Chapter 2

I thought that would be the end of it.

To my surprise, Brenda showed up in the SnapChat group chat the very next evening.

She tagged me and dropped a long voice memo. Tapping it, her tearful voice echoed through the speaker:

"Neighbors, listen to this and tell me if it's fair! I went to Lawyer Harper for advice on child support, and what did she do? She immediately hit me with 'there are risks,' 'you might not win,' 'you might not see a dime!' What was she hinting at? That I need to grease her palms? People like us can barely afford groceries, where are we supposed to get money for kickbacks? She preaches about free consultations, but she just looks down on poor folks and won't actually help us!"

The chat went dead silent for a few seconds.

Then, a few of the more reasonable neighbors stepped in.

[Brenda, that’s not fair. Brenda, think about how much Harper has done for us. She’s never asked for a cent. There’s really no such thing as a guaranteed win in court.]

[Yeah, Lawyer Harper helped me draft that labor dispute filing last time. Didn't charge a dime and even covered the printing fees herself. A lawyer can't control what the judge decides.]

Brenda fired back instantly with rapid voice notes:

"What do you guys know? She helped you with tiny favors; mine is a major issue! If she truly wanted to help, she'd guarantee a win!"

"I did my research—she works at a legit downtown law firm! Why do her paying clients always win? But when it comes to us poor folks, suddenly nothing works and everything's a risk?"

"She treats people based on their wallets! If it's free, she half-asses it!"

Right then, another neighbor named Joe chimed in:

"Brenda has a point. Lawyer Harper, if you really care about us, could you sign an agreement with us? If a case is lost because of your poor guidance, you cover all the resulting losses. That way, we can actually have some peace of mind."

Staring at my phone screen, I couldn't believe my eyes.

Free legal advice, and I had to cover their financial losses if they lost? Where on earth does that make sense?

Before I could type a reply, Brenda jumped back in:

"Yes, yes, yes! Joe, that's a brilliant idea! An agreement is exactly what we need! You guarantee a win, and if we lose, you pay up! That's the only way to prove you're sincere!"

Suppressing my anger, I sent a level-headed message to the group:

"Everyone, lawyers are strictly prohibited by professional ethics and bar association rules from guaranteeing case outcomes. Pro bono advice is public service work meant to provide legal knowledge and procedural guidance. It cannot replace formal representation, and it certainly cannot absorb the financial risks of your lawsuits. Please understand."

My message was like a stone dropped into the deep sea. No one answered.

Yet an invisible, suffocating pressure was brewing beneath the surface.

Over the next few days, the mood in the group shifted drastically.

Fewer people tagged me with questions. The rare inquiries were tentative and guarded.

Meanwhile, Brenda and Joe were hyperactive. They began rallying the chat and drafted a so-called "Legal Aid Performance Agreement."

The core term: If any case guided or consulted by me resulted in a loss, I would be liable for all court fees and expected financial damages.

They even started a sign-up sheet in the chat, demanding that I sign it.

What broke my heart was seeing a few neighbors—people whose filings I had refined for hours on my own weekends, organizing their evidence step by step—quietly adding their names to the list.

I had treated them with genuine goodwill, only to be met with entitled demands and an abusive contract designed to trap me.

I laid it down directly in the chat: "This agreement severely violates legal ethics and is fundamentally unfair. I will never sign it. Pro bono services rely on mutual trust. Once trust is gone, there is no foundation left."

Brenda pounced instantly: "See! I told you she has a guilty conscience! She won't take responsibility! Her 'free service' is just for clout!"

Joe added sarcastically: "Lawyer Harper, people just have no choice. We're poor, and we can't afford to lose. If you weren't confident, you should've said so earlier instead of stringing us along."

I muted the group notifications, feeling a deep, hollow exhaustion.