A savage prison rape of a young inmate . . . a grisly revenge murder . . . a forced confession results in a conviction and death sentence. Jason Cornell, a young court appointed lawyer fights for justice in a flawed legal system...
Media Center
Press play to listen to audio excerpt...
As the terrible images receded, I recalled my slow recognition of the buzz of my five a.m. alarm sounding to mercifully dispel the dark phantoms. My dream faded. My eyes opened to an east-facing window admitting a tincture of orange dawn. That vision, too, faded. Glancing at my watch, I realized I had been sitting on a cold stone step for fifteen minutes. My coffee cup cold in my hand, I shivered. At last Michael's garishly painted, psychedelic-luminescent VW van chugged to the curb, brakes squealing, motor coughing, blue smoke belching from a rattling exhaust pipe. The door opened and several vibrant young people emerged, shouting and waving for me to enter the van. Seeming to sense my reluctance they literally pulled me inside. On a mattress, crowded together--a tangled mass of arms and legs--at least a dozen guys and gals were excitedly talking and laughing as they made squeeze-room for me. The door closed and the van lurched forward. In the cramped space, the body heat, reeking of musky scent, merged with the acrid smell of smoldering hemp. Two of the suntanned young men wore khaki uniforms and had buzz-cut hair. A male voice in my ear came as a hoarse whisper, "Those guys just got out of boot camp. From here they're going to Canada." My first thought was that I was jeopardizing my million dollar law license by being in a vehicle where someone was passing around a shared joint of marijuana. My second thought was how strange I began to feel--light headed, euphoric, and suddenly aware of the smile on my face. I laughed, knowing, yet not knowing why. My right shoulder was wedged against the back of a shirtless young man; my left shoulder squeezed against another young girl's firm breasts; my lap filled with the curve of a girl's backside; my face buried in the crown of flowers in her hair. My arms had no place to go except around the waist of the young girl seated in my lap. She wore no panties and no bras. I was not really surprised when I felt her take my hands under her blouse and cup them over her breasts, nor even when she actively squeezed ever more tightly between my legs. The mounting excitement was further enhanced by the syncopated galloping motion of the van and the swaying in unison of the entangled bodies, and by the generated heat, and by the envelopment of the ethane of euphoria. Somehow the buttons on my 501's had come undone and I found myself easing into a magical engagement with this stranger, a pleasure zone of mounting rhythmical surges enhanced with every twisting lurch of the van, a combustive acceleration of ecstasy, all too soon ending in a rolling coda of exquisite climax coinciding with the bucking van as it braked to a halt. The girl with flowers in her hair smiled at me when we disentangled. And while still reeling from the dizzying high point, and barely having time to button my fly, I slipped from the van into the center of the reserved area in the Golden Gate Park....
About Justin Dwinnell
Justin Dwinnell III, Esq. is a California lawyer admitted to practice before the U.S. Supreme Court. Currently living in Bucks County Pennsylvania, he teaches constitutional law and is completing his fourth novel, REFLECTIONS OF POWER.
A savage prison rape of a young inmate . . . a grisly revenge murder . . . a forced confession results in a conviction and death sentence. Jason Cornell, a young court appointed lawyer fights for justice in a flawed legal system...
Justin Dwinnell III, Esq. is a California lawyer admitted to practice before the U.S. Supreme Court. Currently living in Bucks County Pennsylvania, he teaches constitutional law and is completing his fourth novel, REFLECTIONS OF POWER.