Joshua Brooks passed through the security checkpoints at FMC Devens without incident. He carried with him an authorization that identified him as an attorney, and gave him authorization to consult with his client. His client was also named, and at each stage of the process, the guards raised their eyebrows and took a second look at Joshua’s face, the expressions registering combinations of shock and disgust. His briefcase was searched for any contraband, and he was given a thorough pat down to make sure he wasn’t carrying anything of use that could be passed to his client. Joshua wasn’t concerned. He had spent a lifetime representing some of the most violent and hated men on the planet, and it had made him wealthy beyond his dreams. This would be no different.

At the final checkpoint, they took everything he had other than a notebook and a pencil. They even had him take off his white-gold Piaget Polo-S watch and put it in a bag with the rest of his belongings. It was a fifteen-thousand-dollar timepiece that a grateful hedge-fund manager had given him after an acquittal.

“I can’t wear a watch?” Brooks asked the guard.

“Not with this guy,” the guard responded. “Nothing that can be passed to him.”

“What’s he gonna do with a watch?”

The guard shrugged. “You’re lucky you get to take in the pencil,” he said. “I’m gonna check to make sure you’ve still got it when you come out, too.”

“You’re afraid he’ll sketch his way out of here?”

“I got my orders.”

“OK,” Brooks said, turning and starting down the hallway to a lone steel door. Another guard accompanied him.

“We’ve got you on camera,” the guard said. “You stay on your side of the table. Don’t pass anything to him, and don’t allow him to pass anything to you.”

“The camera’s going to be on?” Brooks shook his head. “I’m his lawyer. My conversation with him is privileged.”

“The sound is turned off,” the guard said. Brooks looked skeptical. “We won’t hear anything,” the guard assured him.

“I want the camera off,” Brooks persisted.

“You can take that up with the warden,” the guard said. “Given this guy’s past, I think he’s not gonna agree. Right now, I got my orders.”

Brooks stared at the guard for a moment, and then decided to abandon the complaint for the moment. “Make sure the sound is off, and no recording is made,” he said. “Otherwise, I will take it up with the judge, and you will find yourself in a world of hurt.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Brooks knew what was coming. “Sure.”

“How can you represent this guy? With what he did, with who he is, how do you do it?”

“Everyone is entitled to a lawyer,” Brooks responded. “It’s one of the great things about this country.”