Law of the Phoenix

By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. Dark green had been transformed to bright orange. The sunlight enhanced its iridescence, creating the sparkle that flickered in tandem with the wind. I closed my eyes and inhaled. This was freedom.

    “Don’t hope to see you back anytime soon,” said the man behind me.

    A short, reluctant chuckle burst from my lips. “Same,” I replied.

 At that moment, a black Honda pulled into the gates and stopped just inside. I strode towards it, refusing to look behind me. I stopped at the front passenger door, glancing inside to see a familiar face.

    The door was pushed open for me and my brother, Jermaine said, “You don’t seem eager to leave Aidan.”

    Another reluctant smile broke across my face and I sat, still looking at him. He had become fit and his tight clothes showed off his physique. He had let a short stubble grow out on his face and his hair had grown long enough to put into a ponytail. Other than his dark skin, it seems we no longer shared any features. My hair was cut short, almost bald. My beard was thick, but tamed and although my muscles were evident, they did not convince anyone that I was committed to the gym. Then of course, there were the tattoos. He was a tattoo artist so he was covered in them, with sleeves on both arms. Meanwhile, I had none.

    “It’s good to see you,” I said.

    “Forget that, what do you want to do?”

    “Well, I haven’t had a good pizza in a while.”

   “I know a place,” Jermaine said, and 20 minutes later they were waiting for their pizza.

    “That woman has been staring at us since we got here,” I said while slightly nodding my head towards the booth on our right.

    “Well bro, you’re slightly famous aren’t you?”

    “Not for many reasons I like.”

    “We can always use my Odyssey as a getaway car.”

    “That’s not funny Jermaine.”

    “Sorry, sorry. Any luck with jobs?”

    “Nope. I asked my professor to look into something for me, but people are afraid of my background.”

    The woman next to us stood up and walked towards the counter. Audibly heated whispers were exchanged and then she turned back towards us.

    “Sir, I’m not comfortable with you being here,” she said.

    I remained silent. I had expected an exchange like this, but not so soon.

    “Ma’am, we’re just here for pizza like everyone else,“ Jermaine replied.

    “Maybe you could wait outside,” she retorted.

    “You cannot be serious.” Jermaine stood to confront her but I rose as well and held his shoulder.

    “It’s okay, I’ll wait outside.”

    He clenched his fists, turning to face me. “It’s not okay, you—”

    I cut him off. “It’s fine Jermaine, you wait for it, we can eat in the car.”

    I bit into the copious blend of meats, mushrooms and vegetables, chewing slowly to savour each excreted flavour.

    “How did you stay so calm in there?” Jermaine asked.

    I swallowed a mouthful and replied, “Bro, I’ve felt like my life was falling apart for 13 years. I was dejected, depressed, angry. Now I’m here. Here eating pizza with you.” I paused for another bite then continued, “That woman was annoying but I’ve been through worse.”

    “I hear you man, but I’m tired.”

    “I know dude, same. But she wasn't worth the energy.”

    I spent the next couple months trying to find a job. Fall had begun to transition to winter. The landscape had become less colourful. Heaps of leaves settled at the roots of trees. Grey clouds became abundant overhead and it seemed like all the life was being sucked away from the world. I remembered the forest of fiery leaves. They were like that every year. It was always a beautiful sight until they fell. Then it was like ashes. They became dark brown as if they had been burnt and lay like a bed of coals in the forest. Against the background of bare trunks it was almost mesmerizing—but I didn’t miss the view. I didn’t miss that place. I didn’t want to ever see it again.

    I was waiting to be called into a meeting. This was the first inkling of a chance that I had received. I became aware of how tightly I was clasping my hands together under my chin and straightened slightly, lowering my palms to my lap as I took a deep breath, then exhaled sharply.

    “Aidan Williams,” called the voice of the receptionist. 

    I stood deliberately, attempting not to knock my chair over and moved towards the door. I fiddled with it for a second, realizing I was attempting to open it the wrong way and then pushed it open.

    “Good day,” said the woman standing across from me, “take a seat.”

    She was well dressed. A white blouse was complimented by her grey pants suit. Her hair was tied into a neat bun and her cocoa skin seemed to radiate light. Most notable though were her unwavering dark almond eyes.

    I smiled wryly, feeling slightly intimidated and replied, “Good day.”

    “Aidan Williams right?”

    “Correct.”

  “Convicted for aggravated robbery with a dangerous weapon 13 years ago. Your sentence was shortened because of your good behaviour. And of course, the story of your successful pursuit of a Law degree in prison is well-known.”

    Her eyes continued to pierce me and I opened my mouth to respond, but I couldn’t conjure the right words. That’s when she smiled and sat across from me.

    “Mr. Williams, the man who helped you get your degree is a great friend of mine. I understand that he hasn’t offered you a position himself because of the backlash his firm has received for aiding your studies.”

    “Yes,” I responded, “it damaged their image. They can’t afford any more public scrutiny.”

    I realized once again how tightly my hands were clasped in my lap.

    “Well, I don’t particularly care about public scrutiny,” she replied.

 I nodded. My throat was tightening and I was hesitant to speak.

    “Mr. Williams, I have extreme confidence in Wendell, and he believed in you enough to risk the image of his firm. I’ve been told a lot about you and I am willing to offer you a tentative role as an assistant to one of my senior lawyers.”

  My body tensed. I had felt the words coming but actually hearing them were a shock.

   “Yes, I would love that. Yes.”

    Jermaine put an arm around me as I told him what had happened.

    “You know what this means,” he said, “we have to celebrate.”

    “It’s only a tentative role,” I said, “like a trial.”

  “That’s progress! You’ve got a trial to do some trials. You’re gonna kill it!” The enthusiasm in his voice was contagious and I smiled. “How about a tattoo?” he continued.

    I tried to raise an eyebrow at him but failed to keep the second one still for the effect I wanted.

    “A tattoo? Are you crazy?”

    “Just a little,” he smirked. “I think a phoenix right across your back would look good. And it would be hidden when you’re doing your lawyer thing.”

  “And why a phoenix?” I asked with a broad smile on my face. I was enjoying his sudden exuberance.

  “They’re pretty cool. They do this cycle of rebirth where one dies in flames and a new one is born from the ashes. Kind of symbolic for a triumphant new life born from destruction you know. I’ve done a couple for clients before.”

    My smile faded a bit, “I’m really not a tattoo type of guy.”

   “Come on,” his voice raised an octave as he pleaded, “you’re a new person with a new life.”

    I hated to spoil the happy moment between us and I found myself agreeing. “Fine,” I said.

    “Yes!” he shouted while pumping a fist.

    “One condition though, I’ll only get it if my trial is successful. No use getting it and then I fail.”

    “That’s fine with me,” he responded while still beaming and laying a heavy hand on my shoulder.

    I was sitting at a desk across from the lawyer I had been appointed to assist. I had finished reviewing the files for his current case and I felt a dread sense of familiarity.

  “The evidence against him is minimal at best, non-existent at worst. It just seems like an accusation because he’s black.”

   “Why would you say that?” he asked.

   I became aware that the man across from me may not understand the struggles of someone like myself.

  “It’s…”

  “It’s what?” he asked.

  “It’s just like my case.”

  “So you’re saying you were innocent.”

  I inhaled sharply and let my breath out slowly. “Yes.”

  “Well, perhaps we should look into this case a bit more. After all, you can give me a different perspective.”

   I let out another breath, relieved that my concern had been acknowledged and I nodded.

   He continued, “I have a feeling that you were paired with me because of the case that I’m handling. Nia is sharp, that’s why she runs the firm. Let’s discuss it further.”

  People often speak of surreal experiences. I have had a few. Being imprisoned wrongly at the age of 20 was the first for me. I had felt like the rest of my life was ruined. I had a 22 year sentence which was eventually reduced over time. The second was earning my degree in prison. It was a difficult, complicated process but I finished it during my 11^th year and I felt hope again. The third was my release after 13 years. Leaving the Orange Grove Prison and looking at those trees for the last time. Now, here I was sitting in a courtroom, helping to represent the case of a potentially innocent man like I had been. The senior lawyer, Arthur, stood up and began to speak.

   “Your Honour, it is a pleasure for me to represent this young man. I must say that he is quite the family person, and on the day in question he was simply seeking to buy a few items for his children. He was treated like he was guilty of a crime as soon as he entered the store, as video evidence will show you. The security officers did not seem comfortable with his presence. Is it because he’s black?”

  “That’s a completely ignorant and racist claim!” the opposing lawyer interjected.

  “Order,” said the Judge, “you shall have your chance to speak. The defence may continue.”

   “There is racism here indeed,” Arthur continued, “but it is not from myself. It’s from the employees of the store. My client was simply looking to buy a laptop and a new phone. Did they think he did not belong in a store like theirs? Did they think he could not afford it?”

  The scene began to blur as I remembered how I felt when I was the one being accused. I leaned over towards the man and whispered, “It’s going to be okay.”

   He turned his face away from me and didn’t respond but I understood the action. I couldn’t guarantee my words. As far as he was concerned I had just made an empty statement. I was aware that his initial hearing did not go well. However, we had been able to gather more evidence that the reported crime was only a wild and baseless suspicion that resulted in the accusation.

   I never spoke in the trial. That was Arthur’s job. But I knew what I had told him, and I knew my words had been heeded. The proceedings seemed to go by in a daze and before I knew it, they were ready to make the ruling. A member of the jury stood to convey the man’s fate and my chest tensed as I held my breath. I had a brief flashback to my own ruling and quickly pushed the thought out of my mind as the woman began to speak.

   “We the jury, find the defendant not guilty.”