While driving in to work, Diana Fernandez kept looking to the dark skies. The rain hadn’t yet hit, but it was definitely on its way. Dark thunderclouds were approaching from the south. It was a dramatic turnaround from the perfect weather they’d had just the day before. Soon, it would be raining the devil and pitchforks, as Floridians liked to say.
More than the weather, though, Diana was thinking about yesterday’s call that she’d received from Karina Boyko. The previous night she had kept recalling how troubled the young woman had sounded. Even now, Diana couldn’t stop ruminating. It’s not every day that someone tells you they’re a slave. The girl had brought out Diana’s maternal instincts. She wanted to try and help.
A quarter hour later, Diana walked into the office. Even though she was among the first to arrive at work, Diana wasn’t surprised to find Deke already at his desk.
He looked up from the paperwork he was reading, smiled, and offered a cheery “good morning.”
Anyone else would have thought all was fine. Diana could see the strain he was trying to hide.
“That bad?” she asked.
His sigh was answer enough. “I’m hoping it will just blow over, but yesterday Judge Irwin read me the riot act for my remarks to the media, saying they violated the State Bar of Georgia’s Rules of Professional Conduct. Irwin couldn’t argue the substance of what I had said, but that doesn’t matter. He warned me that I was facing disciplinary action, up to and including removing me from the case.”
“Is he serious?”
“I’m hoping he’ll reconsider and just give me a slap on the wrist, but I’m sure Nathan Bines is egging on his hard-line position, wanting nothing better than getting me removed.”
Bines, a renowned lawyer frequently seen on television commenting on legal matters, was heading up the Welcome Mat defense.
Deke said, “I’m hoping that by making a public apology to Judge Irwin, he’ll put this behind him. That’s what I’m working on now. Problem is, I hate capitulating, especially when I think the real judicial misconduct is Irwin’s gag order.”
“The sooner you get your request for forgiveness out of the way, the easier it will be.”
“I suppose. I’m just trying to come up with the best nonapology apology.”
“I’ve heard that’s now referred to as a fauxpology.”
“I like that,” Deke said.
“What do you have so far?”
“I’m not sure if I should start with, ‘To anyone who might have been offended,’ or go with the classic, ‘If my remarks were interpreted as being disrespectful.’”
“Each has its merits.”
“I’m looking more for demerits.”
Diana nodded in commiseration and said, “You can’t go wrong with, ‘I’m sorry if you feel that way.’”
“I’m considering, ‘I hope no one came away with the impression that I believed Judge Irwin’s gag order to be idiotic.’”
“Are you that intent on digging your own grave?”
“I’ll work on my fauxpology some more,” he promised.
“And run it by me first.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Diana stood there a moment longer than usual. She didn’t want to bother Deke, but felt the need to tell him about Karina’s call.
Deke responded to her hesitation. “Something else?”
It wouldn’t do to delay telling him about the call, Diana decided. “Yesterday a woman who identified herself as Karina called this office and asked to speak to you.”
* * *
The Welcome Mat team of lawyers and investigators were gathered in one of the upper floor conference rooms. The meeting space commanded one of the best views in Spanish Trace. Below them, the fury of the storm was on display. The driving winds were stirring up the waters in the Gulf of Mexico, turning the normally emerald expanse a brownish blue.
Deke spoke over the noise of the rain slapping the windows. “I know everyone here is busy, so let’s make this short. But before we get to the most recent developments in the Welcome Mat case, I wanted Diana to tell you about a call that came in yesterday.”
He acknowledged Diana with a nod, and she briefly recapped Karina’s call, including her detective work pointing to the fact that she was Ukrainian.
“My impression of Karina is that she’s young, probably no more than twenty-five. And it was clear from the tone of her voice that she was frightened and didn’t know what to do or where to turn. I just wish we’d had longer to talk, but she was pressed for time.”
Michael looked up from his note-taking. “She used the words strip trip?”
Nodding, Diana said, “As well as booze cruise.”
Carol asked, “When Karina told you that she was a slave, how convincing was she?”
“Not a moment of doubt crossed my mind.”
Diana’s involuntary shudder convinced the room. “This morning I’ve had a chance to review my notes. Unfortunately, between Karina’s switching from Ukrainian to English and back, some of what she said was lost in translation. What I can say with a certainty is that Karina asked that Deke and the firm represent her. In a broader context, she also wanted us to help her friend Nataliya, who she said went missing several months ago. Karina told me Nataliya was in her same straits.”
Deke spoke up: “She told Diana they were both slaves. I’ve gotten some pushback for using that word yesterday when I talked to the media, and I’m sure some of you don’t think it’s appropriate, but that’s how Karina described her situation. I’ll have more to say about that in a minute, but please continue, Diana.”
“Karina also said there was an American slave. That came up at the end of our conversation, and I didn’t have a chance to clarify what she was telling me because I was taking notes as fast as I could. I’m still trying to decipher what she said and what I wrote down.”
“Sometimes two heads are better than one,” Carol said. “Would you like my help?”
Diana enthusiastically nodded. “Maybe between the two of us we can code-break my hieroglyphics.”
Deke turned to Michael. “As everyone here knows, Michael is now on board with the Welcome Mat case. But based on what we just heard, are you ready to take on another case as well?”
The offer caught Michael off guard. “Do you mean Karina’s asking us for representation?”
“I mean Karina, Nataliya, and the unnamed American. Karina essentially requested we represent all those parties. That means in all likelihood you’d be heading up a civil suit.”
Michael’s big smile came with the words, “That sounds great.”
His enthusiasm didn’t go unnoticed by Deke. “Only an associate would be grateful for having his workload doubled. Any more questions or comments for Diana?”
Gina said, “It’s a good thing you took the call, Diana. You’re the only person in this room with any patience.”
There was laughter, but also a consensus of agreement seen in the nods.
“I haven’t been able to get her voice out of my head,” Diana said. “She was terrified. But she wasn’t going to be deterred from asking us for help.”
Jake said, “So, let’s help.”
Though Jake was supposed to be getting some much-earned R&R from his undercover work, he had insisted upon coming back to work early.
Deke said, “If we’re to help Karina, we’ll need to learn whatever we can about her circumstances. Karina was calling from the Emerald Hideaway, a resort hotel located in Destin. We need to do a reconnaissance of that property and make some discreet inquiries.”
Michael said, “Since I’ve been given her case, I’d like to volunteer for that assignment.”
Carol began shaking her head. “You were asked to represent her as a lawyer, not as an investigator.”
“I understand that, but before becoming a lawyer, I served in the military for the better part of ten years. While I certainly don’t have the expertise in law enforcement that you and your team have, I’ve been trained to read and react to my environments.”
Deke could tell from Carol’s expression that she was skeptical. She’d told him on numerous occasions that lawyers tended to think they were infallible, and that they invariably overestimated their abilities in arenas outside the law. That overconfidence, Deke feared, was part of his own character.
She asked, “What branch of service were you in, Michael, and what did you do?”
“Air Force, and PJ.”
That got a double take from Carol. “You were a pararescue specialist?”
Michael nodded.
Deke didn’t know what a PJ was, and doubted whether anyone else but Carol did. It was clear, though, that hearing about Michael’s background reassured her. “In that case, per Deke’s approval, I’m more than fine with your scouting the hotel.”
The two of them turned to Deke, who said, “Okay by me, but sooner is better than later.”
“I’ll be on the road at the conclusion of this meeting.”
A jagged flash of lightning filled the sky, illuminating those gathered in a lightboard effect, much like X-rays on display. A roar of thunder rattled the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“You might be looking at some washed-out roads,” Deke said.
“I drive a Jeep.”
Deke was glad to see the associate’s quiet confidence. He seemed to have put the Parakalo deposition behind him.
“As you know, Karina’s call was prompted by comments I made in Atlanta yesterday,” Deke said. “One of the takeaways from her conversation with Diana is that human trafficking is going on all over this country, including our own backyard. I know some of you in this firm expressed reservations about our taking on the Welcome Mat Hospitality case because you didn’t like the idea of having the firm’s name associated with sex trafficking. I can understand that. Few things are more sordid. But I think it’s important for us to be on the right side of this one.”
“Damn straight,” Gina said. “And if some partners in this firm can’t see beyond the end of their noses, screw ’em.”
“I applaud your passion, Gina, but I hope you never consider seeking employment in the diplomatic services.”
Laughter swept through the conference room.
“Still, I know our plaintiffs are greatly appreciative of Gina’s passion, which became apparent starting with Jane Doe number one.”
“I met with her two days after her escape,” Gina said.
She opened a folder and tossed its contents onto the middle of the conference table. The photos that spilled out showed a young Caucasian woman with bruises and cuts on her face, and especially her nose. Her low-cut top was remarkable not for its décolletage, but for all the bloodstains that had soaked into it. Gauging her age from the photos was difficult, mostly because of her beleaguered brown eyes, which looked so weary as to appear ancient. In them was the thousand-yard stare usually only seen in the gaze of soldiers who had witnessed too much death and destruction.
“Our Jane Doe was seventeen years old when these pictures were taken,” Gina said. “After she was beaten by a client, her handlers were distracted long enough for her to wander away from a truck stop south of Atlanta off of Interstate 75. She avoided being recaptured, and found her way to a church where she hid in the bushes. The next morning a parishioner discovered her and took the pictures you see in front of you. Jane Doe’s savior just happened to know a volunteer who worked at PEACE—an acronym for Prostitutes Escaping Adversity and Captive Environments. Through PEACE, Jane found a way out of sex trafficking, and out of slavery.
“Every Jane Doe has a different story. Our Jane was a runaway, and first trafficked as a fourteen-year-old. If that sounds young to you, it’s actually on the older side for a first-time victim of sex trafficking. And if you’re wondering how big the problem is, it’s estimated that every year at least a quarter of a million Americans under the age of eighteen are lured into the commercial sex trade. Our Jane grew up in poverty and came from an abusive household. Her uncle started molesting her when she was eight. All those factors made her easy pickings for the sex trafficker who recruited her when she was just off the bus. He pretended he cared for her, a lie she was desperate to believe.
“For almost three years she was forced to work night and day at truck stops and motels. Lots of people and businesses profited from her enforced slavery. Drugs you can only sell once. Our Jane had to submit to a dozen men a day, and more. I promised her that I would do my best to nail those who exploited her, and by god I’m going to.”
Gina reached for one of the pictures and held it up. “I know these pictures are difficult to look at, but to Jane they’re a record of the best day of her life. It’s the day she was finally free.”
The room was silent. Jane Doe number one now had a face, and a story. She was no longer just a name symbolizing anonymity.
Deke said, “That’s the story of our first plaintiff, but as you might imagine, we’re now representing dozens of Jane Does. The way I look at it, this could be our Spartacus moment.”
Deke took a read of the mostly blank faces. “Anyone familiar with that name?”
When no one answered, Jake said, “Didn’t he lead a slave uprising against Rome?”
“That’s right. A Rome which at the time had the most powerful government and army on the planet. Hollywood made a movie of Spartacus, with Kirk Douglas playing him. One of the great scenes of all time is when a defeated Spartacus tries to turn himself over to the enemy in the hope that the other slaves would be allowed to live. But his comrades refuse to let Spartacus die alone. One by one, they stand up and tell the Romans, ‘I am Spartacus.’”
Deke let those words sink in before adding, “That needs to be our message, and the message of our Jane Does. We have to stake out our position against this modern slave trade.”
“Damn right,” said Gina.
“I know enforcing the law shouldn’t fall to trial lawyers,” Deke said, “but I’m convinced that is where we now find ourselves, especially since it seems the government and law enforcement are asleep at the wheel.”
Deke’s gaze turned to Jake, and then to Carol. Her smile and nod encouraged him to keep talking. Time for my confession, he thought.
“There’ve been whispers here recently about the condition of my face, and how it looks even worse than usual. There’s a reason for that. I recently tangled with a human trafficker. My hope was to liberate a young woman named Lily Reyes. My connection with Lily is that I am her godfather, or at least that’s what I was supposed to be. Truth is, I failed miserably in that responsibility. While Carol’s team continues to track down Lily, I’m trying to find what atonement I can by doing whatever it takes in the Welcome Mat case to assist other women who have been trafficked.”
Deke shook his head and sighed. His goddaughter was still out there. He stopped talking and sat there, lost in thought. People stirred, unsure if the meeting was over. Deke knew he should say something, but the words wouldn’t come.
There was movement in the room, and someone cleared his throat. Deke looked up to see Michael standing up from his seat.
“I am Spartacus,” Michael said.
The unexpected words reverberated through the room. At another firm, with a different group of associates, Michael’s announcement might have been met with laughter, or even derision. But for those at the table, the rallying cry brought everyone to their feet.
One by one, each announced, “I am Spartacus.”
Deke swallowed hard, multiple times. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t feel like I deserved that, but . . . thank you.”
He found his smile again, and said, “I suppose I should mention that Spartacus and his slave rebellion were utterly crushed, and the Romans were anything but merciful. Crucified slaves lined the Appian Way for miles and miles. I can only hope the slave insurgence that we’re a part of has a much better outcome.”