I Defended A Homeless Pregnant Woman For Armed Robbery. She Went Into Labor Seconds Before The Jury Read Her Guilty Verdict. Now The Feds Are Waiting Outside Her Delivery Room With Shackles.
Lawyers, what happened during your case that made international news?
I was locking up my office at midnight when I heard footsteps running behind me. I turned around. A pregnant woman was sprinting toward me, huge stomach, crying hard. She looked like she was about to collapse.
“Please,”
she grabbed my arm.
“Please, you’re a lawyer right? I saw the sign. I need help.”
“Ma’am, it’s midnight. Call my office tomorrow.”
“My trial is tomorrow morning,”
she was sobbing.
“I’m 8 and 1/2 months pregnant. They want me to go to prison. They’ll take my baby away forever.”
I stopped.
“What’s the charge?”
“Armed robbery. I stole baby formula and diapers from a store. I’m homeless. I had a gun. I was desperate.”
She could barely breathe.
“My public defender says I should plead guilty. 3 years in prison. But if I go to prison, I will lose my baby. He’s the only thing I have to live for.”
I looked at her stomach, then at my watch. The trial was in 9 hours.
“What’s your name?”
“Nadia Reeves.”
“Come inside. We need to talk.”
We spent all night in my office where Nadia told me everything. I read her case file and saw the security footage showing everything. This looked like a certain loss, but I couldn’t just let a pregnant woman lose her child.
“I’ll represent you. Trial starts at 9:00 a.m. Get some sleep.”
The next morning, we walked into the courthouse together. Nadia could barely walk; her stomach was huge. She looked terrified.
The prosecutor saw us coming and smiled like he’d already won. The trial started. The prosecutor played the security footage first. Clear as day, Nadia pointing a loaded gun at the store clerk’s face, taking money and baby supplies.
The jury watched in silence, already deciding she was guilty. Then the store clerk testified. He was shaking.
“She put the gun against my forehead. Right here,”
he pointed.
“She said, ‘Give me everything or I’ll shoot.’ I thought she was going to kill me.”
I stood up fast.
“Your Honor, my client was desperate. She was homeless and pregnant.”
The prosecutor cut me off.
“Motive doesn’t matter, Your Honor. A crime is a crime.”
Judge Brener agreed.
“Overruled. Sit down, counselor.”
I tried again. I wanted to show the jury the full extent of Nadia’s situation: how she had no money, how she was living in her car, how they would have done the same in her shoes. But the prosecutor stood up. He was smirking now.
“Desperation doesn’t excuse armed robbery, Your Honor. If it did, we’d have to let half the criminals in this city go free.”
Three jurors nodded. I was losing.
Then the prosecutor dropped his bomb. He showed Nadia’s internet history. 3 days before the robbery, she’d searched pawn shops, store hours, and how much baby items sell for.
“This proves she planned it,”
the prosecutor said.
“This wasn’t desperation; this was a calculated crime.”
I jumped up.
“She was trying to find ways to get money for her baby.”
The prosecutor looked at me without blinking.
“Planning a crime while pregnant doesn’t make it less of a crime.”
