“What’s his name then, Robbie? I want to know,” I winced. I tried to sit up straight again.
“Defender of All. Look at him. You couldn’t even see it. That’s me, Jack. That’s me in the picture. I’m the Defender of All. I was going to call him Death to All Lawyers, but I thought that might not go down well with the publishers.”
“Death to All Lawyers. Just like DiMarco’s website.”
“Jonathon DiMarco’s website?” He laughed. He moved around the sofa and came closer. “DiMarco is my puppet. I run the website, DiMarco provides the content. That’s my website. That’s my handy work. That’s what I do when I’m sitting in that security office—I make sure that website runs smoothly so that DiMarco can put his content up and influence the public. The people of America have to know how bad the system has become. They have the right to know how far the system has strayed from being fair.” Robbie walked to the end of the sofa, the handgun now focused on me, not even five feet away.
“All because of what happened with your stepdad when you were little, right? That’s what this is all about?”
Without warning, I felt the gun barrel crack down on the side of my head. I felt a blinding pain and doubled forward, scrambling to stop the world from blackening and spinning all at once.
Reaching up, I felt the warmth of blood in my hair. Out of the corner of my eye, next to my hip, I spotted a large piece of broken mug. I picked it up, covering it in my fist as I sat up slowly.
When I looked up, Robbie was in front of me again, sitting on the stained sofa. This time there was no panic in his eyes, just pure anger. He sat on the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, gripping the gun so tightly that I could see the veins in his hands.
“It’s time to shut up, Jack. Keep your mouth shut and stop making stupid decisions that are going to get you killed. You and I could work together. I could use your help. You and I are the same. We’re cut from the same cloth.”
“But my stepfather wasn’t a pedophile.”
Robbie’s face changed again, this time there was sadness and regret in his boyish eyes. He sighed. For the first time, I saw the gun sway.
“So, Anthony Waltz was to blame for your stepfather getting off?”
“Of course he was! Those selfish pricks ruined my life!” He stood. The anger had returned. “And they all had to pay. These lawyers think they’re God’s gift to the planet. They play with people’s lives every day. Guilty people should end up in prison. Guilty people shouldn’t have the chance to watch their kids grow up. The lawyers should be there to show the world the truth. But they don’t! They use the system to make money, and lots of it. Where’s the moral fiber? Where’s the sense of right and wrong?!”
“So, you think it’s your job to set the record straight?”
“Someone has to defend the vulnerable. All of them. Someone has to protect us against the vultures.” Robbie paced in front of the couch, then stopped to look at the picture on the wall again—the child, the vultures, and the defender—all playing their roles as Robbie felt they should. “This legal system, this system that we revere, is built on evidence. You need evidence to prove someone is guilty. And with most crimes, that works. But in cases of sexual assault, there rarely is solid evidence, unless you go to the police straight away. If you wait a week, if it takes you a month to gain the bravery to report it, then there’s no physical evidence. But does that mean the crime didn’t happen?” He looked at me. “I’m asking you, Jack. Does a lack of evidence in a sexual assault case mean the crime didn’t happen?”
“I don’t know the answer to that.”
“Of course you don’t! Nobody does. How can our legal system convict people of a crime where there is little evidence? I’ll tell you—it can’t. If you wait a week, a month, a year, to report it, the system fails. It becomes ‘he said, she said.’ One person’s word against another. Is that fair and just?” He continued to pace the room. “No! No, Jack, it’s not fair and just. Our system fails when it deals with sexual assault. It fails me, it fails you, and it fails all of us.”
“But people lie. If you just believe the accuser, you open everyone up to bribery. I could say anyone sexually assaulted me, and then take a pay-off to prevent the case going to court. How do you change that, Robbie?”
“What?” He turned sharply to look at me. “You don’t think I’ve thought about that? You don’t think I’ve tried to change the system? You don’t think that I’ve campaigned to force all sexual assault attackers to take a polygraph test? Because that would work. There’s your evidence. That’s what’s needed. It would no longer be on the word of a victim, it would be on the word of the attacker. Force them to take a lie detector test. The issue is easy to solve. But do the legislators want that? Of course not. The powerful want to protect each other. Just like Waltz, Hudson, and Fittler. They all had each other’s backs.”
He came back to the sofa and slumped down. I had to keep him talking.
“Did DiMarco know what you were doing?”
“DiMarco? No. He had no idea. And why would he? We’ve met a few times, but I’m just a security guard that supports his cause. He doesn’t even
