The Murder Rule(10)

The next hour passed very quickly. The process was fascinating, though it was a little shocking, the degree to which students here were doing such pivotal work, making recommendations that could end an inmate’s hopes for freedom. But as Rachel worked through some examples, it became clear that many applications failed to fulfil the basic criteria. And as the afternoon wore on and Rachel insisted on explaining in laborious detail the logic of her analysis on her cases, Hannah began to question Rachel’s judgment. Some of the cases that Rachel had worked on seemed to be so lacking in any kind of potential that they surely weren’t worth the time she had given them. She wrote voluminous, repetitive notes on every application, regardless of their merits, and rejected al of them. When Rachel opened the sixth file, and launched into yet another detailed explanation as to how and why she had approached the file in a particular way, Hannah interrupted.

“Thank you so much, Rachel,” she said. “I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time this morning. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to give it a shot, and then I can put together some questions to ask you later.”

“Oh. Wel . Fine, if you’re sure,” Rachel said. She turned back to her own desk, clearly a little taken aback and not altogether happy about Hannah’s sudden bid for independence. But after a single reproachful glance, she took Hannah at her word and left her alone.

Thanks to Rachel’s careful instruction, Hannah found she could navigate the system easily. She waited until she was sure that Rachel was ful y engaged in her own work, and then she clicked through various options to see if there were restrictions on the files she could access. There weren’t. Once you were in the system you essential y had free rein. Okay. It was too soon to do any real digging. It was possible that her movements through the system could be flagged, and she didn’t want to set off any alarm bel s this soon. Right now, she needed to do something to get noticed for the right reasons. She couldn’t afford to be a Rachel Mears, languishing unseen off to the side. She needed to be right in the heart of the action.

She would start by checking out some case reviews prepared by other students. Hannah had a theory that the style and substance of the approach to reviewing inmate applications differed dramatical y depending on which student reviewed them. Some reviews, like Rachel’s, were verbose, going into unnecessary detail and circular arguments about why a file shouldn’t be carried forward. It struck Hannah as completely redundant, particularly in cases where it was clear, for example, that the inmate hadn’t claimed factual innocence in his previous defense. Many of the students wrote as if they were completing an assignment—reciting basic case law that would surely be known to the attorney they were briefing and including an irrelevant back story, as if to prove they had read the entire file.

Other reviews were much sparer, much more clearly written. The best of them had been written by someone cal ed Sean Warner.

There was a confidence about his writing that made it stand out.

Time went by quickly. Lunchtime came and went. Rachel asked if she would like to go to student services, eat together. Hannah demurred. She had brought a sandwich. The afternoon wore on.

Hannah worked her way through applications. If she wanted to be noticed, she had to do something worthy of attention, something that would make her stand out from the crowd. Her approach would be ruthless. She would seek out low-hanging fruit, those applications that clearly failed the base criteria and cul as many as possible. She was aiming for volume. From what she had seen, Rachel barely got through two applications a week. Hannah saw no reason why she couldn’t clear ten or more by the end of the day, if she put her mind to it. If an application backlog was an issue for the Project, she would be the most efficient backlog clearer Robert Parekh had ever seen.

And as she worked, she would keep an eye out for applications with real potential.

At one point late into the afternoon, Hannah looked up, blinking, from her screen. Rachel was staring at a smal group standing outside Parekh’s office—Robert Parekh himself, and three students.

A very pretty Hispanic girl wearing jeans and a black sweater that hugged her curves; a blond girl, expensively dressed but with a pinched look about her; and a tal boy with tousled dark brown hair, wearing a blue shirt with the sleeves rol ed up. They were deep in conversation with Parekh and after a moment or two they disappeared into his office and shut the door behind them. Rachel stared after them with a look of such naked longing and frustration that Hannah looked away fast.

“You asked about death row cases. We only have the Dandridge case right now, and only the A team wil get to work on it: Camila Martinez, Hazel El ison, and Sean Warner. As far as Parekh is concerned, they’re the best of us. Even though Hazel’s virtual y the only student who didn’t get a job offer after her summer internship, so what does that tel you?”

“I don’t know.” Hannah said it flatly. She didn’t have a job lined up, not yet. But then Maine Law wasn’t a top ten school . . . and she’d had other priorities.

Rachel shrugged and looked back down at her keyboard. “I’m just saying, maybe they aren’t the best. Maybe there are other reasons they’ve been selected.”

“Why do you think they were chosen?”

Rachel rol ed her eyes. “Wel , Camila’s Hispanic and he’s gay, obviously. It’s just tokenism. A diversity effort.”

Hannah took a breath. She didn’t want to make enemies this early. She didn’t want to make enemies at al . She couldn’t afford them. But Rachel was a pain in the ass. “I’ve read some of Sean Warner’s recommendations,” she said. “They’re sharp. He seems like a smart guy.”