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The next morning I met the lawyer they had supposedly arranged for me, Nina Alvarez. I expected her to pressure me into accepting a plea. Instead, she listened carefully while I explained that Madison had planted the drugs and my parents had backed her up.
“Does your car have a dashcam with parking mode?”
My pulse jumped. “Yes.”
Nina moved faster than anyone I had ever seen. Within an hour she had contacted the towing company, requested the dashcam unit from my impounded car, and sent an investigator to my townhouse complex to secure security footage before it could be erased. For the first time since my arrest, I felt something close to hope.