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.

I looked at Nadia, who was clutching her belly, wincing in pain like she knew something was coming. I tried calling an expert witness, Dr. Dalman. She studies poverty and homeless mothers. She explained how Nadia’s situation left her with no other options, but the prosecutor destroyed her on cross-examination.

“Dr. Dalman, was what Nadia did a crime? Yes or no?”

“Yes, but…”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you, that’s all.”

He looked at the jury.

“Don’t let emotion cloud the facts.”

The jury went to decide. They came back in 20 minutes. That’s the fastest I’d ever seen. Nadia was doubled over in pain next to me. She knew we’d lost.

Judge Brener walked in.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

The judge opened the paper.

“In the case of the people versus Nadia Reeves, we find the defendant…”

Nadia suddenly screamed. She grabbed her stomach and fell backward. Her chair crashed to the floor.

“I’m giving birth!”

she screamed.

The prosecutor jumped up.

“Your Honor, she’s faking it! She’s trying to manipulate the jury.”

But Nadia’s water had already exploded everywhere, gallons all over the floor. She was crying and gasping. The prosecutor went completely still. All the color drained from his face.

“Get an ambulance!”

Judge Brener screamed.

Paramedics burst in 10 minutes later while I held her hand. They loaded Nadia onto a stretcher. She was screaming now, in pain, terrified. She grabbed my jacket.

“You’re the only one who showed me kindness. Please don’t leave me.”

I climbed into the ambulance with her.

“I’m not leaving you.”

The doors slammed shut, sirens blaring. We raced toward the hospital. Nadia was squeezing my hands so hard I thought my bones would break. She was having contractions every minute.

“I’m scared,”

she cried.

“What happens to my baby?”

“We’re getting you help. Just breathe.”

I coached her using techniques I’d learned from my wife’s delivery.

We pulled up to the emergency entrance. I started helping the paramedics rush her inside. That’s when I saw them: the prosecutor and six federal agents in suits right behind us.

“Stop!”

The lead agent cut in front of us and blocked the hospital doors.

“Nadia Reeves needs to be handcuffed to the bed before she gives birth. She’s a convicted felon.”

“Are you heartless or just stupid?”

I yelled, trying to shove past him. The six agents instantly grabbed my shoulders and held me back. The prosecutor stepped forward.

“She’s getting cuffed to the bed, and when she gives birth, we’re taking that baby and sending her to prison.”

I looked back at Nadia on the stretcher, crying in pain and frustration. I yanked my shoulders free from the agents’ grip and shoved past the lead agent’s outstretched arm. I planted myself directly between him and Nadia’s stretcher. My voice dropped low and steady.

“If he touched my client before I reached Judge Brener, I would personally have his badge reviewed for interfering with emergency medical care.”

The agent’s hand moved toward his radio. He hesitated. The paramedics started rolling Nadia toward the doors anyway. Everyone had to move or get run over. The agents scattered to the sides. The prosecutor jumped back. We pushed through the automatic doors into the emergency entrance.

Hospital staff swarmed around Nadia’s stretcher instantly. Nurses checked her vital signs. A doctor asked rapid questions about her contractions: how far apart, how long, when did her water break. Nadia could barely answer through the pain.

I pulled out my phone and speed-dialed Judge Brener’s emergency line. My hands were shaking. The prosecutor followed us inside with his phone already out. He was clearly calling his own people for backup. The six federal agents formed a wall near the automatic doors. They positioned themselves like they were guarding a maximum-security prisoner instead of a woman in active labor.

Judge Brener answered on the fourth ring. His voice sounded tired and annoyed; it was past midnight. I explained fast.