“Listen, I texted your dad,” he told me. “He’s on the way, Johnny, lad. He’ll help us.” “Good,” I replied, tone clipped, as I tried to catch my breath and process this. “I’m going to need him to take my case when I go down for murder.” “Think he’ll represent me, too?” Gibsie asked. Shrugging, he added, “When you’re embarking on hell, it’s always good to have a buddy.”
