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WASHINGTON D.C.—NATIONAL Mall
By one-thirty, Naim and Daniel walked down the National Mall under a bright sun. The sky was cloudless, the Washington Monument rising towards it like a missile being launched. Aside from the tourists and soccer players playing in the afternoon August air, they were just two men walking across the worn Mall grass.
“Daniel,” Naim’s voice was low serene. “Do you think I’m in over my head?” He hoped Daniel understood his question, because he’d hate to have to explain it at length. “I mean this is my first case and death is on the line.”
“Shh,” The fatherly old man clapped his hand on Naim’s back. “You’re a wise attorney. You’re searching legal strategies, and that’s what you have to begin with, before settling on one.” They continued walking, and he said, “Pull yourself together. We’re going to stroll into this courtroom, two strong and smart black men, who will sit in a federal court and defend a white man accused of murdering black politicians for their drug policies. Only in America, my friend.”
Approaching the train station, there was an obese man in shorts and a tank top, reading a Washington Post, sitting on a lawn chair. He had a two-liter Pepsi by his side; an ode to the obvious coronary days from being unearthed.
Before Naim and Daniel passed him, fatty waved the newspaper and aggressively cleared his throat, grabbing their attention.
“Well, if it isn’t the famous lawyer, Naim Butler,” the man said, setting the newspaper on a patch of dirt. “Look at you on your sartorial best. What is the Armani?”
“Excused me,” Naim said defensively, before Daniel put a hand up, preventing him from saying more.
“Here’s a caveat,” the man said, twisting the cap on his Pepsi. Huge hands titled the bottle to his lips, before taking several gulps.
“This ATM video the people claim to have used to target your client needs thorough scrutiny. You should get it. It may undermine their case.”
“And you know this how?” Daniel asked, staring at the man. “This is Washington, sir. Call it a gift and keep it moving,” the man replied, picking up the newspaper. “Ah, look, the DOW is up.”
Daniel looked down at his watch, and said, “Come on, Mr. Butler, we have a hearing to get to.” Before they entered the train station, he sent a text to Christina to begin drafting on a motion to have the government produce a copy of the ATM video.