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under five-eight, and was smiling at us boyishly, looking more like a salesman than an accused murderer. He had fairly light skin, with a noticeable birthmark, a dark bruise-colored discoloration on the upper edge of his face, just above and to the side of his right eye.
    Myra introduced me to Lorenzo and we all shook hands. She then launched into a brief overview of how having a public defender worked. The small, stuffy room was even more uncomfortable with Lorenzo in it; I felt myself starting to sweat. Myra asked Lorenzo if he could afford to retain a lawyer.
    "How much would I be paying?" Lorenzo asked.
    "Prices vary pretty widely. But for a murder case, if it actually goes to trial, I would think even the cheap side's going to be around fifty thousand," Myra said.
    Lorenzo looked disappointed by this answer. He glanced down and shook his head.
"No disrespect to you all, but do I need to be getting the money for a real
lawyer?"
    "To be honest, Mr. Tate, fifty thousand dollars wouldn't buy you a lawyer that's half as good as we are," Myra said, no hint of bragging in her voice.
"Obviously this is a big decision, and you should do what you feel comfortable
with. I'm not trying to sell you anything—I get paid the same whether you become
my client or not. But don't hire a lawyer just because you've heard generally
bad things about public defenders. Because we, in particular, are good."
    Lorenzo was watching Myra carefully as she spoke. When she was done Lorenzo looked over to me, which made me aware that I was smiling slightly. I decided to let myself smile. I was enjoying this. After a long moment Lorenzo nodded.
    "That's all right then," Lorenzo said. "I'm gonna be with you
all."
    "Then before we get started, I want to tell you two things," Myra said.
"First, you should tell us everything you know, bad or good, that the DA's likely to know or find out. Anything they know that we don't is going to put us at a big disadvantage. We're here to help you, not to judge you, and we can't do that if we don't know what we need to know.
    "Second, we're the only people you should talk to about this case. And I mean the only people, and I mean
anything
about this case. Someone here asks you what you're in for, you tell them traffic
tickets. Anything you say to anybody who isn't in this room right now can come
back to haunt us. You understand?"
    "I feel you," Lorenzo said.
    "Okay. I'd like to start just by getting a little background about who you are, before we get into the case itself," Myra said.
"Were you born in New York?"
    "I was raised up in the Gardens," Lorenzo said. "You know Glenwood
Gardens? Off of Avenue I out in Midwood?"
    "I don't," Myra said.
    "We the old-school kinda project," Lorenzo said. "A big old
compound of high-rises. Ain't no garden there neither."
    Myra nodded. "And is that where you still live?"
    "I'm up out of the project now," Lorenzo said. "Got me a place on
the avenue."
    "Did you finish high school, Mr. Tate?"
    "No, ma'am," Lorenzo said. I couldn't believe my ears: an accused murderer from the projects had just called Myra
"ma'am." I was taking notes while Myra asked the questions, and I wrote that down.
    "Do you have a job?"
    Lorenzo smiled a little, his head bobbing and weaving slightly.
"Do you want to know what I do for green, even if I don't pay no taxes on it,
you know what I'm saying?"
    I did, and a quick glance told me that Myra did too. "You mean if you make money doing something that isn't legal, should you admit that to us?" she asked.
    Lorenzo again with his boyish smile. I guessed that our client did all right with the ladies.
"I know you can't turn me in or nothin'," Lorenzo said. "I just don't know if
you want to know."
    "Everything you tell us is privileged," Myra said. "Meaning
exactly, we can't be forced to turn you in—unless you tell us about a crime you
are planning to commit in the future. The other factor, though, is we pretty
much can't let you say something