Legal Aid, pt. 1

Posted on Tue Jun 3rd, 2025 @ 10:31 by Claire Cavendish & Sarah Bright

Chapter: Besieged
Location: G.O.U. wing, Porterfield Prison, Inverness
2765 words - 5.5 OF Standard Post Measure

The cell they were keeping Claire in was small, and there was definitely heightened security around her location. But it was clear they didn't understand her abilities, not fully at least. Claire had a clear line of sight of the yard, and if she stretched herself out she could probably get a glance of the entry gates. She scratched at the device around her neck. They had told her it was a tracker but it made her feel slightly queasy. There was a buzzing emanating from it and despite never being in complete darkness she felt there might be something wrong with her eyesight.

The heavy mechanical lock on the door echoed through the hallway, rousing Claire from her ruminations. The door cracked open and then was arduously fully opened. "Your solicitor is here to see you." The guard stepped back into the hallway, allowing her room to step out of the room. Claire was a bit slow to get out, wondering who could've come here and announced themselves as her solicitor. None of the contacts she had had been overly eager to represent her in this case. It would surely be sensationalised, and the chances of winning against all of the charges they had levied were slim to none.

There was a woman standing in the hallway ahead, holding a briefcase and seemingly waiting for them. In a word she was best described as nondescript--her physical features were perfectly average in nearly every measurable way, and Claire's eyes probably would've slid over them without a second thought or glance, were it not for her present circumstances. That, and the professionally-tailored skirt suit the woman wore that contrasted sharply with her otherwise ordinary appearance. At first glance her expression was calm and difficult to read, but as Claire approached and the woman got a good look at her, there was a flash of anger. Teeth bared, she turned to the guard and immediately lit into him with affronted ire.

"What is that around her neck?!" The woman demanded, and seemed poised to say more on the matter before something tempered her ire. She moved to escort Claire into the room adjacent to where she stood, but the way she continued to regard the officer made it clear that she expected an answer, and a good one at that.

The officer seemed taken aback by the sudden outburst, looking over at the prisoner before looking back at the lawyer. He had only started his shift an hour or so ago, he hadn't even looked inside the cells. He had seen the neck braces, of course. Being the largest lockup in Inverness they had received a shipment of the things last week. "A new, sanctioned, precaution against super abled individuals, ma'am. The penal code is pending an update to allow their utilisation, but due to the highly dangerous nature of some individuals judges can authorise the use of them." He folded his arms, a smug smile on his features. Among the guard they had called them mutie collars, some lamenting the fact they weren't choke chains, "They must consider your client a high risk individual."

The woman said nothing to that, though it looked like she very much wanted to. If Claire Cavendish, a committed pacifist who'd surrendered peaceably to authorities, was considered a high risk individual, then she had little doubt that every mutant taken into custody would be treated the same, at best. But she wasn't going to tell the guard that. There was no telling what he might feel emboldened to do, what with the collar, its effects, and the knowledge that Claire might not try to physically defend herself. Her job was to protect her client and get her out of trouble, not put her in further risk.

"My name is Daria Schumacher, Barrister, specializing in criminal law. I'll be your legal counsel, should you accept my services." Daria introduced herself and motioned toward the adjacent room, which contained a table, chairs, and two to-go cups and a bag of something from a local bakery chain. She was plain-looking, and probably somewhere in her mid-twenties, though it was tough to tell with so few distinguishing features about her. Her brown hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, and she wore no jewelry or makeup that could be seen. Her matching brown eyes were sharp, however, and contained an intensity that was difficult to gaze upon.

The word barrister carried obvious emphasis, directed toward the guard, who she'd overheard referring to her as a solicitor. There was a distinction. Solicitors were like that one relative at every family gathering... the opinionated bully who liked to start obviously rehearsed debates in order to show off how good they were at getting their way. And they usually did, until someone brought a bigger bully over for dinner. Solicitors gave legal advice, filled out forms, and worked deals in backrooms. They didn't argue cases in court. Barristers were a different breed. Daria was a gladiator. She went to court prepared to fight, and if her client refused a deal and gave her the thumbs down, she would enter the arena and knife her opponent to death. Not literally, of course, but some days the job felt that way. Whether or not she would have to do that for Claire remained to be seen, but based upon attitude alone, she seemed ready and willing to try.

Claire straightened out the prisoner's uniform they had put on her and tried to reassert her confident stance, hands neatly folded in front of her. "Pardon me, Miss Schumacher, but I am not familiar with you or your firm. Are you associated with a larger firm or are you independent?" The mention of the collar made her suddenly aware of it, prying at it with her finger for a moment before clasping them back in front. "I ask because I hadn't received any confirmation of any of my contacts sending me a legal representative."

There was a moment of hesitation before Claire stepped into the room that Daria had pointed out for her. She made her way over to the bare seat, looking at the hook in front of the one seat available to shackle down less cooperative inmates. They had insisted on doing so upon her first arrival there, even though she didn't speak or make any sudden movements. She folded her hands in front of her on the table, looking at Daria expectantly.

Daria was well accustomed to first meeting people on the worst day of their lives. It was part of the job. Once she'd accepted the truth of that, a life full of awkward introductions became significantly easier to manage. Lawyers often got a bad rap for being two-faced, among other things, but they had to be. Some of Daria's clients were innocent, but many, if not most, were guilty of the crimes they'd been accused of committing, and sometimes she knew that just as well as the prosecutors she argued against. Some often confronted Daria about how she could sleep at night, trying to get bad people back on the streets. It was difficult to explain that someone had to, or the system wouldn't work. But people didn't want to hear that. And they certainly didn't want to hear that any more than they wanted to hear that sometimes, it was the system t itself that was bad, and not the ones who'd crossed it.

"We're a family firm. Schumacher and Associates. Our office is in Southwark. My father, brother and I are partners, and we have several other barristers and solicitors in our employ. We have twenty-six employees in total, five of whom work solely for me and my caseload." Daria paused for a moment and opened her briefcase to produce an informational packet on her firm. "I am here on my own initiative, Miss Cavendish, though my office has reached out to the Avalon Institute to let them know that I have offered my services to you personally for legal representation."

Daria stepped back for a moment to give Claire time to inspect the packet and process everything. In the meantime, she reached for the pastry bag and produced a a few ham and cheese breakfast parcels. She made a show of carefully breaking off a piece of one of them, and made sure Claire saw her take a bite, so that she knew it was safe to eat. She then motioned to the to-go cups. "There's also tea. That one there is sweetened, and the other unsweetened. Please pick your preference and I'll be content with the other."

Finally sitting to join Claire at the table, Daria turned and noticed the guard still in the doorway. "We'll be fine thank you, Officer." The barrister said, in what was clearly a polite dismissal.

"Sweetened with a dash of milk?" Claire asked reaching for the cup that was indicated to contain sugar. She wasn't normally one to put sugar into her tea, but it seemed like a sugar kind of day. She wasn't familiar with the law firm she had mentioned, and when she had said family firm the thought immediately crossed her mind that it would be a dad and two siblings sitting around a kitchen table, "Sorry to be blunt, but what moved you to offer your services?"

Daria nodded in the affirmative when Claire reached for the cup, then leaned back to subtly appraise her potential client while taking the first sip of her own tea. She did her best to mask her appraisals by preparing her side of the table with a notepad and a miniature tape recorder, and it would've taken a very keen eye to notice her subtle multitasking. She did, however, make it clear that she wasn't going to reply until the guard left the room and closed the interview room door.

"I.... that's a fair question." Daria said once they were alone, hesitating as if not expecting Claire's bluntness so early on. She had expected the question, of course, but she rarely ever prepared and rehearsed answers this early into a case, not when she knew neither the context of, nor the person asking the questions. Courtroom trials were different, of course. That was the time and place for a rehearsed game plan, when she had a better idea of her client, and the evidence that would be brought against her. For now, a clear and open mind suited her best, and would provide for a more fruitful and candid exchange. It went without saying how important that was, if Claire was going to trust Daria with her defense.

"This is going to be a landmark case. We know that, and the authorities and media know that too. It will be political, and it will set precedent for all future cases pertaining to the MRA." Daria rapped a fingertip on the table as she mentioned the initialism for the Mutant Registration Act. "Now, my firm has a reputation for avoiding political cases. We're outside of the old boy network that the masterminds of this anti-mutant agenda are no doubt flexing their strength in, which is probably why I'm sitting here, and not some special interests lawyer claiming to the be the answer to all of your problems." Daria paused for a moment to let that sink in. She''d been expecting a line of people like her offering their services to Claire. Clearly, the government hadn't been expecting anyone, or there wouldn't have been only one officer there, surprised to see her.

By that point, Daria had finished her initial appraisal of Claire. There was no denying that she was a mutant... as the unnatural color of her hair and skin were a testament to that. But on the same token, Daria forced herself to accept that those traits were now natural. The woman before her wasn't some menacing, otherworldly creature, she was a Human being, born from other Human beings. There was nothing unnatural about that. And the way that Claire picked at her prisoner's uniform and restraint collar was no different from the mannerisms displayed by her other clients in custody. There were slight creases in her brow, hinting toward worry about what would happen not only to herself, but those she cared about. Claire Cavendish looked like she was in control, but Daria would wager that on the inside, she was barely holding it together. Daria didn't really see a mutant... just another person who could use her help.

"I'll admit, I've never defended a mutant before. Never met one personally that I know of. And please forgive me if that's an undesirable term, its just the one the government is using in this case. I've read a bit into your background, and I respect what you do, and how you do it. I'm not interested in the fame, or infamy that's going to come with this case. I'm dreading it actually. But once I take a case, I see it through to the end, or until you release me. Its not about money either. The only money I be making is what's outlined there in my list of professional services and fees. And I'm not here because I'm the best. You know as well as I do that that's subjective and means nothing." Daria paused again, aware of the fact that she still hadn't answered Claire's question. She felt the need to be as succinct and clear as possible for that answer.

"I'm here because I think the MRA is going to destroy this country, and this is the time and place and stop it."

Claire was taking in the entire thing with little in the form of response. She knew how to keep herself and quietly observe without showing her inner thoughts. Almost the entirety of the response had been reasons to dismiss her immediately. Her friends in law firms hadn't gotten permission from the senior partners. One had their bluff called in regards to walking away from the firm. The old boys club was closing ranks and it seemed that this one family firm was putting themselves forward despite the dangers. Something they seemed to be acutely aware of.

Then came the last bit of the monologue. She sat up straighter at that, then reached for the nearest folder that had been placed in front of her. "Alright then, let's do this."

Daria nodded, trying not to show much in the way of emotion, though inwardly, she felt a thrill from the rush of adrenaline as she realized that she was now essentially in a state of war with the government of the United Kingdom.

"There's only one item in there that requires a signature, though you do not have to sign it now. It can wait until after the arraignment. It's just a retainer agreement. A case of this magnitude will require an up front monthly payment, to cover living expenses for my personal staff and I. That means we will be on-call twenty-four seven, working solely on your case. If my staff or I get a call at three am from you or any of your designated agents, we get up and take the call." Daria doubted that Claire would be given many opportunities to call---the authorities were sure to limit her access to counsel as much as they reasonably could--but she didn't want to stress out her client with battles to come this early on in the fight.

"Read it over, consult with your close advisors, and make private inquiries and background checks if need be. It's what I would do." Daria shrugged as she took another sip of her tea. In truth, were she in Claire's place, she would not have been able to afford the retainer fee, let alone a private investigator and background checks; it was hardly an insignificant sum, but it was comparable to what any other barrister of her caliber would require for this case.

Claire looked at the contract put in front of her, the retainer fee barely registered. "I'll look into it." She went over some of the rest of the papers put in front of her, then back up at Daria. "So what do you reckon or odds are of me going back to Avalon a free, unconvicted, woman?" She knew that there was no way to tell, but she also knew the situation was dire and she needed to make sure this barrister would be sensible enough to tell her the cold reality of the matter.