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MidReal Story
My Name Is Mohamed Abdi
Scenario:this is in new york city about laws and lawyers and prosecutors and drama and fights and alcohol and drug use and abuse and corruption and fights and temper and secrets and lies and fraud and parties and suicide and justice and schemes and lawsuits and threats and fraud and impersonating and illegal and mentor and friends and love and sex and nudity and office romance and my name is mohamed abdi and i am 24 years old and i have dark skin and i am a new prosecutor and i never went to law school i am a fraud and i could go to prison if people found out and snitched and i was hired on a law firm named winters and johnson and smith i got hired by damian johnson and he is 34 years old and he is and self obsessed and narcissistic, egotistical, and driven and he makes a point of depending on no one and getting his fulfilment from ambition, material success, and expression of his own worthand and damian found out i never went to law school and he hired me anyway because of my smarts and memory and he would mentor and protect me and his assistant emma richards is a know it all she thinks she knows about everything but she protects me and harvey and the other owners of this firm is jessica winters she is 40 years old and she is logans and damians boss and ceo of the firm and logan smith is a 38 years old evil ruthless prosecutor he loves making people sweat and prove he is the boss but damian is better than him in the court and he earns 1 million dollars when logan earns 900.000 dollars and i am extremely clever both in test-taking and the street-smart senses and i have Eidetic memory meaning i remember everything i have read or seen or heard and my parents layla and abdinur died in a car accident and by a drunk driver named oliver thompson and he got scot free by the defence lawyer named oscar jones got him not guilty charge and i was raised by my grand father hassan abdi he has dark skin and he is 67 years old and i became attracted and in love with a para legal at the firm a asian woman named monica hoang and she is 25 years old and she has a belly button piercing and monica will move mountains for the sake of her career. Her hard-working mentality, however, rarely gives her time to relax. She is so caught up in what she is supposed to do that she rarely checks up on herself Personality driven and caring. monica puts her heart in everything she does, proving the impossible in many situations.and she will always manages to prove that she is limitless time and time again. and damian is the only person who knows i never went to law school and this story is named suits
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Mohamed Abdi
He is a 24yearold prosecutor at Winters and Johnson, despite never attending law school. He is cunning, charismatic, and impulsive. Mohamed was raised by his grandfather after his parents died in a car accident. He has an Eidetic memory and often uses this skill to his advantage in court. His relationship with his grandfather was close, and he felt responsible for his wellbeing. Mohamed's desire for recognition and ambition led him to accept a job at a prestigious law firm, where he formed a complicated friendship with Damian Johnson.
Damian Johnson
He is the lead prosecutor at Winters and Johnson, hired by Mohamed's grandfather's law firm. He is ambitious, egotistical, and manipulative. Damian values prestige and status, often indulging in luxury items and highend gadgets. Despite his arrogant nature, he recognizes Mohamed's intelligence and hires him as his assistant. Damian tasks Mohamed with researching cases and preparing presentations, relying on his exceptional memory skills. Their working relationship is complex, with Damian both relying on Mohamed and treating him as a tool to achieve his goals.
Emma Richards
She is the paralegal at Winters and Johnson tasked with managing the office. She is nosy, uptight, and judgmental. Emma often questions Mohamed's qualifications and treats him coldly due to her ignorance of his true circumstances. She is often at odds with Mohamed, particularly over minor office matters. Her attitude stems from insecurity and a need to assert control over her workspace. Despite her superficial nature, Emma plays a minor but annoying role in the office dynamics.
I am 24 years old, and I am a prosecutor.
Yeah, you heard that right.
I am a prosecutor even though I never went to law school.
I know it sounds crazy, but bear with me and I will tell you how I became a prosecutor without attending law school.
My name is Mohamed Abdi, and I am from New York City.
I was born and raised in Queens, New York, with my parents, Layla and Abdinur Abdi.
They were both from Somalia, and they immigrated to the United States for a better life.
Unfortunately, they didn't get to live their lives to the fullest.
They died in a car accident caused by a drunk driver named Oliver Thompson.
Oliver ran the red light and smashed into my parents' car.
They died instantly, leaving me all by myself at the age of 10.
The worst part is that Oliver Thompson got away scot-free.
I bumped into him on the street a few days ago.
He was in a hurry, and I was walking home from the library.
He bumped into me and apologized.
I told him it was okay, and he introduced himself as Damian Johnson.
I told him my name is Mohamed Abdi, and he asked me what I did for a living.
I told him I was still in school, and he asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.
I told him I wanted to be a prosecutor, and he smiled.
He said that was a great choice, and then he asked me if I knew anything about law.
I told him I knew a little bit, and he started quizzing me on some legal terms.
I answered every question correctly, and he was impressed.
He asked me how I knew so much about law without attending law school, and I told him that I have an eidetic memory.
He asked me what that meant, and I told him that it means that I can remember everything I read or see.
He said that was amazing, and then he asked me if I would like to work for his company as a prosecutor. He told me that his company was called Winters & Johnson, and they were one of the best law firms in New York City.
He said that they needed someone with my skills to help them win their cases, and he offered me the job on the spot.
I accepted the job offer, and he told me to come to their office tomorrow morning to fill out the paperwork.
I went home and told my foster parents about my new job, and they were very happy for me.
They asked me how I got the job without attending law school, and I told them about my eidetic memory.
They said that they were proud of me, and they wished me good luck on my first day of work.
The next day, I woke up early and got dressed in a suit and tie.
I took the subway to Manhattan and walked to the Winters & Johnson building.
It was a tall skyscraper with a beautiful view of the city.
I walked into the lobby and saw a receptionist sitting at a desk.
She looked up at me and smiled. "Good morning," she said.
"Good morning," I replied.
"Can I help you with something?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
"I am here to see Damian Johnson."
"Okay," she said.
"Let me call his office."
She picked up the phone and dialed a number.
As I waited, my heart raced with the realization that this was the beginning of a new chapter in my life.
I step out of the elevator onto the 50th floor, gripping my leather briefcase tightly in my hand.
The glass-walled office stretches before me, a bustling hub of activity filled with sharply dressed professionals.
The sound of keyboards clacking and muffled conversations fills the air.
As I scan the room, my eyes land on Damian Johnson, who is standing by his corner office.
He catches my gaze and smiles, striding towards me with purposeful steps.
His Italian shoes click against the marble floor as he approaches.
"Good morning, Mohamed," he says, extending his hand for a firm handshake.
"Welcome to Winters & Johnson."
"Thank you," I reply, trying to hide my nervousness.
Damian leads me through the office, nodding to various colleagues as we pass by their desks.
We approach a cluster of people gathered near the conference room, and Damian clears his throat to get their attention.
The group turns to face us, and I notice a man with piercing blue eyes and a chiseled jawline.
He is dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, exuding an air of confidence.
Damian notices my gaze and follows it to the man.
"Ah, that's Logan Smith, my partner," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of rivalry.
Logan extends his hand, and I shake it firmly.
"Welcome to Winters & Johnson," he says, his voice smooth but laced with skepticism.
I sense a flicker of tension between Damian and Logan, but it is quickly masked by their professional demeanor.
Damian leads me away from the group, guiding me towards a large wooden door at the far end of the office.
We enter a spacious room with a massive mahogany desk at its center.
A woman sits behind the desk, her long blonde hair cascading down her back.
She looks up as we enter, her piercing green eyes assessing me intently. "Jessica Winters," Damian introduces her, "the CEO of Winters & Johnson."
Jessica rises from her seat and extends her hand, her smile polite but distant.
"Welcome to the team, Mohamed," she says, her voice dripping with authority.
I shake her hand firmly, trying to gauge her personality behind the façade of professionalism.
Damian leads me out of Jessica's office and back into the main area of the firm.
We approach a cubicle in the corner, where a young woman is typing away on her computer.
Damian taps on the cubicle wall to get her attention, and she looks up with a friendly smile.
"This is your workstation," Damian says, gesturing to the cubicle next to hers.
"Thank you," I reply, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as I take in my new surroundings.
Damian leans in closer, his voice taking on a serious tone.
"Remember, Mohamed, your secret must remain hidden. If anyone discovers that you are not a licensed lawyer, it could mean prison time for both of us."
I nod solemnly, understanding the gravity of our situation.
"But don't worry," Damian continues, his voice filled with reassurance.
"I will protect you at all costs. You are under my wing now." I settle into my cubicle and begin organizing my workspace.
I adjust the height of my chair and position my computer monitor at a comfortable angle.
As I boot up my computer, I notice a stack of files on my desk.
I open the top file and find a DVD labeled "Security Footage."
I insert the DVD into my computer and watch as the grainy video plays on my screen.
The footage shows a corner store robbery gone wrong, ending in murder.
The suspect, a young Latino man named Manuel Rodriguez, is seen waving a gun at the cashier.
As the elderly store owner reaches beneath the counter, Manuel fires twice in panic.
I watch the video multiple times, studying every detail.
I then open another file containing crime scene photos.
I spread them out on my desk, examining the blood spatter patterns and bullet trajectories.
I take detailed notes on each photo, using my knowledge of forensic science to piece together the events of the crime.
As I study the evidence, something about Manuel's terrified expression in the security footage nags at me.
It seems out of place with the brutality of the crime.
I hear a knock on my cubicle wall and look up to see Damian standing there, a thick case file in his hand.
"First case, kid," he says, tossing the file onto my desk.
I glance at the file, then back at Damian, my curiosity piqued.
"Why does Manuel look so scared in the footage?" I ask, pointing to the screen.
Damian's eyes narrow slightly, and he leans in closer. "That's what we need to find out," he replies, his voice low.
I sit at my desk, replaying the security footage of Manuel Rodriguez's crime.
I scrutinize every frame, focusing on Manuel's terrified expression.
Something catches my eye - a shadow moving in the background just before the shooting.
I pause the video and zoom in on the shadow.
It appears to be a figure lurking near the store's entrance.
I jot down notes about the shadow's movements and its possible connection to Manuel's fear.
I decide to visit the crime scene to compare my observations with the physical layout.
As I prepare to leave, a sudden realization hits me: this shadow might be the key to unraveling the truth behind Manuel's actions.
I step out of the office, coat in hand, and make my way to the subway.
The train ride to the crime scene is crowded and noisy, but I focus on the shadow from the video.
When I arrive at Manuel Rodriguez's corner store, I take a moment to compare the layout with the footage.
I walk to where the shadow appeared, noting the angle of the entrance and the lighting.
A passerby bumps into me, snapping me back to reality.
I jot down observations about potential hiding spots and escape routes.
I return to the office and head to the meeting room where Damian is speaking with a key witness.
She describes the events leading up to the robbery, including Manuel's actions.
I take detailed notes, focusing on her description of the shadow's movements.
Damian listens intently, occasionally nodding at my questions to the witness.
After she leaves, Damian confirms we have enough to arrest Manuel.
But I can't shake the feeling that the shadow holds the real story.
I step into the courtroom, wearing a sharp suit, with Damian by my side.
He nods, signaling for me to lead the case against Manuel Rodriguez.
I approach the podium, facing Manuel, his lawyer Tom Howard, the jury, and his family.
Judge Mary Gardner presides over the trial.
I present the security footage, pointing out Manuel's terrified expression and the mysterious shadow.
I argue that Manuel shot the store manager and robbed the cashier.
As I speak, I keep glancing at the shadow on the screen.
Damian watches intently, assessing my performance.
"Objection, Your Honor," Tom Howard interjects, rising from his seat.
Judge Gardner nods, gesturing for him to continue.
"The defense asserts that the shadow indicates another presence, potentially exonerating my client."
After court adjourns, I corner Manuel in the holding cell for questioning.
He's trembling, eyes darting to the guard nearby.
When I mention the shadow figure, his facade cracks.
Through whispered words, Manuel reveals Marco Juarez was with him that night - not as an accomplice, but as his secret lover.
They'd been meeting at the store after hours.
Manuel's voice shakes as he explains how terrified he is of his conservative family discovering his sexuality.
I notice his hands fidgeting with a worn photo in his pocket.
Standing before Judge Gardner, I present the newly uncovered evidence about Marco Juarez.
I play the enhanced security footage, pointing out the shadow's movements that match Marco's build and gait.
Manuel's family gasps when I reveal their secret relationship.
His mother crosses herself, while his father storms out of the courtroom.
I methodically lay out how Manuel and Marco planned to rob the store for escape money, though the killing wasn't premeditated.
The jury watches intently as I show frame-by-frame analysis proving Marco's presence.
When I finish my closing argument, Manuel slumps in his chair, avoiding his family's stares.
Damian leans over and whispers, "Do you think this will sway the jury?"
I nod slightly, keeping my eyes on the jurors.
"It's not just about the crime anymore; it's about understanding why it happened," I reply softly.
The jury deliberates, and Judge Gardner enters with the verdict.
"Manuel Rodriguez, you are hereby sentenced to 12 years for armed robbery and murder," she declares.
I glance at Damian, who nods in approval from his seat.
Manuel's family weeps quietly, his mother clutching a rosary while his father remains absent.
I watch as Manuel, handcuffed, is led away by the bailiff, his eyes downcast and defeated.
I gather my notes and evidence, feeling a mix of relief and unease about the outcome.
As I exit the courtroom, Damian claps me on the back firmly.
"Good job, kid. I knew I was right to hire you," he says with a grin.
I sort through my file papers, walking down the hallway when I bump into someone.
"Hi," I say, still distracted by the papers in my hand.
"Are you crazy? You were looking at your files while walking!" she exclaims.
I look up and see a beautiful Asian woman with long black hair and brown eyes.
"I'm sorry," I reply, finally noticing her.
"My name is Mohamed Abdi."
"Nice to meet you, Mohamed. I'm a paralegal here," she responds with a smile.
"Oh, nice to meet you too. I'm a prosecutor here," I reply, feeling a bit shy.
She looks at me with a smile and says, "Well, I hope you're not too busy. Maybe we can grab coffee sometime?"
I nod and say, "Sure, that would be great."
She smiles again and says, "Well, I should get going. Nice meeting you, Mohamed."
I approach Monica Hoang at the office coffee machine.
"Hi, Monica," I say, trying to sound casual.
"Hi," she replies, her tone cool.
"Are you busy?"
"Not really," she says, pouring herself a cup of coffee.
"I was just thinking about what you said the other day," I say, trying to break the ice.
"Oh yeah? What about it?"
"Well, I was wondering if you'd like to grab coffee sometime. Maybe we could talk about movies or music or something," I suggest.
She looks at me for a moment before responding.
"I'm not really sure. I'm pretty busy with work and stuff," she says, her expression guarded.
"Oh, okay. No worries," I reply, trying not to sound disappointed.
"But if you ever want to hang out, just let me know. I'm always up for grabbing coffee or seeing a movie or something," I add.
She nods slightly and says, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
I smile and say, "Cool. Well, I'll see you around then."
She nods again and turns back to her coffee, leaving me feeling a bit uncertain about how things went.
I walk away from the coffee machine, feeling a bit deflated.
I can't help but wonder if Monica is playing hard to get or if she's just not interested in me.
I decide to try again another time and see if I can break through her reserve.
I walk back to my desk and sit down, trying to focus on my work. A few days later, I see Monica at the office again.
This time, I decide to try a different approach.
"Hey Monica," I say as she walks by my desk.
"Oh hi Mohamed," she replies with a smile.
"How are you doing today?"
"I'm good thanks," she says, stopping to chat for a moment.
"So what are you working on?" she asks curiously.
"Just some paperwork for a case I'm working on," I reply nonchalantly.
"Oh cool. What kind of case is it?" she asks with interest.
"It's a criminal case," I explain briefly.
"Oh wow. That sounds intense," she says with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah it can be," I admit with a shrug.
"But it's also kind of exciting. You get to see justice being served and all that."
"Yeah that makes sense," she says thoughtfully.
"So do you have any fun plans for the weekend?" she asks after a moment of silence.
"Not really, just catching up on some reading," I reply, trying to sound more interesting than I feel.
"Reading? Anything good?" she asks, her curiosity piqued.
"Yeah, actually, it's a mystery novel," I say, hoping to steer the conversation towards common interests.