Isaac picked up the phone. Elijah picked up his.
"Dad, don't sign the deal."
Elijah exhaled. "Isaac, I've been thinking—"
"Don't sign it."
"Son, listen to me. If I take the deal, I'm out in twelve months. You and Amara stay with Aunt Denise. You finish school. Life goes on."
"Life doesn't go on, Dad. You'll have a felony on your record. No one will hire you. No apartment. No second chance. Sullivan isn't giving you a deal. He's burying you quiet."
Elijah pressed his forehead against the glass. "Then what? I sit in here and wait for a miracle?"
"No. You sit in here and wait for me."
Silence.
"What are you talking about?"
Isaac pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and pressed it against the glass. Elijah squinted at it: a printed page, Section 14-22 of the Greenfield County Procedural Code.
"County law allows a family member to serve as legal representative in county-level criminal proceedings with the judge's approval. It's rarely used. Most people don't even know it exists."
Elijah stared at him. "Isaac, you're eighteen."
"The statute doesn't mention age. It says 'family member.' I'm your son."
"You're not a lawyer."
"Neither was the last person who used this statute. She was a mother defending her son in 2014. She won."