The Neon Lawyer
“The handle, the muzzle, the weight of it. Everyone in Utah carried guns, most of them openly in holsters, but she’d never seen the need. Salt Lake City, by national standards, was a safe place. What crime there was consisted primarily of DUIs and pot charges.
The two deputies were walking down the stairs of the courthouse with a man between them. He looked almost normal, other than the orange jumpsuit that read UTAH DOC across the back and up the side of his leg. The handcuffs were tight around his wrists. He was a large man, both fat and muscle-bound, and at least six foot two. He appeared grizzled and had a tattoo on his neck that looked like the remnant of some disease.
Amanda looked down at the gun. She closed her eyes a moment. Opening them, she looked at the photograph that hung from her rearview mirror: a six-year-old girl in a Halloween costume, a princess with a wand and sparkling pink shoes.
Tears flowed down Amanda’s cheeks.
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