Derrik and Sam know a guy in Chinatown. His name is Jack Mitchell. I’ll be calling him Mitch. I think I might have met him on one of Niki’s shopping trips, but I’m not sure. I’m not too thrilled with the idea walking into Chinatown dressed up to have dinner in Park. So we’ll all meet at Mitchell’s shop, Eight Winds. Had a shitty time driving home – again. After I changed, I took a cab over to Eight Winds. ( Read more...Collapse )

The message from Viktor Inman came late in the afternoon. He requested my presence at the Primera Steakhouse in the Park District for dinner at eight. He also suggested that I bring someone capable of causing bodily harm, so I called Sam Pater and left a message. Sam’s living impaired, and 2pm was a bit too early for him to be up and about. It was for Viktor too, but he’s one of the old ones. You never know when they can be up and about. Some of them say they can walk in sunlight. Read More

Character: Jack Dawson
Fandom: Original character, original world
Rating: PG
Word Count: 790
Prompt: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me... and won't get fooled again. a_muse_meme vol1.week28

He was lying. I’d been reading people for so long, especially the guilty, that it was easy to see. The corners of his eyes tightened, and he made eye contact with me for a fraction of a second too long. Neither of his hands twitched. He held his body perfectly still while he told me what he’d been doing when the murder had happened. He was good at lying, but I was better at it.

“Let’s go over this again,” I said calmly, leaning back in my desk chair. The bright San Diego sunlight was streaming through the windows, showering my new client in dust motes and light. I hadn’t bothered to write any of his story down. It was nearly word for word what he’d told the cops. It was all bullshit.

“Again?” Now I got a reaction out of him. The corner of his lip pulled up just a fraction of an inch while he fought off a sneer. “I’m getting fucking sick of telling this story, Dawson. I’m not paying you to listen to me tell my alibi over and over again. You’ve got the official report, and I’ve already told you twice.”

“You’ll tell your story to me again, because that is exactly why you’re paying me.” I got up from the desk, sliding the chair back with a gentle push. Walking over to the wet bar, I poured myself a cold glass of Coke and brought him a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Settling back, I sat on the edge of my desk while he drained half of his drink. I took a sip of mine, just enough for the bubbles to tickle my nose. “You’re paying me to make sure the DA and the cops don’t poke anymore holes in your alibi, Mr. Sheppard.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard. I’m telling the truth.”

I looked down my nose at him this time looking him straight in the eyes forcing him to look away. “I don’t care either way. I don’t care if you did beat that woman to death. You’re my client, and it’s my job to keep you out of prison.”

“You don’t care, huh.” He tossed back the rest of his drink, and got up fast nearly knocking over his chair. He carried the empty glass with him, the sunlight twinkled in the ice cubes as he paced to the window. He was a tall man, and I could see the powerful muscles in his arms and legs as he moved. “What if I told you I did it? Would you care then? Would you care if I told you what it felt like to have her blood splatter into my eyes while I did it? What if I told you it’d be fun to do the same thing to you in your pretty office?”

“No, I still wouldn’t care.” I took a long slow drink of my Coke, watching him as he moved about my office like a caged tiger. When he turned back to glare at me, I was adjusting the sleeve of my shirt making sure it peeked out just right from the cuff of my jacket. “Mr. Sheppard, I don’t care if it was a one time thing, a crime of passion, a crime of revenge, or if you’re a serial killer. Defending you is my job. Defending people like you is why I’ve got this pretty office, and how I can pay for my pretty penthouse. Now if you’re finished trying to intimidate me, lets get back to work on your case.”

“Put me on the stand. I can make them believe me,” he said as he grudgingly dropped back into his seat.

“Now that is something I do care about, Mr. Sheppard. You will not be taking the stand. You’re a shitty liar.” Reaching over I took his empty glass from him and put it back on the bar. “Your alibi isn’t bad, but we’ll need something else to cast doubt. Tell me about Cassandra, Mr. Sheppard. Tell me why you killed her, and who else might have done it.”

“Shouldn’t we just be making sure my alibi sticks?” he asked. He was finally ready to hear me. His body was relaxed, and I could taste a bit of fear from him. I was in control of the situation at last.

“That’s easy. All we have to do is pay the right people, but finding another target for the police to focus on will tip the scales of justice in our favor. So tell me all about her. Don’t leave anything out.” I sat behind my desk, pressing the button on my recorder, so I didn’t miss a thing. It was time to get to work.

Jack Dawson has been practicing as a criminal defense lawyer for over twenty years. Since becoming a full partner with Waterman, Dawson & Redford, Attorney Dawson has successfully handled hundreds of criminal cases and has tried numerous jury trials. He has defended persons charged with murder, manslaughter, robbery, burglary, arson, sex offenses, narcotic offenses, theft offenses, assault, battery, DUI and various other felony and misdemeanor cases. He has achieved outstanding results for his clients including reductions, dismissals and acquittals in murder cases. He has overturned several convictions in appeal.

Trial lawyer Jack Dawson vigorously fights for anyone accused of a crime. Attorney Dawson prepares his cases using the most advanced electronic and technological research systems available. He also works with a highly qualified team of experts, investigators and researchers.

Attorney Jack Dawson, a criminal law expert, one of a handful of California attorneys who have been awarded two separate certified specialties by the California State Bar, Board of Legal Specialization as a criminal law specialist.

Specializing in Criminal Defense including:

* White Collar Crimes
* Violent Crimes
* Murder
* Homicide
* Manslaughter
* Assault
* Battery
* Child Abuse
* Stalking
* Sex Crimes
* Rape
* Child Molestation
* Theft
* Robbery
* Burglary
* Drug Crimes
* Narcotics Sales/Possession
* Spousal Abuse
* DUI / Driving Under the Influence
* Federal Offenses
* Felonies
* Misdemeanors
* Appeals - State and Federal
* Sentence Reductions
* Expungements
* Dismissals
* Acquittals
* Writs/Habeas Corpus
* Other Crimes
* All Criminal Trials

My author jleemoffatt has finished the NANOWRIMO part of Dawson's Law. That's the first 50K of the first draft of my story. She has another 10-20K to add before she sends it off to agents... I'll be poking at her to hurry it the fuck up. I want the story done by the 1/1/09. I'm a pushy character.

I'll be snarking my way there through Game and Lee writing my book. Unlike her other characters, I don't have to listen to her.

Jack's Twitter

Character: Jack Dawson
Fandom: Original Character and Setting
Author: jleemoffatt
Rating: PG
Word Count: 476
Prompt: Winged Girl a_muse_meme
Notes: Jack is an original character. I'll be working on his character and the setting over the next several prompts until I figure out just who he is. Things will more than likely be very fluid while I sort his world out.

Dirty Jobs Aren't Done Cheap

It was one of those sweltering days in San Diego. Might have been the effects of global warming, the reduction of the Ozone layer, or whatever the fuck else that could be blamed on the last trio of Presidents, but none of that really mattered to me. I was in too good of a mood to care about the sweat trickling down the back of my neck as I stepped into the bar off of India Street.

My client, Eduardo, held up two fingers to one of the girls in the short vinyl outfit. She smiled the tips of her wings glowed bright blue as she soared over the tables to land in front of us.

“We’re here to celebrate,” he told her. “My lawyer here just saved my fucking life.”

“I was just doing my job.” It hadn’t been easy. It’s never easy to keep the guilty out of prison. Defending an innocent man was a job anyone could do. You didn’t pay the obscene amount of money that Eduardo’s family had paid me unless you were good. Me, I’m better than good.

“That’s great,” the girl said, keeping her bland smile in place. I doubt that she cared. Why would she? All she cared about was the tip we’d be leaving her. She pulled out her control unit, her eyes glowing as she accessed the bar’s database. “I’ve got a table on the fifth floor for you gentlemen. If you’ll follow me please.”

“Got it thanks.” I held out my wrist, letting the data stream pour into the thin bracelet that we all wore, the location of our table flickered over the back of my eyelids showing me the way. My link was an expensive one, but it wasn’t as if I couldn’t afford the very best. It was the only way to live really. “We can find our own way up.”

“You should have let her show us where the table is. It’s her job.” Eduardo followed behind me as I led the way to the lifts to the upper floors. “I miss my link. Can’t wait to get a new band.”

“You’ll be hooked back up soon enough, Eddie.” I leaned against the thin neon railing of the lift. My attention drawn to my client’s as he watched the pretty girl make her way back up towards the lofty ceiling. I had no doubt visions of her face battered, bruised and bloodied were dancing in his head. Once a murderer, always a murderer. I leaned close to him, so he could hear my whisper over the din of the bar. “But a little advice, just because you paid me a shitload of money to get a not guilty doesn’t mean you should jump right back into your favorite pass time. If you’re going to start up again, do it in some other town.”

Yep I'm writing more fic of my characters to get my brain working. Since Denver comes from a different 'Verse where the supernaturals are out of the closet...I've dropped him into Dawson's very human world.

When Denver Met Dawson
The best part about going to Vegas, besides leaving the wife back in San Diego, was that whole everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. My appointment with my paying client hadn’t lasted too long, afterwards the guilty as sin son of a bitch took me out on the town. Got to admit though that when Aaron said he wanted to take me to paint that town red that I was a little worried that he meant it. I wasn’t his highly paid legal counsel for back taxes and unpaid parking tickets. Oh no Aaron decided that he liked his business partner’s heart on a platter.
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