Book Review: The Trials of Lila Dalton by L. J. Shepherd

When our amnesiac heroine comes to, she realizes that she’s standing in a British courtroom.  She quickly learns that her name is Lila Dalton and that she’s the barrister in charge of defending the man sitting in the dock. Unfortunately, she has no idea what her client is accused of, who he is, or how they got to where they are now. 

After successfully stalling for time, Lila uses her not-inconsiderable intelligence to gather information about her circumstances. The details, however, only make her feel even more anxious about her situation. Her client is a Nazi wannabe who’s been accused of bombing Abbott House, a Home Office building in Birmingham. The prosecution has plenty of incriminating video evidence of him doing the deed, as well as reams of information found at his home on his hateful motivations. Lila would have her work cut out for her, even if her memories of everything before this first day of trial were intact. Handicapped by her amnesia, she’s forced to learn as she goes, all while scrambling to hide her sudden disability. She knows enough, after all, to want to avoid accidentally torpedoing her career should her memories return as abruptly as they left her.

It’s that same ambition that drives her to do her best for her client, odious as he is. But that isn’t enough for a mysterious stranger, who’s started leaving weird messages for her both in court and at the hotel where she’s staying for the duration of the trial. Get her client off of all charges, the messages say, or face potentially dire consequences. She realizes that her tormentor isn’t joking when she’s suddenly detained on suspicion of murder and must turn to her own solicitor for help. He comes to her aid but with no great enthusiasm. Stung, she admonishes him:

“I thought you were on my side,” I say.

 

He chuckles darkly. “That’s what all clients think, isn’t it? That we defend them because we’re on their side, because we believe them. We both know it’s not our job to believe them; it’s our job to represent them.”

 

“You don’t believe me?”

 

“How many of the fuckers we represent do you actually think are innocent?”

Though she’s eventually let go for lack of evidence, Lila soon finds herself spiraling into a strange world of conspiracies and psyops. It doesn’t help that the island that she’s found herself on is deeply weird. The remote location and its insular community have little time for the officers of the court who come through in order to carry out the Crown’s business, and they treat her with a barely concealed disdain. Her amnesia makes it so that she doesn’t even understand why this trial is being held here instead of on the mainland, especially given the location of the crime. An unlikely ally spells it out for her when she asks:

“Humor me. Why would a government want to offshore foreign criminals, and–what was it?”

 

“Domestic terrorists.”

 

“Yes. Why? Isn’t it more expensive to do it over here?”

 

“It is, but it’s worth it for the optics. The public hates the idea of people from abroad coming to Britain, benefiting from our NHS, our welfare system, and then betraying that trust by committing crimes, no matter how petty, no matter the mitigating circumstances. Prison, in those circumstances, isn’t enough for some people. So, the government decided to offshore them as an extra punishment.”

 

The UK has an island dedicated to imprisoning foreign nationals? Something about this strikes me as odd. My experience of the world is of an unsympathetic place where differences are rooted out and punished, but for the UK to treat foreign criminals as the same as terrorists seems particularly warped. 

As Lila works to regain her memories and defend her client, she’ll be pitted against the strange goings on of her temporary home, as alliances shift and buried secrets work their way back to the surface. Someone is determined to make Lila look like a murderer, even as she’s forced to defend a man she can’t stand. Will Lila be able to figure out what’s going on and bring a shadowy killer to justice, or will she become yet another victim lost to this uncaring island?

I learned so much about British jurisprudence while reading this legal thriller with a speculative bent. Lila is a terrific barrister, whose poise despite being thrust into unthinkable circumstances, is exemplary. I loved following along as she fought against an unfair prosecution and grappled with her own conscience about defending an avowed terrorist.

The speculative nature of the thriller didn’t impress me quite as much, though it was at least presented in a more convincing manner than I’ve read in other, more famous books of its type. The narrative is disjointed, of necessity, but sticking with it will provide readers with a fulfilling tale of legal maneuvers and philosophical ponderings. I still don’t understand the significance of the Eighth, but found the circular nature of the story quite satisfying overall, even as I did feel a sneaking sympathy for those people, fictional or otherwise, who are caught in the eternal hamster wheel of ensuring that justice is served as best as humanly possible.