Previously in "2nd Time Around":

In 1996, Sarah Griffin walked in on her neighbor, who had murdered his family. in 1998, she was convicted and sentenced to death for these killings. In 2006, the state of Virginia failed to execute Sarah in the electric chair.


2014:

... Richard rose to his feet. Even while seated, he was the tallest in the group, so standing wasn't necessary. Nevertheless, he liked to stand and be heard.

"The name's Richard Romer," he said. "I guess I'm what my friends from the south call a 'Yank' or 'Yankee'. I grew up in Brooklyn. I attended Stony Brook University and SUNY at Buffalo Law School. I devoted myself to fighting the death penalty and headed south right after graduating."

He was loud and enthusiastic, leaving the microphone lying on the table in front of him. Despite being from Brooklyn, he did not have an accent.

He did have enthusiasm. For as long as he could remember, he wanted his words remembered. He excelled at public speaking and always looked to give anyone who'd listen an answer. A notable example was when the teacher in health class asked for the four bodily fluids which could transmit HIV and AIDS.

"Breast milk," the teenage Richard replied. Many of His classmates snickered, only to be silenced by the teacher's announcement that he was right and had named the one they most often forgot.

Whether it was a jury or an audience, Richard was ready to address them. The students of the Touro Law Center were no different.

"I suppose I should explain how I came into the picture," Richard said. "Doug and I met after Grace but before Donna came along. Unlike Doug, I believe in the concept of 'ladies first' so I'm willing to let things go out of order."

He received some chuckles for this remark. After a few seconds, he got going again.

"Like I said, my name is Richard Roemer. I attended the State University of New York at Buffalo Law School a long time ago and I've been fighting the death penalty ever since, primarily practicing in the mid-Atlantic region. I suppose my getting involved in Sarah's case could best be described as 'ambulance-chasing', though I'll never admit that to the Bar ..."

2006:

"... Are you sure?" Richard asked, remaining calm. He liked to save his more boisterous side for public appearances and lectures. There was no point in bringing it out here.

"Yes," His client, Sharon Cassidy, said, sliding the newly-signed form back to him.

Resigned, Richard tucked the document into his briefcase, promising to file it with the courts. He and his now-former client bid each other farewell and he left the room.

As a corrections officer led him back to the lobby of the visitor's center at the Fluvanna Correctional Center for Women, Richard tried to put his former client out of his mind. Though he managed to arrange a plea bargain that didn't include the death penalty, Sharon Cassidy was nonetheless convicted of first degree murder. That wasn't surprising. The evidence showed this woman gunned down her husband and his mistress in cold blood at a gas station in Virginia Beach.

But Sharon Cassidy was the sole remaining person who believed in her own innocence and she didn't like it when Richard told her he wouldn't be able to get her out of prison. He promised to continue filing appeals for her in the hopes of reducing her two consecutive sentences of life imprisonment, but she still fired him. He had asked her to sleep on the decision but she was just as adamant the next day, so he gave in and presented her with the proper form to sign, terminating their attorney/client relationship.

"Oh well," He muttered. "plenty more where she came from. God bless this country's love for executions."

Sure, that love was waning, but there were still over three thousand people on Death Row nationwide. In 2005 alone, sixty people were executed. 2006 was matching this pace, even with the botched electrocution. No, the love wasn't gone.

As he passed the visitation room for inmates and their non-attorney guests, Richard happened to look in through the window and stopped in surprise. A woman with very short red hair was sitting inside the cage reserved for dangerous inmates as well as the state's condemned.

He had of course heard of Sarah Griffin when she was first sentenced to death back in 1998, but he had never seen her in person. Granted, his view wasn't the greatest, but he was pretty sure it was her. She seemed to be clinging to the bars of the cage as she spoke to a young man who somewhat resembled her. As he watched them, Richard began to wonder.

"Let's go," The corrections officer escorting him insisted. "I Haven't got time for a tour."

Richard offered a half-hearted apology and kept walking. He was brought back to the lobby, where he collected his possessions. For Some odd reason, he was allowed to bring his briefcase into a visit with an inmate client, but the prison staff insisted on collecting things like his cell phone, his watch, his raincoat, etc.

As he was getting his things back and signing for them, Richard noticed the young man who resembled Sarah Griffin come out. He wordlessly stepped aside and pretended to tie his shoe while the young man collected his belongings.

When the latter was all set to go, Richard followed him out of the building.

"Excuse me!" he called, keeping a brisk pace. "Excuse me!"

The young man stopped and turned around, enabling Richard to catch up with him. The morning's rain had stopped, so their raincoats were no longer necessary. It was still chilly, not surprising for late October, but it wasn't too bad.

"I saw you in the visitation room, Richard said. "How do you know Sarah Griffin?"

"What do you want with my sister?" the young man asked with crossed arms and narrowed eyes.

"Please, I don't mean any harm. My name's Richard Roemer. I'm an attorney. I can help your sister."

Richard produced a business card from his pocket.

"I specialize in death penalty cases," he explained. "What's happening to your sister is wrong. I just want to help."

The young man shook his head.

"My sister has a lawyer," he said.

"Please just consider it," Richard said. "You don't have to pay me."

He paused.

"She shouldn't die," he finished.

Having said his bit, He walked away towards his own car.

* * *

About a week after his encounter with Sarah's brother, whose name he learned was Lewis, Richard got a call at his office. It was Doug Walker, demanding to see him.

Richard knew of Doug Ernest Walker and his firm, Wheeler, Lex, & Sutton, through what he read about the case. After meeting Lewis, he did some more thorough research on the big man and learned he had only been an attorney for four years when he took on Sarah, his first and, So far, only condemned client. He was supervised by one of the firm's more experienced attorneys in the beginning, but it seemed he'd been doing it on his own for the last year and a half when that supervisor retired.

Richard's experience with the death penalty was quite extensive. Three of his clients were executed but he got another eight off Death Row. He'd also represented two dozen or so men and women during their capital murder trials and felt his experience vastly outweighed Doug's. Getting the attorney to hand over the case wouldn't be the most challenging thing in the world. Richard would make sure Sarah never got anywhere near another execution.

But when he researched the case history and read the appellate briefs and decisions on Westlaw, Richard's self-confidence deflated like a balloon used for target practice by an Uzi. Skimming through court decision after court decision and more pages of transcripts than he could count, he was forced to conclude that, while Doug Walker had less experience in this field than him, the former had done things right. Richard couldn't think of anything he himself could have done better.

So, Richard was forced to enter Doug's office in the SunTrust Plaza building with his humility exposed. When he arrived, being escorted by some associate in the firm, he saw Doug talking to a young woman with long, blonde hair who was showing him a document and commenting about someone who didn't have a dog but did own a cat. They both looked up when he entered.

"Grace," Doug said. "give us a minute, please."

"Sure," The young woman said. "I'll be in the library."

She didn't acknowledge Richard as she left the office.

"Man," Richard said when she was gone, "give me that in a string bikini and I'll retire tomorrow ... right down to a shack in the Bahamas."

Doug's deep frown made it clear the attempt to lighten the mood fell flat ... very flat.

"Retirement may be a pipe dream for you right now," the big man said in a low, raspy tone. "You wanna explain why you tried to solicit my client? Or should I skip any explanation on your part and go straight to the state bar?"

"You spoke to Sarah's brother?" Richard asked.

"Yes. You're not the first attorney to go around me to try and take Sarah's case. Sarah and her family made it clear they trust me and don't appreciate the intrusions. They've been reporting guys like you for months. I'll be honest ... I don't appreciate the intrusion either. I've got work to do."

"I'm sorry," Richard said, unable to come up with a better response. "I just thought ..."

"I'm sure I know what you thought. you're the hot shot death penalty lawyer around here. You thought you could do better than me. Well, I've worried every time I went into a courtroom. But I wasn't worried about myself. I was worried about Sarah, because my screw-ups could very well cost her everything, including her life. Look what she lost already."

"That wasn't your fault. You did a fine job. I truly am sorry I ever got in the way."

While exhibiting modesty and honesty had been his planned ploys to stay out of trouble, Richard now found himself telling Doug all this because it was how he actually felt.

"You know," Doug said, "when I first got her file after her previous appellate attorney died, I wasn't sure she was innocent. I thought she didn't get a fair shot at telling her side of the story, so I stuck with it after she agreed to let me represent her, but I had my doubts about her innocence. I went to see her for the first time in one of those rooms after she signed on with my firm. That surprised her as the last guy barely called, let alone visited. The lawyer may have been good at his job, but he missed any lectures on people skills ... ever. We spoke for a little while ... well, she did most of the talking. Anyway, I left that prison wondering how a sweet girl like that could kill four people. That's when I really reviewed the file and began to believe her. That was 2004. I suppose the rest is history."

Richard nodded, finally deciding to sit in a chair across the desk from Doug.

"I only heard about her case on the news," he said. "I was busy enough with the clients I already had."

At the time, he was handling the appeals of Greg Foster, who was condemned for shooting a sheriff's deputy during a traffic stop in Denwiddie County. He was also preparing for the capital murder trial of Aaron Sanford, an Abingdon resident charged with drowning his girlfriend's infant son in the kitchen sink when the baby wouldn't stop crying. In addition, there was a cue of clients, convicted and awaiting trial, seeking his services. Virginia's Death Row was a lot more crowded in the 90s and he couldn't have squeezed Sarah in if he tried.

"Since no one dropped her file on my desk, I assumed she was guilty," Richard admitted, "even if I didn't think she deserved to die."

He looked at Doug, who returned the stare from behind his sunglasses.

"Do you really believe she didn't kill those people?" he asked.

"She killed the husband," Doug said. "No doubt in my mind about that. There's no doubt in her mind about that either. But there is also no doubt in my mind that it was in self-defense. He would have killed her otherwise and we might now be talking about a completely different person."

"You figure out what to do about the cell phone or what it even has to do with her?"

"Not yet, but it's on my list."

Richard nodded again.

"Carry on then," he said. "I'm sorry to have gotten in the way. Good luck to all of you."

He rose and turned to go. Doug stopped him.

"Do you know Francis versus Resweber?" he asked.

Richard turned to face him again.

"Sure," he said, "1947 ... Supreme Court case ... they just made some sort of film about it."

He also understood its relevance and how the justices' decision back then was bad news for Sarah today.

"I need to figure out how to get around that," Doug said. "Any ideas?"

"Not off the top of my head. I could do some research and come up with something. That is ... if you're suggesting we work together."

Doug nodded.

"I'd rather have you on my team than running loose out there, doing God knows what. And I don't have the time or patience to deal with the paperwork required to make you the Bar's problem."

Richard was taken aback.

"All right," he said. "Thank you."

Inside, he was supremely relieved not to be facing disciplinary sanctions.

"Just one rule," Doug cautioned. "you try any sneaky tactics on Sarah behind my back and I'll personally throw you out my window."

With one thick thumb, He indicated the large window behind him, which offered an enviable view of the Richmond cityscape. It didn't look like it could be opened.

"Understood," Richard promised. He realized Doug had researched him as well. In his own way, the big man was asking for his expertise.

* * *

For Richard, the attorney/client visitation rooms at Fluvanna all looked alike, with their gray walls, bolted-down furniture, and doors without handles on the inside. For all he knew, he was sitting in the same room where Sharon Cassidy fired him, or terminated his services, as the legal document put it, a few weeks ago.

Doug and Grace had prepared him for his first meeting with Sarah, the latter schooling him on her disabilities and capabilities, which she admitted they themselves were still trying to figure out.

"We're getting someone for that," she'd said.

Richard was surprised by Sarah's appearance when she was brought in, an officer pushing the wheelchair, but that surprise soon gave way to anger at his having to wait ninety minutes before she arrived. The corrections officers' responses to his inquiries about the delay were reminders to stay seated as they secured Sarah's cuffed wrists to the table. He obeyed with great reluctance, remembering his promise to Doug to not cause trouble.

"Press the red button when you're done," one of the officers said, pointing out the intercom behind Richard before leaving and locking the door.

When they were alone, Richard introduced himself as he always did. He found it a bit odd how simple it seemed to slip into his usual role. Was Sarah just another client? He didn't know, but he couldn't help looking into those dark spaces on her face. Amazing what a difference the absence of two little orbs made.

"What happened, anyway?" he asked, figuring she wouldn't feel bound to keep the nature of her delay a secret.

"A woman a few cells down from me lit her mattress on fire," Sarah explained without a trace of shock. "She then held a shiv to her cellmate's neck to try and keep the guards back. They used pepper spray and a hose to bring her down."

"The cellmate all right?"

Sarah shrugged her shoulders as best she could.

"I think so," she said. "I didn't hear anything about needing paramedics or something like that."

Richard knew incidents like this weren't unusual in prison. Some very volatile people were crammed into some very tight spaces. And, with Sarah being the sole condemned woman in Virginia, it made sense she'd be in the same area as other maximum security inmates, at least some of whom would have cellmates, whether that was a good idea or not.

"So, you're the new guy on my legal team, huh?" Sarah asked. "Thought Grace would hold on to that title a little longer."

Richard knew the other not-unusual thing in prison was how people, inmates and staff alike, soon moved on after an incident. Those who needed medical attention got it ... kind of, the incident was documented, the scene was cleaned up, and everyone returned to the routine.

"Well, things can have a way of surprising you," Richard replied, sorting through some papers he'd placed on the table, moving on as well. "But don't worry. I'm answering to Doug. He's still the big boss. He brought me in so I wouldn't be running wild out there, doing God knows what. Right now, I'm not to make a move without his approval."

This was one of Doug's conditions for him being kept out of trouble with the state Bar. As far as Richard was concerned, he'd obey the rules as long as he was kept involved. So far, things were proceeding to his satisfaction. He studied Sarah, who nodded but didn't smile.

"Doug sent me to update you," he continued. "He thought I was the best choice to explain the status of your case ... well, the murder case, anyway. You ever hear of Francis versus Resweber?"

Sarah's neutral face took on a slight frown as her eyebrows furrowed. Were she not cuffed to the table, Richard was sure she would have brought a finger or two to her chin or forehead while she contemplated. With her eyelids closed, he almost forgot about her missing eyeballs ... almost.

"Doug's mentioned it here and there," Sarah said when her face relaxed again. "He never said much about it before except how it could be bad news for me."

"He wasn't kidding," Richard affirmed. "As shocking as your experience in the electric chair is ... pardon my choice of phrase ... it's not unprecedented."

Sarah's eyes seemed to widen. He couldn't be sure, but he supposed the black spaces enlarged a little.

"Heh?" she asked. "Are you saying I'm not the first person this has happened to?"

"Unfortunately, not," Richard said. "Back in 1945, a sixteen-year-old kid named Willie Francis was arrested for the murder of Andrew Thomas, a Cajun pharmacy owner in St. Martinville, Louisiana."

"Did he do it?"

"He confessed in two written statements. I'm not sure though. The gun and bullets used to kill the pharmacist disappeared from the evidence room before the trial. The gun is said to have belonged to a local Sheriff's deputy down there who allegedly threatened to kill the pharmacist at one point. There were rumors going around that Andrew Thomas was sexually abusive and Willie Francis, who worked for him at some point, made a statement which may have suggested it, though none of that was ever proven."

"I thought I got dealt a bad hand."

Sarah shook her head in dismay.

"Willie Francis was a black kid in Louisiana in 1945," Richard reminded her. "the prosecution, the judge and jury, and probably his own attorney saw his race first and foremost. The cops found the victim's wallet on him during an arrest in Texas for an unrelated crime. Willie Francis led them to the holster, claiming he carried the murder weapon in it. All that was gravy for the prosecution's case. The jury didn't hesitate to convict, and he got the death penalty. His court-appointed defense attorneys offered no objections, called no witnesses and put up no defense. They didn't even question the validity of the kid's confessions."

Sarah nodded. Richard knew She'd always done well in social studies and, prior to becoming blind, often requested biographies and books on historical events from the prison library. She knew all about the history of race relations in America. But there was one thing that wouldn't make sense to her and Richard waited for the question.

"How exactly does his case impact mine?" Sarah asked, right on cue.

There wasn't an obvious connection. For one thing, she was white and, on top of that, quite pale thanks to her lack of extensive outdoor exposure. Richard didn't know much about a redhead's ability to tan and wasn't going to hurry and research the subject.

"Back then, Louisiana used a portable electric chair to carry out executions. It worked just like the one here in Virginia does, except for it being portable. It was called 'Gruesome Gertie' and they took it from county to county, or 'parish' to 'parish' as they're known down there. Each parish carried out their own death sentences at the time. The state didn't take over the process until 1957, when it began carrying out all executions in an immovable electric chair at the Louisiana State Penitentiary in Angola. Lethal injection followed about forty or forty-five years later."

Sarah nodded again. They both knew Virginia's electric chair, nicknamed "Old Sparky", had thick oak arms and legs which probably made it hard to move. Plus, it was bolted down on a platform, which in turn was bolted down to the floor of the execution chamber at Greensville.

"On May 3, 1946, that chair failed to kill Willie Francis," Richard said.

He took a moment to clarify how the appeals process was much shorter back then compared to the eight years Sarah spent on Death Row before her execution. He noted that the eight years, while normal for Virginia, was below the current national average of twelve to thirteen. He also pointed out how a black kid like Willie Francis was not likely to get any real attention or sympathy from the courts.

"What happened?" Sarah asked. "Why didn't the chair work on him?"

"Not sure," Richard replied. "They did find out it was set up by a corrections officer and prison trustee from Angola, both of whom were allegedly drunk during the process. Willie Francis screamed, 'Take it off! Take it off! Let me breathe!' as they were trying to kill him ... that's what the witnesses at the execution reported later, though I don't believe that."

"Why not?"

Richard understood why Sarah might be confused. Though she couldn't remember her own execution, a reaction like that seemed perfectly natural. Plus, Doug had read her the reports about her own electrocution.

"Electricity causes your muscles to contract and become stiff," he explained. "You wouldn't have been able to move your jaw up or down until a little while after they turned off the juice ... think of someone going through a seizure ... same thing. You can't open the person's mouth with the Jaws of Life. Plus, when they strap that cap onto your head, it's so tight that you can't move your lower jawbone anyway."

Richard reached across the table, put his hand underneath Sarah's chin, and pushed it up hard to demonstrate. Though he obviously wasn't as strong as an electrical current or a cap's chin strap, Sarah seemed to get the idea. However, Richard could tell one thing was still bothering her.

"The reports said I screamed," Sarah pointed out, again right on cue.

"They called it a 'strangled cry' in the reports," Richard reminded her. "yes, you were screaming, but you couldn't open your mouth to complete the task. It was kind of like you were screaming through a gag."

Sarah nodded, looking a little queasy.

"That's why I believe what happened to Willie Francis but why I simultaneously do not entirely believe the witness reports," Richard continued. "people were saying all kinds of things after the execution. The sheriff, E. L. Resweber, was later quoted as saying, 'This boy really got a shock when they turned that machine on'."

He could tell Sarah now saw the similarities. Even though no one was drunk at her execution, the incidents were still essentially the same. Richard didn't think she would like where this was going.

"A lawyer named Bertrand DeBlanc took on Willie Francis's case," he narrated. "He was out of his league for sure. He was just a kid himself really. Anyway, they were able to get the attention of the United States Supreme Court. The lawyer, DeBlanc, argued that Willie Francis's 5th, 8th, and 14th Amendment rights of double jeopardy, cruel and unusual punishment, and due process were violated. Long story short, they lost five to four."

"What?" Sarah asked. "Why? How?"

Richard studied the astonished look on Sarah's face. Even he couldn't fully fathom how Willie Francis could go through her current real-life nightmare sixty years earlier and then lose in the U.S. Supreme Court. It made some sense to him, though only some.

"Again, a poor black kid in the south in the 1940s. It certainly didn't help him. The court ruled putting someone on trial again after they were acquitted for the same crime was double jeopardy. Executing them again after the first try was a bust wasn't. They compared it to someone being retried after their first conviction was thrown out ... doesn't constitute the 'legal hardship' on the defendant that would merit the imposition of double jeopardy. After that, Willie Francis was successfully executed on May 9, 1947, again in the electric chair."

Sarah paused, her brows furrowed again as she processed this.

"But Virginia stopped using the chair," she said, still contemplating. "If they execute me again, it'd be by lethal injection."

After the botched execution, Virginia suspended the use of the electric chair for the course of the investigation. It was by no means eliminated, but for the time being, an inmate couldn't choose between it and lethal injection as the statute normally allowed.

"Doesn't matter," Richard corrected. "the court was talking about the process of executing someone in general. The fact that the players were Willie Francis, Louisiana, and the electric chair is irrelevant in the long run ... the same decision might have been made if it was the gas chamber in California or the firing squad in Utah."

Sarah nodded, frowning. She understood but didn't like his answer.

"This is unbelievable," she muttered. "They can do this to me and then just go ahead and try to kill me all over again because some court said it was okay sixty years ago?"

She shook her head.

"Case law never dies," Richard told her. "it just gets overshadowed by newer case law. It's all about the precedent that's been set. You just have the misfortune of being only the second person to whom this has happened to ... ever."

"Lucky me," Sarah muttered.

She looked at Richard. The lawyer had to remind himself of what Grace had said. Sarah used a person's voice to determine where they were. He stared at those dark spaces again, fascinated by how she was managing with these impairments.

"Is there anything we can do?" Sarah asked. "Anything at all?"

Focusing again, Richard nodded before remembering she couldn't see this.

"We're certainly gonna try," he said. "We'll ask the courts to take another look at that decision. Sixty years is a long time ... a lot of attitudes can change. And the Supreme Court has a history of reversed decisions on certain issues ... sodomy and capital punishment, for example. If we present a strong enough argument on how times and lower court rulings have changed, we could get the case overturned. Then we'll work on getting you out of here once and for all."

Sarah smiled a little.

"Tell me something," Richard said. "why did you choose the chair over injection to begin with?"

Sarah said nothing and he decided to drop it ...