked and attacked.

Then I described the fight.

Mr. Reynolds was listening attentively.

"Bob most likely has a busted nose; other than that, he is heavily bruised up, and he will probably stay in the hospital for a few days."

"Have you shared this with the police?" Mr. Reynolds asked.

"No. I didn't want to talk to them without a lawyer."

Reynolds cocked his head in his chair and studied me. "Alright, let me be clear. Are you certain this is the whole truth? Will the witnesses back you up?"

I met his gaze steadily. "There's even a camera that recorded all of it."

He seemed surprised at that, raising an eyebrow.

Then he smiled. "You're an interesting guy… Alright, I will be happy to be your attorney."

He stood up, walked out of the room and came back just a minute later.

He sat back down at the table. "Okay, a detective will be here soon. Tell him everything you just told me. They should get witness statements and prove that you acted in self-defense. There is no reason why this case shouldn't end there."

"Mister Reynold… You misunderstood me. I have no intention of ending it here. I'm the victim. It was Bob Finch who attacked me."

He paused for a second. "What do you intend to do then?"

I tapped my fingers on the metal table.

"I intend to file a counterclaim."

I looked at the lawyer like I meant business.

Mr. Reynold glared at me for a while before nodding in understanding. "Let's talk to the detective first."

I leaned in slightly, my voice steady." Mr. Reynolds, I know how unrewarding it can be to be a public defender. We could draft an attorney contract if you help me file that counterclaim and represent me in case this goes to court, though it will never go that far."

I knew my own limits. I realized that I might need the help of someone with experience; I was a market analyst, not a lawyer.