Read Novel Full Chapter 256: I'll Be His Defense Counsel
Chapter 256: I'll Be His Defense Counsel
The car stopped in front of the row of concrete bollards outside the police station. Lu Jibai kept the engine running and looked at her first.
"Don't jump in while I'm talking once we're inside."
"I know."
"No, you don't." He pulled the handbrake. "Right now your head is full of those three pages of settlement papers. The person is inside; the papers are outside. Look at the person first."
The gates of Chengdong Police Station stood open. Two fluorescent tubes hung above the entryway—one glowing a sickly blue-white, the other dark. An officer sat behind the duty desk, a shift schedule pressed under a glass panel with several dates circled in red pen. Shen Zhixia pulled her practice certificate and ID from the paper bag and slid them through.
"My brother, Shen Zhi'an. The station called me."
The officer glanced up at her, then flipped through a thin logbook on the desk. "Shen Zhi'an, seventeen. Guardian?"
"Father deceased, mother died early. I'm his older sister and guardian."
"Household register, or something showing the guardianship." The officer's pen hung in midair. "Have it on you?"
"No. I left in a hurry."
"Bring it by tomorrow morning." The officer pushed the logbook toward her and pointed. "You can see him tonight. Regulations require notifying the legal guardian, and since you're here, that's done. Sign here, and write down what time you arrived."
She wrote: September 19, 8:10 p.m. She capped the pen and set it back.
"Any word on the injured party?"
"Municipal No. 2 Hospital, nasal bridge," the officer said. "Nasal bone fracture. Severity pending assessment. Suspected intentional injury. He'll be held overnight. Something has to be on the table before seven tomorrow morning."
"Who called the police first?"
"The injured party." The officer turned a page. "Call came in at 6:46 p.m. Location was the alley behind the school's back gate, by the fried skewer stand. Patrol unit responded. School security had him pinned down first."
"What did my brother say?"
The officer closed the logbook. "Not a word. Just one sentence—'I'm waiting for my sister.'"
At the end of the corridor were two doors, one open, one closed. In the open room, two people were giving statements, voices low, paper pages turning quickly. Xu Qing came out, her mother's jacket draped over her arm, the collar of her school uniform torn open half an inch at the shoulder, a ring of purple bruising on the inside of her right wrist.
She slowed when she saw Shen Zhixia.
"Sister Zhi'an."
"So you're his sister?" Xu Qing's mother pulled her daughter half a step back. "My daughter's been scared half to death tonight. Your family's kid got in a fight—don't drag her into this."
"I was the one who told him not to get involved," Xu Qing said quietly.
"You didn't ask him to do anything." Shen Zhixia said. "You just didn't apologize."
Xu Qing lowered her head. Her mother stood there a moment, then draped the jacket over her daughter's shoulders. "We're not getting mixed up in this. I'm going to the school tomorrow."
[Thud. Seventeen years old. Intentional injury. He's already sitting in there.]
Shen Zhixia didn't argue. She waited until the jacket was settled, then turned to Xu Qing and asked about the same two items from the registration log. "Six forty-six, the alley behind the school's back gate, by the fried skewer stand. How many people?"
"Three," Xu Qing said. "Qin Hao, a classmate of his, and one guy in a blue work uniform, looked about twenty-something, holding one of those black courier bags."
"Who was holding the phone?"
"Qin Hao himself."
"What did he want you to say?"
Xu Qing's throat moved. "The same thing. 'I spread rumors in class. I apologize to Qin Hao.' Word for word, identical to August thirty-first. He said the thing about the homeroom teacher making him stand in her office yesterday—he wanted me to say it today."
"Then what?"
"Zhi'an grabbed me and pulled me toward the mouth of the alley." Xu Qing's voice wavered. "The guy in the work uniform grabbed him from behind. Held him, and lifted him up. Qin Hao came up and kicked him in the stomach, one kick. Zhi'an broke free, threw one punch back—just one." She raised her hand, then let it fall. "Then Qin Hao was on the ground, covering his nose, yelling 'My nose is broken,' really loud."
"The other one, the classmate?"
"He was off to the side the whole time with another phone out. Filming. Filming us."
Shen Zhixia pulled her notebook from the paper bag and wrote the times and locations on the first page. At "two phones," her pen stopped, and she added two characters above: two devices.
A little past ten, three more people appeared at the duty desk.
A middle-aged woman, eyes red, clutching a sheaf of papers. Chen Maolin stood half a step to her side, dark gray shirt, cuffs buttoned properly, that thin briefcase today held in his hand rather than under his arm. Behind him, a young man carrying a bag of bottled water.
"Lawyer Shen." Chen Maolin spread the papers on the duty desk and pushed them toward the officer. "From Municipal No. 2 Hospital. Imaging report. I made three copies; originals will be delivered tomorrow."
The officer picked them up. Shen Zhixia turned, catching the letterhead on the top sheet: Jiangzhou No. 2 People's Hospital Emergency Department, examination time September 19, 7:50 p.m. Two lines in the conclusion field: bilateral nasal bone fracture; left maxillary frontal process fracture. A smaller line below: inpatient observation recommended.
"Bilateral." Chen Maolin pronounced the word softly, like he was counting out money for her. "Lawyer Shen can read it."
"So a seventeen-year-old doesn't have to face consequences?" Qin Hao's mother's voice shot up, her hand slamming the duty desk. "My son's nose is broken. He's lying in the observation room with blood all over his face. Your family's kid—one punch and my son ends up like this!"
"Ma'am, lower your voice," the officer said. "Sit down and talk. Both parties are here."
"There's nothing for our two parties to discuss," Chen Maolin said.
He turned to face Shen Zhixia and rested both hands on the counter.
"Lawyer Shen, we're not negotiating terms."
She looked up.
"Anything said tonight is a waste of breath," Chen Maolin said. "We're not paying, and we're not signing any papers. That case of yours—yesterday the transfer went through, didn't it? Forty-seven thousand one hundred. Congratulations." He paused a beat. "That was you fighting for your client. This time, I fight for our side. President Qin is at the hospital with his cousin. He asked me to pass on a message: concerning his cousin's matter, he'll go through proper procedure."
"I'll write that down." Shen Zhixia pulled out her notebook, flipped to a fresh page, and wrote carefully, stroke by stroke. "September 19, 10:18 p.m., at the Chengdong Police Station duty desk, Chen Maolin stated 'no negotiations this time.'"
"Write it down." Chen Maolin said. "Every word I say today is on the record."
"The diagnosis is a photocopy." She closed the notebook. "Injury severity will be determined by the official assessment."
"I'll bring the originals tomorrow." Chen Maolin said. "Lawyer Shen, you can go find him a lawyer right now, too. Seventeen, first time in a police station, spending the night inside—not great for his studies."
"Mr. Chen." The officer was putting the papers in a drawer. "The injury assessment will be out within three days. He's being held under summons procedures, no more than twelve hours, until seven tomorrow morning. No case discussions in the station. If you have anything to say, write it down and submit it."
Shen Zhixia sat on the row of metal chairs in the corridor, notebook open on her knee, reviewing from start to finish. Writing the word "bilateral," her pen point pressed a hole through the page.
Lu Jibai returned at 10:40. Only then did she realize he'd gone out—the car keys still carried the outside chill.
"Municipal No. 2 Hospital." He draped his jacket over his arm. "The emergency observation room is at the east end of the second floor. Qin Hao's bed is by the window. I couldn't see the chart, just two lines in the registration log: chief complaint says 'struck by another person,' and the history section says 'accidental fall.'"
"Same person wrote it?"
"Same pen, two lines apart." He said. "When we pull the records tomorrow, the question is how those two lines made it onto paper."
"And the school's back gate?"
"One camera at each end of the alley. One points down the alley, one at the fried skewer stand." He raised his hand under the light to indicate positioning. "The one facing the alley—the housing's cracked on one side. Glass is still there, but no telling whether the lens inside is knocked off-angle. I got photos."
He pocketed his phone, pulled a blank power of attorney from his briefcase, laid it over her notebook, and took the pen from his breast pocket.
"I'll be his defense counsel."
Shen Zhixia stared at the paper.
"I can do it."
"You can, but you shouldn't." He said. "In this case, you're family. You're the one who took his call. You taught him how to report this and how to write his statement. All of that will have to be explained in court someday. If you sit at the defense bench, their first question will be: Lawyer Shen, are you defending your brother, or are you defending that enforcement case of yours?"
"That argument doesn't hold up."
"It doesn't need to—it just needs to drag things out ten days." He said. "Yesterday you carved that money out of the Qin family's account. Today his cousin lands in a police station. In these ten days, a few more papers will show up at your door."
She took the authorization form and read it twice.
"You sign, I sign." He said. "You sign in the legal guardian column."
She wrote "Shen Zhi'an" after "Principal," then on the line below, "Signed by legal guardian Shen Zhixia on behalf," and dated it September 19. She returned the pen.
Lu Jibai walked over to the duty desk, spread out the authorization form, laid out his defense rationale in three sentences, then made three requests.
"First: the surveillance footage from both ends of the alley behind the school's back gate—please pull it tonight. These cameras generally hold seven days, then overwrite."
"Second: the other two people present—one a student at the school, one an outsider in his twenties—please take their statements as well. Three questions need answering: who threw the first blow, who was holding someone, who had the phones out."
"Third: regarding the suspected offense and any compulsory measures, please provide written notification for the guardian."
The officer wrote each item in the margin of his log, pen pausing. "Counselor, I've noted all three. For the second, I'll record it as 'request verification.' Those people may not be found tonight."
"'Request verification' works." Lu Jibai said. "As long as it carries a date."
Her phone buzzed three times in her pocket. He Xiufen.
"I heard you're at the station." The voice was low; a range hood hummed in the background. "Three things. Remember them. One: tonight you go in there and be his sister. Don't say a single word about law. Two: in the interview, answer each question as asked. Don't add a single extra word. Three: tomorrow morning, eight o'clock—household register, the school's situation report, and Xu Qing's contact information. Have all three on my desk."
"Okay."
"And one more thing." He Xiufen paused half a second. "From tonight on, you're family. Those two words are harder than the word 'lawyer.' Don't fail at them."
[Thud. In the defense counsel column, someone else's name has been written.]
At 10:50, she entered the questioning room. A table, a computer, a printer. One chair behind the desk, one against the inner wall. Shen Zhi'an sat inside, the left sleeve of his school uniform torn from shoulder to elbow, three dried blood streaks on the back of his hand, his school badge crooked on his chest.
When he saw her come in, he looked down at his hands first.
"Sit here." The officer said. "No questions from you. Just be present. If you have something to say, wait until he finishes a section."
She nodded, sat, set the paper bag by her feet.
By the third section, her brother began talking more, pouring out the sequence of events one item after another. Her hands on her knees never moved.
"I turned in the situation report. The homeroom teacher signed it. What she wrote was 'received and read.' I took a photo."
"Audio recordings saved in two places. I gave the teacher a copy. The original is on my phone, I didn't delete it."
"I filmed the camera. Third floor, east end. I got the class placard and the hallway time display in the same shot."
"September first, morning, I filed the police report. Someone from school security was standing there watching."
[Thud. Those words from August thirty-first—sentence by sentence, he carried all of them out.]
Shen Zhixia looked down and wound the paper bag's handles around twice, tight.
When the officer asked "How far apart were you when the blows landed" and "Which side did you hit him," she stood and poured water for her brother. The paper cup went down, her hand pressing briefly against the tabletop.
The interview ran until 11:20. The officer printed the statement, pages sliding out one by one. Shen Zhi'an read slowly, finger pressing down each line. When he reached the last page, he looked up, eyes red.
"He threw the first punch. I didn't mean to hurt him."
"Sign here." The officer handed him the pen.
He wrote his name and the date. Then he laid the pen on the paper and looked back at his sister.
"Sis, I didn't do anything wrong."