That morning, as she walked to her office—counting her steps—she passed the office of Ryan Kent, the newbie from Georgetown, and heard him grunt out an anguished wail. She stopped, backed up, and peeked in.

“Everything all right?”

He waved Lila in and motioned for her to close the door.

“She’s pissed off again,” he said in a sharp but hushed tone. “I can’t do anything right.”

Lila considered herself lucky for having been assigned to Oscar. Although he didn’t let her appear in court, he never yelled. That couldn’t be said of Ryan’s supervisor, Andi Fitch. Lila had seen it firsthand, when Fitch had tasked Ryan with filing a pre-trial appeal and Ryan had applied the wrong rule for calculating the time. Andi had let him have it.

Even when she wasn’t angry, Andi was an intimidating woman: six feet tall, Black with short blond hair styled to give it sharp points. She had dark eyes that could cut glass and lips that seemed incapable of smiling. And although she hadn’t actually yelled at Ryan, her words had landed just as hard.

The confrontation took place outside of Ryan’s office and lasted all of three minutes, with Andi ordering Ryan to personally drive the notice of appeal to both the defense attorney’s office and the court of appeals in St. Paul. And if he failed to get the documents filed in time, he needn’t bother returning.

Just watching Andi take Ryan apart that day made Lila’s breath run shallow, and she was certain that had she been in Ryan’s shoes, she would have wilted under Andi’s disappointment. Maybe that was why Lila pitched in to help Ryan whenever she had the chance.

“What is it this time?” Lila asked.

“I gave her a complaint yesterday and she threw it back at me. Told me to try again.” Then, in a mocking tone, he added, “‘But do it right this time.’”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“I have no idea. She gives me no direction—nothing. It’s like she expects me to read her mind. All she said was ‘Make it so we can convict the son of a bitch.’” Ryan closed his eyes to calm down. “I passed up the feds to work here, and she treats me like an idiot. I can see why her last law clerk quit on her.”

“Last two,” Lila said.

“Well, I’m about to make it three in a row. I swear, I don’t need this drill sergeant bullshit.”

Lila settled into a chair across the desk from Ryan. “What’s the fact pattern?”

“Guy named Donald Gray got into an argument with his wife—they were parked outside of a convenience store. She tried to get out of the car, and he yanked her back in and hit her. Gave her a black eye.” Ryan handed a photograph to Lila. The woman facing the camera wore a scowl and had a darkened left eye.

“Any witnesses?” Lila asked.

“None. The surveillance tapes show a struggle of some kind, but it’s not clear.”