Reasonable Doubt
1106 Words
The first rule of practicing law is distance.
Emotional distance. Moral distance. The ability to look at a situation—no matter how messy—and dissect it with precision. Feelings complicate facts. Attraction clouds judgment. And standing three feet away from a man you might be professionally obligated to defend while still remembering the exact curve of his smile from yesterday was… problematic.
I inhaled slowly and turned back to Margaret.
“What kind of legal situation?” I asked.
Margaret’s mouth tightened. “Not here.”
Jayden rose from his chair, posture alert now, the easy confidence replaced by something sharper. Controlled. “We should talk,” he said quietly.
“I agree,” I replied, though my pulse disagreed violently.
Margaret gestured toward a side corridor. “Private room. Now.”
The four of us—Margaret, Jayden, his sister Elena, and me—moved away from the gala floor. The noise faded behind thick doors, replaced by a tense silence that pressed against my ears.
Margaret folded her arms. “An incident occurred last night.”
Jayden’s jaw flexed. “I didn’t do anything illegal.”
“That depends,” Margaret said evenly, “on how the situation is framed.”
I turned to her. “Details matter.”
“They always do,” she agreed. “According to a preliminary report, Mr. Cole was involved in an altercation outside a private club.”
My stomach dropped.
“Altercation?” I repeated.
“A physical confrontation,” Margaret clarified. “A man claims he was assaulted.”
Elena stiffened. “That’s ridiculous.”
Jayden said nothing.
I looked at him. “Did you touch him?”
His eyes met mine—steady, unflinching. “Yes.”
The room went still.
“But,” he continued, “he shoved my teammate first. Hard. I intervened.”
“How?” I asked.
“I pushed him away.”
“Once?” Margaret pressed.
Jayden exhaled slowly. “Twice.”
Elena shot him a look. “Jay—”
“He fell,” Jayden added. “Hit the ground. That’s it.”
I nodded, absorbing the information, already compartmentalizing. “Any witnesses?”
“Plenty,” Margaret said. “Phones were out. Video is circulating.”
My chest tightened.
“What’s the allegation?” I asked.
“Assault causing injury,” Margaret replied. “The man claims a fractured wrist.”
I closed my eyes briefly.
This was bad.
Not catastrophic—not yet—but bad enough. Hockey players lived under microscopes. Public perception mattered as much as evidence. And the narrative? A star athlete losing his temper was an easy sell.
I opened my eyes and met Jayden’s gaze again.
“Did you know the man?” I asked.
“No.”
“Provocation?”
“Yes.”
“Alcohol involved?”
“A drink,” he said carefully. “Not drunk.”
Margaret watched me. “Your assessment?”
I hesitated.
This was the moment. The line between professional and personal. Between the part of me that had laughed at his sarcasm and the attorney who lived by rules and restraint.
“I can’t assess anything,” I said, choosing my words with care, “until I know whether I’m formally assigned to represent him.”
Silence followed.
Margaret nodded once. “That’s fair.”
Elena looked relieved.
Jayden looked… disappointed.
That bothered me more than it should have.
---
An hour later, I sat alone in my office, the city lights bleeding through the windows. The gala felt like a lifetime ago. I’d excused myself on the grounds of needing to review documents, but the truth was simpler.
I needed space.
My phone buzzed.
**Maya:** *You disappeared. That’s never good.*
I stared at the message, then typed.
**Me:** *I might be assigned to defend a hockey player accused of assault.*
A pause.
**Maya:** *Is it the hot one?*
I closed my eyes.
**Me:** *Yes.*
Three dots. Gone. Three dots again.
**Maya:** *Oh no.*
“Exactly,” I murmured.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the ceiling.
I believed in justice. In due process. In the idea that everyone deserved competent representation. I’d defended people I didn’t like before—people whose choices I questioned, whose morals didn’t align with mine.
But this was different.
Because I liked him.
Or at least, I liked the version of him I’d seen. The one who smiled easily but listened carefully. The one who hadn’t tried to charm me when I pushed back.
That alone made him dangerous.
I stood and walked to the window, folding my arms.
Could I represent him fairly?
Could I separate the man from the case?
And more importantly—should I?
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown Number.
I hesitated before answering.
“Joan,” his voice said softly.
I stiffened. “How did you get this number?”
“Elena,” he admitted. “I asked.”
Of course he did.
“This isn’t appropriate,” I said.
“I know,” he replied. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry you’re caught in this.”
That surprised me.
“I didn’t ask for you to intervene,” I said carefully.
“I know,” he said again. “But I don’t want you thinking—” He paused. “I don’t hurt people.”
I believed him.
That was the problem.
“Jayden,” I said quietly, “if I’m assigned to your case, there are boundaries.”
“I figured.”
“No private calls.”
“Understood.”
“No personal conversations.”
A beat.
“…Understood.”
“And if I decide I can’t represent you, you’ll respect that.”
“I will,” he said without hesitation.
I exhaled. “Good.”
Silence stretched between us.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
I shouldn’t have said yes.
“Why do you look at me like you’re already arguing with yourself?”
The question hit closer than I liked.
“Because I am,” I said truthfully.
Another pause.
“I don’t want to be the reason you compromise who you are,” he said.
That nearly undid me.
“Goodnight, Jayden.”
“Goodnight, Joan.”
The call ended.
I lowered the phone slowly.
This wasn’t just a case.
It was a test.
Of my ethics. My discipline. My ability to uphold the law without letting desire tip the scales.
And tomorrow morning, when Margaret made her decision—
I’d have to decide whether walking away was the right thing…
Or the hardest thing I’d ever do.
- Writer
