Diane Giacalone Attorney Novels & Stories

An hour later, we were sitting in Killian's study with his lawyer, Mr. Kevin Morrison, and the one who called Killian earlier, Mr. Gunner Stiles. Mr. Morrison was the one preparing the case against Dylan. Killian said he was one of the best lawyers he had ever worked with. Officially, as a criminal offense, Dylan's case was handled by the police investigators and prosecution, but recent events had proven this case would be lost without additional help. Fortunately, Mr. Morrison had friends in the NYPD and the prosecutor's office and agreed to this collaboration for the sake of efficiently bringing Dylan behind bars.

"You said the university suspended me. That means I have nothing left to lose. So help me. Get me into that station. Give me five minutes with him. That's all I need." Diane was silent for a long moment. Then she pulled out her phone. "I know a public defender who owes me a favor. She might be able to get you in as a legal assistant." "That's illegal." "So is impersonating a police officer." Diane's expression was hard—harder than I'd ever seen it. "Jace's mother did it for weeks. You said it yourself. Sometimes you have to break the rules to beat the people who wrote them." I looked at this woman—my supervisor, my reluctant ally, the person who'd handed me a file weeks ago and unknowingly s

' Sighing happily, I went back to snuggled under my comforter, soon enough I was snoozing off again. The loud music of my ringtone jerked me up again. Ignoring it, I closed my tired eyes. Then it started ringing again. Groaning, I sat up, searching for the phone that was disturbing my peaceful sleep. Picking it up from the dressing table I saw an unknown number flashing across the screen. Wondering who it was, I answered the call. "Hello?" I asked. "Good morning Giordana, I hope you remember we have a meeting with my lawyer today." The familiar voice stated from the other side.

"She knew how *you* worked, Marcus. There’s a difference." Diane glanced toward the door. A young woman walked in, holding a tray with a single espresso. She was sharp, wearing a suit that cost more than Marcus’s current weekly allowance. She didn't even look at him. She set the coffee down in front of Diane and stood perfectly still. "This is Elena," Diane said. "She’s a former compliance officer from the London branch. She’s very thorough. She doesn't take bracelets, Marcus. She takes data."

“Enough! Both of you!” She looked exhausted. “Damien, get the list. Katherina, prepare the documents. We need to move fast before this lawsuit gets worse.” Damien let out a cold little laugh. “Fine. I know someone.” Vivian narrowed her eyes. “Who?” “A defense attorney,” Damien said. “Nicholas Hale. Smart. Ruthless. Expensive. He handles… dirty situations. He’ll protect the company.” Katherina looked up not impressed, not intimidated just curious.

I spent hours in a holding cell before I was moved to an interrogation room where a tired-looking woman in a rumpled suit introduced herself as my court-appointed attorney. "Ms. Miller, I'm Rebecca Harmon. I've been assigned to your case,” she said, introducing herself. "This is a mistake," I told her immediately. "I was working with the FBI." She sighed as she opened a thick folder. "According to the evidence, you were playing both sides. The prosecution has a very strong case backing these claims up." "What evidence?" My heart was racing uncontrollably now. "Someone has provided the prosecutors with recordings of every conversation between you and Dante Romano since you moved into his pent

Got us inside. The courtroom was packed. Spectators filled every seat. Media in the press section. I saw Flynn's aunt Diane in the back. Only family member present. His corporate lawyers sat at the defense table in expensive suits, faces grim. The prosecutor was Assistant US Attorney Jennifer Marks. Forties. Sharp. Prepared. Judge Morrison entered. No-nonsense reputation according to Rachel. "All rise." Flynn was brought in wearing a prison jumpsuit. Orange. Humiliating. He saw me in the gallery. His eyes filled with pure hatred.

Three lawyers in expensive suits, all holding thick folders of documentation. He looked at me when we entered and smiled. It was cold. Calculating. The smile of a predator who knew he had the advantage. I forced myself to smile back. Then I sat next to Jaxon and Catherine, and tried not to shake. Dante's lead attorney, Mr. Whitmore, went first. He was good. Polished. Persuasive. He painted a picture of Jaxon as unstable and unfit.

They worked on another floor of the office building where the law firm had its offices, and we shared them with two other such firms, so I basically only knew them as names on interoffice mail envelopes. Diane Elsin had made a reputation for herself as a trial lawyer in her late twenties and early thirties – now forty years old, she practiced mostly as a trial consultant to larger firms. She still cut quite an imposing figure on the rare occasions she actually went to a trial, though – tall, fit, blonde, long legs, cold blue eyes – she was the very image of a ruthless, bloodsucking lawyer.

POV: Selene Castellano Diana answered on the third ring. “I know,” she said. Before Selene could speak. “Hale’s legal team served me this morning. They want my communications with him as part of their own defense strategy.” “Explain that to me.” “Hale’s lawyers are arguing that Diana was feeding information both ways — to Hale and to you.” Avalon’s voice came through the car speaker as he drove. “That Pierce Holdings was effectively participating in an intelligence operation that influenced federal markets.”