Chapter 13 - The Media Firestorm and the District Attorney’s Emergency Intervention
The steps of the Dirksen Federal Building were illuminated by the blinding glare of forty television camera lights when we finally emerged into the crisp evening air.
A crowd of more than three hundred community members, factory workers from the Elston industrial corridor, and churchgoers from the Bethel A.M.E. congregation had gathered at the base of the granite plaza, holding signs that read: "JUSTICE FOR MALIK" and "EXPOSE THE SEVENTH DISTRICT."
When Malik and his mother stepped through the brass revolving doors, the crowd erupted into a deafening roar of cheers and applause that echoed across downtown Chicago.
Marcus Cole stepped up to the forest of microphones, raising his hands for quiet.
“Today,” Marcus said, his voice carrying through the evening breeze, “the justice system in this city was forced to look into a mirror. For eighteen months, Dennis Kilroy and his conspirators operated a modern-day debtor’s trap on Elston Avenue, using badged authority to extort, frame, and silence honest people. But they made one fatal mistake.”
Marcus placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me forward toward the microphones.
“They thought that because Malik Harris was a warehouse worker, and because his lawyer was a nineteen-year-old student with scuffed sneakers, no one would have the courage to look behind their curtain. They were wrong.”
The reporters shouted questions all at once, the flashes from their cameras popping in rapid succession:
“Julian! Are you going to file a civil rights lawsuit against the city?”
“Julian! How many other cases did Kilroy tamper with?”
“Malik! What are you going to do tomorrow morning?”
I leaned into the microphones, waiting for the noise to settle.
“To answer your question,” I said, looking directly into the primary camera lens of the city’s evening news broadcast. “Tomorrow morning, our clinic is filing an emergency Class Action Petition under the Post-Conviction Hearing Act to vacate every single traffic conviction and civil forfeiture executed by Dennis Kilroy and Hector Valdez over the last five years.”
The crowd behind the press corps exploded into cheers.
“And as for Malik Harris,” I said, turning to smile at the young man who had stood tall through the darkest storm of his life. “He’s going to take his eight hundred dollars back to Bethel A.M.E. Church, and then he’s going to sleep in his own bed tonight as a free, innocent, and fully vindicated man.”
May you like
Mrs. Harris stepped forward, her eyes shining with tears of absolute joy, and wrapped her arms around my neck in front of every television camera in the city.
“God bless you, son,” she whispered against my ear. “God bless you for not letting them take my boy.”
