(Rewritten)

That night, sleep is the last thing on my mind. The darkness around me puts me on edge, so I turn on the lamp beside my bed.

The sudden light casts shadows around the room and a dim glare hits me from my bookshelf. My bare feet hit the wooden floor as I swing myself out of bed. Walking over to the shelf, I pick up the object of the glare, silent tears now tracking their way down my cheeks.

I grasp the carefully framed picture in my shaking hands. Rick's face stares back at me from the photo, a beaming smile present on his face. His high school graduation robe hangs off his lanky form, a hand resting on his square graduation hat.

In that moment something in me snaps.

I will not let this be the way that Rick's life plays out. He will not rot away in a prison cell, dreading that each day may as well be his last.

Setting the picture down delicately, I grab my mac book air from my cluttered desk. Walking to my door, I make sure it's firmly shut before booting up the laptop and taking a seat on my bed. Crossing my legs, I rest my elbows on my knees.

Once it's finished logging in, I open up google and freeze.

If I'm going to do anything, I have to believe that Rick is innocent. Sitting still for a few seconds, my eyes stray once more to Rick's picture. Making a decision, I rest my hands on the smooth keyboard ready to type.

Unless Rick himself gives me a confession, he's innocent in my eyes.

A slight weight comes off my shoulder's as I tell myself this. Looking through countless law related articles, the only loophole I can find is what's called an appeal. Which means the chance to challenge the sentence given, in Rick's case it's the possible death penalty.

But I don't recall any mention of an appeal, at least not from Rick's lawyer. I'll have to ask my parents about that.

I go on CNN hoping that I'll find some articles that can help me figure out where to start in my search for more in depth answers. A headline catches my attention and I frown.

HARVARD LAW STUDENT TRIED AND FOUND GUILTY OF MURDER

Eyes widening, I click rapidly on the article, then curse the slow internet connection as it loads. When the words finally pop up, Rick's name hits me full in the face and right below is a mug shot of him. His eyes have dark circles in the picture and he looks like death.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to banish the thought of death from my head. Blinking them open, I bite my chapped lips.

The whole world will know what he's done. Or at least what everyone now thinks he's done.

Scrolling through, my eyes flit across the page and something stands out.

MR. ORTEGA IS BEING TRANSPORTED TO A MAXIMUM SECURITY PRISON IN CHICAGO THIS COMING WEEKEND. HE WILL REMAIN THERE INDEFINITELY, UNLESS THE GRAND JURY VOTES TO MOVE FORTH WITH A DEATH PENALTY. THE DECISION IS TO BE MADE IN A WEEKS TIME.

A PLEA APPEAL, FILED EARLIER BY MR. ORTEGA'S LAWYER, HAS BEEN DENIED.

No appeal. That means that either Rick spends his life in prison, or they end his life there. Either way Rick will potentially die in a cold, harsh prison. He'll be remembered as the perfect law student who was eventually cracked by the weight of the world's expectations.

Reading through the short paragraph once more, the city named catches my eye.

Chicago.

There has to be something or someone there who can give me some answers. Maybe I should talk to Rick's lawyer first, see what he can tell me about Rick's case.

Searching google for the man, I'm surprised when I come across nothing. No website, phone number, or email is listed.

Well my dad did mention that Rick's was his last case before retirement.

But that means that I'll have to ask my dad for the phone number, and that's not an option. I don't think he'll accept a simple explanation such as the need for closure. He knows me better than that. When I was younger he'd joke that I'd grow up to work for the CIA or some government branch because I'm too clever and manipulative to stick to some boring desk job.

That being said they can't know what I'm doing.

I saw the look in their eyes on the drive home from the trial. It had been a hopeless emptiness, a reluctant acceptance. A realization that their perfect son, is no longer flawless.

They've given up fighting for Rick, but I haven't. Which is why I need to get that phone number, and I'm pretty sure the only place I'll find that information is in my dad's office.

Groaning, I shut the lid of my laptop. Setting it aside, I tip toe to my door. The door opens with a creak and I try to slink through as quietly as possible. Soft snores drift over to me, telling me that my parents are sound asleep. Stepping carefully down the stairs, I make sure to avoid the creaky step.

I stumble around in the dark for a few minutes before I finally reach my dad's office. Grasping the cool doorknob, I twist and am relieved to find it unlocked. It opens with a low groan and I slip through the crack.

My clumsy fingers search for the light. Patting down the wall, I find the switch. The office is bathed in warm light as I flick it on.

I'm shocked at how cluttered the office is. My dad usually keeps it tidy and clean. There are stacks of papers sprawled carelessly on his large wooden desk. An opened bottle of scotch sits next to his computer. I frown at all the empty boxes which lay around the room.

Stepping over a large cardboard box, I riffle through some of the papers on my dad's desk. I try not to move too many things out of place, but I doubt my dad will notice if a few things are out of place. My eyes latch onto a sticky note which is attached to the cordless phone.

There's a number scrawled messily across the small yellow square. Under the number is the name, Anthony Duran-Attorney.

Bingo.

Grasping a pen which is lying next to the phone, I write down the number on a stray post it note. I set back the pen, take the note and back silently out of the room. The door shuts firmly behind me with a soft click.

Heading back upstairs, I let out a sigh of relief when I make it back to my room unnoticed. I open my laptop and stick the note to the edge of the screen. Once the lid is shut once more, I place it aside.

Falling back onto my bed, I feel surprisingly exhausted. I'll call Mr. Duran tomorrow and I will find something to help Rick.

I will prove he is innocent.

~

The next morning, the house is peacefully quiet. My parents already long gone to work.

I take out the post it note and punch the number into my phone. Hugging one of my decorative pillows to my chest, I fidget on my bed.

Finally after countless rings, a woman's voice picks up. "Mr. Duran's assistant, how may I help you?"

I open my mouth to speak, but the words get caught in my dry throat.

"Hello?" The slightly raised voice snaps me out of my daze.

"Hi, yes, this is Elizabeth Ortega. I'm here to inquire about my son Richard's case files?" I gulp and hope she doesn't call me out on my lie. I'm pretty positive they won't give out files or information like that to Rick's eighteen year old sister who's willing to do something pretty stupid for the sake of her brother.

"Mrs. Ortega, I'm afraid Mr. Duran has already cleared out his office and as of today any remaining case files have been sent to Chicago."

I thank the woman, all the while frowning.

Why the big hurry on Mr. Duran's part to clear everything out? He's going into retirement not the grave.

I sigh, setting down my phone. Either way, all signs point to Chicago.

But how the heck am I going to convince my parents to allow me to go to a foreign city by myself? Especially now. They've lost one child and now I'm the only one left, even if I'm no Harvard student.

Wait a second. That's it, colleges.

My parents have been pushing for months, trying to get me to find a college I want to attend. Chicago has to have some college tours happening right now. It is summer after all.

Powering up my laptop, I google some key words and soon enough countless websites pop up. Each offers their brochures for the college and the various tours available.

I find a few ones that look trustworthy and professional enough. Printing them out, I begin to mentally rehearse what needs to be a very convincing speech.