My client swears he didn’t rape his own daughter. And yet, yesterday God told me I’d have probably three months, or thereabouts, on earth. That’s not enough time for a case I thought I was going to win. But He told me that if I was able to save my client’s soul, I’d have a chance at eternal life. This was not the plan. I still go to church every week. It doesn’t really mean much, but I do it just because I’ve always done it. Because it meant that Mom would be at peace, thinking that my life somehow was right-side up, even though it never has been. I only knew her up until my sophomore year of college. When my dad was found guilty of her murder instead of his best friend, that’s when I saw the word “justice” in my future. I tried becoming a detective, only to find out you actually had to be a police officer. So I went for law school, thinking that it would help me sort out people from their crimes. But it’s been a lot harder than that. Here I am, simply thinking that being a good person would be enough convincing. It’s not. My client…he’s always been short of temper, but friends say he would never do such a thing. But why “save his soul”? Why is that a condition for heaven, for me, all of a sudden? I mean, I’m glad I have a deadline, but…what if this case ends before that? I don’t have it figured out.