Trevor Guillaume is my name. The city of Boston is my home. And this right here is my story. What a mad world we live in. Every day that goes by, the human race disgusts me a little more. And I'm not just saying that because of my line of work. I am an Assistant District Attorney working for the Suffolk County Prosecutor's Office. It's not an easy job, or a pleasant one, but someone's got to do it. I am twenty seven years old and I absolutely hate my job. When I graduated from Suffolk University's Law School three years ago, this isn't what I saw myself doing.
Life takes you to many funny places sometimes. Many people tell me they think I should count my blessings. I'm a six-foot-one, lean and dark-skinned Haitian-American man living in the city and life has been exciting lately. I recently got engaged to a six-foot-tall, very voluptuous, big-bottomed and quite beautiful, dark-skinned young Black woman of Haitian descent named Mariah Grand-Pierre. We met at a party in the town of Randolph a year and a half ago. Our relationship hasn't been a bed of roses but we're okay. Mariah is a Patrol Supervisor working for the Massachusetts State Police. One of the few Black female State Troopers on the force. She's a smart, driven and ambitious gal. She's also two years older than me and doesn't let me forget it.
Lately, I have been under a lot of pressure. I'm prosecuting a particularly tough case. Janine Mendes, daughter of former Boston Mayor Thad Mendes has shot him dead. Seven times. She's on trial for capital murder. Janine is a tall, elegant, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, bronze-skinned young woman of Irish and Portuguese descent. She has the looks of a supermodel, and a Harvard MBA. She used to work for the United Nations right here in downtown Boston. On weekends, she volunteered to mentor young women at the local YWCA. In the eyes of most folks in the city, she's an angel. Her father, on the other hand, was a shady politician more ruthless than the average Mob Boss. Many wished he were dead during his long reign as the city's mayor. And now that he's gone, many feel the woman responsible for taking him down should be given a medal, not jailed. I have the unfortunate job of prosecuting her.
It's my first big case. If I screw it up, I might as well start looking for a new job. The District Attorney didn't tell me this, of course. She didn't have to. That's just the way the system works. I've won ninety four percent of my criminal cases. Mighty impressive considering this is my first job right out of law school. To say that I am under a ton of pressure would be putting it mildly. Between the stresses of my job and the pressure Mariah puts on me, I feel like I'm starting to break, folks. The Recession has driven many law-abiding men and women in my fair city to become criminals. Last month, I prosecuted and convicted a thirty-year-old soccer mom from Chelsea who robbed a video store in the South End. Two weeks ago, I secured a conviction against a former corrections officer who robbed a gas station.
Those are the hardcore criminals I usually secure convictions against, folks. Not exactly the most lethal people out there. It is any wonder that I absolutely hate my job? Seriously. If we weren't in the middle of a recession, I would definitely quit. I hate what I do. I hate what I've become. I feel like the angel of Death. Nobody is ever happy to see me. Not the families of the people I prosecute. Not my fellow prosecutors. Not the cops whose team I'm supposedly part of, since we're all law enforcement personnel. Can you think of anyone who is happy to see a prosecutor? Me neither.
My parents constantly tell me how proud they are of me. My father, Thomas Guillaume came to the city of Boston from his native Republic of Haiti when he was twenty years old. Back in 1983. He attended Boston College for undergraduate studies, and later went to Boston College Law School. He eventually became a tax attorney and did pretty well for himself. Enough to buy us a nice house in Milton and send me to private school. As for my mother, Catherine Beaulieu Guillaume, she teaches music at one of the local public schools. I'm their youngest son and the most accomplished. My older brother Andy is a corrections officer. He hasn't talked to me since I convicted one of his former co-workers for a crime he committed. I don't choose the cases I prosecute. The District Attorney sends them my way. I am but a cog in the machine that is the American Criminal Justice System. I have very little in the way of real power. I'm under too much pressure from all over. And if I don't get it under control, I'm going to break.
Lately, I've been seeing this tall, good-looking Black man named Jacob Jules. Like me, the brother is Haitian-American. He's a criminal defense attorney I met while prosecuting one of the few cases I ever lost. I was impressed with his talents in the courtroom, and even asked him for a drink after the trial was over. He took me up on my offer, and we've bonded. Jacob is a successful, sexy Black gentleman. He has a son named Jason whose mother is a former college girlfriend of his. They split up years ago but share joint custody of their son. He's also bisexual, though you'd never guess this about him until he chooses to tell you about himself. He used to play football for Bridgewater State College, back in the day. From the moment we met, I liked him immensely. He's fine. He's smart. He's generous. And he's good company. We have a terrific time together.
