Chapter 9 – The First Step
Last week of January 2012 – Los Angeles, California
That week carried a silent, almost melancholic weight. It was the last one before Gustavo would head back to Cambridge and face another semester of the demanding routine of Harvard Law School. But, despite the countdown, he didn't waste a single minute.
In fact, he was determined to leave something of himself before he left. Something more concrete than nostalgia.
And that "something" had a name, a color, a purpose: Imperfect Haley — the small fashion brand that he and Hailey had dreamed up together while sitting on the floor of her bedroom, among scissors, fabrics, and magazine inspirations. Now, the idea needed form, structure. And Gustavo was the right guy for it.
"Okay, let's start from the beginning," said Gustavo, sitting in front of a laptop in the Dunphys' living room.
Haley was on the other side of the table, with a notebook full of notes, her hair tied in an improvised bun and her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
"We've already chosen the name. The domain is free. The Instagram account already exists, and I made a bio with emojis and everything."
Gustavo arched an eyebrow.
"Emojis?"
"Yeah, huh. Do you think Chanel has emojis?"
"No. But Chanel doesn't have your personality either."
She smiled.
"See? You understand me."
"Always," he said, typing something on the laptop. "Now let's get to the less glamorous parts: the CNPJ, the classification as an individual microentrepreneur, the e-commerce platform, and of course, the accounting services."
"I'm already starting to panic."
"Take a breath. You have help."
"Are you going to take care of all of this?"
"Not exactly. But I'm going to organize everything so that you have control."
He turned the laptop so she could see the screen. There was the platform he had chosen: simple, intuitive, with the visual identity they had created together — pastel tones, a logo designed by a friend of Gustavo's in Boston, with the name "Imperfect Haley" written in casual but elegant letters.
"This is... beautiful," she said, touching her fingers to the screen, almost moved.
"The store is still in beta mode. The first products you customized have already been registered. I put a limit of 20 units in stock, just to gauge the reception."
"And if no one buys it?"
"Then we'll adjust it. But I bet it will."
Later, sitting on the porch with their glasses of iced tea, Hailey pulled out her phone and showed the brand's profile on Instagram.
"It has 47 followers. Nothing big yet, but I've already posted behind-the-scenes footage of the jacket customization and a poll about colors for a new t-shirt."
Gustavo scanned the feed with attentive eyes.
— It's cohesive. Aesthetic. And it has your face. Great start.
She laughed.
— I need to learn to speak like you.
— You just need to keep being you. Authenticity is your greatest asset.
She was silent for a few seconds, looking at her cell phone.
— I would never have done this on my own.
— But now you did. I just gave you a little push.
— It's not just that. You didn't let me give up before I even tried.
The next day, Gustavo took Haley to the modern building in downtown Los Angeles that housed the headquarters of Silva Investimentos, the financial company he had helped build when he was still a teenager. His father, Carlos Silva, was now the CEO, and had become a close friend of the Dunphys since they moved to the city.
— My father will help you with all the accounting. Tax returns, invoicing, spreadsheets... all that stuff that seems like Greek at first — Gustavo said in the elevator, adjusting the collar of his shirt.
— Won't your father be upset?
— He already considers you part of the family. And what's more: he loves supporting people who have the courage to undertake.
The receptionist led them to a small, well-lit meeting room. Minutes later, Carlos Silva entered, a middle-aged man with a well-trimmed beard, rectangular glasses, and a welcoming smile.
— Haley! — he said, opening his arms for a light hug. — We're finally talking about business together!
— Hi, Mr. Silva. Thank you so much for having me — she said, a little nervous.
— No "sir". Call me Carlos. And you're brave for entering this world. Entrepreneurship is like planting a tree: it takes time, but one day it will give you shade and fruit.
She smiled, delighted by the metaphor.
— Well, Gustavo explained it to me a little. I just hope I don't mess up.
— You'll make mistakes. And you'll get it right. The important thing is to know when to stop, when to insist, and when to ask for help. And now you have us," he said, pulling up a chair. "Let's start with the basics: expense plan and sales projections for the first three months."
For the next hour, Haley listened, took notes, asked questions. Carlos was didactic, patient, and even funny.
"If a customer returns a sweatshirt because the dog ate it, you don't have to refund it," he joked.
"Unless the dog is really cute," Gustavo added, laughing.
At the end of the meeting, Haley shook Carlos's hand with a smile.
— Thank you for believing in me.
— I don't believe it. I'm sure of it — he said. — You have something rare: identity and passion. Now you just have to let it grow.
In the car, on the way home, Haley stared out the window in silence for a while, taking it all in.
— I never imagined that one day I would have... like, a company.
— And look: you do. It's happening.
— Promise that even when you're far away, you'll keep helping me?
— I'll never be truly far away. Just a click away.
— Promise?
Gustavo smiled and held out his hand. She shook it firmly.
— I promise.
On the last night before the trip, they sat in Gustavo's backyard, where fairy lights were strung between the trees — a makeshift decoration his mother had put up to celebrate her son's return, and now his farewell.
Sitting on beach chairs, they talked until late.
"In two days, you'll be the Harvard genius again," Haley said.
"And you'll be the CEO of a promising brand."
"CEO sounds so… grown-up."
"Welcome to real life."
"Gustavo… thank you. For everything."
He turned his face, looking into her eyes with deep sincerity.
"You deserve all of this. And much more. Believe me."
The next day, at the airport, the mood was one of farewell, but with a different atmosphere than the previous year. There were no more tears or insecurity—there was maturity, complicity, and hope.
Haley hugged him tightly before he boarded the plane.
"Go, Dr. Silva. You're going to change the world."
"And you're going to make it more beautiful, one look at a time."
She laughed, her eyes brimming with tears.
"I'll see you on my store's Instagram, okay?" — You bet. I've even turned on notifications.
As the plane took off, Haley received a notification on her phone: a like on the brand's latest post.
It was from Gustavo's profile: @gustavsilvalaw.
Chapter 10 – In the Lion's Mouth
February 2012 – Harvard Law School, Cambridge, Massachusetts
The snow was falling slowly that morning. White flakes danced in the air, landing softly on the ancient cobblestones of the campus. Harvard looked like a framed portrait—beautiful, historic, imposing. But behind the wooden windows and red brick walls, the intellectual battle was beginning again.
Gustavo stepped off the bus from the student residence hall, his backpack firmly on his back, his scarf wrapped around his neck, and his gaze fixed on the entrance to Austin Hall. It was the first week of the semester, and he could already smell the new books, the mounting pressure, and the silent expectations that hung in the hallways.
The warmth of Room 101 was almost comforting. Students were already in their seats, setting up their laptops, scribbling in their notebooks, or silently reviewing the day's cases. Gustavo chose his usual spot in the second row, slightly to the left, near the window.
That was when he heard a familiar voice.
—I thought you were going to come back tanned, like a heartthrob from a Brazilian soap opera.
Gustavo turned and smiled.
—Lucia. How was the winter in New York?
—Freezing. But my internship with the DA's office made up for it. You?
—L.A. was hot and productive. Helping a friend set up a fashion company.
Lucia raised her eyebrows.
—Always surprising, Silva. And always involved in something that doesn't just involve you. I like that.
Before they could talk any further, the deep sound of the door closing announced the entrance of Professor Charles A. Wexler—a veteran in the criminal justice field, known for his rigid style, sarcastic tone, and rigorous application of the Socratic method.
Wexler walked to the center of the room and looked at the students like a general staring at his soldiers.
—Gentlemen. Ladies. Welcome to the second year. I hope you brought more than enthusiasm. Let's get straight to the point. Case: People v. Goetz, 1986. Who read it?
A forest of timid hands went up. Gustavo didn't move. He knew the professor wouldn't choose who would volunteer.
"Come on..." Wexler closed his eyes for a second, as if he were drawing a name in his mind. "Silva." The eyes of the class instantly turned to him.
Gustavo took a deep breath. He was prepared. Of course he was. But cold calling was always a test of nerves—no matter how prepared you were.
He stood up.
"People v. Goetz," decided by the New York Court of Appeals, deals with the case of Bernhard Goetz, a white man who shot four young black men on the Manhattan subway in 1984, claiming self-defense.
"Very well," Wexler said, leaning on the table. "What was the main legal issue addressed by the court?"
— The court discussed the subjective versus objective application of self-defense. Whether the jury should consider only whether Goetz believed he was in danger, or whether that belief was reasonable for an ordinary person in the same circumstances.
Wexler crossed his arms.
— And the court decided...?
— The decision was that the subjective belief of being in danger of death or serious injury should be judged based on reasonableness — that is, whether a reasonable person in the same circumstances as Goetz would have done the same.
— Reasonable for whom? A white man? A black man? A police officer? An immigrant?
Gustavo hesitated for only a second. He knew that the question carried more than just technicality. It had social implications.
— Professor, the concept of reasonableness should, in theory, be neutral. But in practice, it is contaminated by social, racial and cultural factors. The Goetz case exposed how fear and prejudice can be confused with a "reasonable perception" of threat.
Wexler raised an eyebrow.
— So you're saying that Goetz was racist?
— I'm saying that the context of the crime cannot be ignored. He shot the four young men after a request for five dollars. No weapons were found with the boys. It's impossible to completely separate his reaction from the unconscious reading he made of the appearance and the group to which the young men belonged.
A tense silence hung for a few seconds. Wexler nodded slowly.
— Keep it up, Silva. You're understanding more than just laws. You're understanding people.
Gustavo sat back down, and Lucia gave him a knowing smile. He exhaled silently. The first cold calling of the semester had passed and he had survived.
At the end of the class, as the students were getting ready to leave, Lucia approached him.
— Impressive. You got straight to the point, without shying away from the complexity.
— Thanks. This case affects me. It has a lot of what I see happening outside the classroom.
— You think like someone who has lived beyond their years.
"Maybe because I had to grow up fast," he said with a slight smile.
"Are you going to get some coffee?" she asked, adjusting the strap of her bag.
"Sure. I need to unfreeze myself before my next class."
In the campus cafeteria, they sat down at the window, where the world looked like a painting in shades of white and gray.
"How are things with your entrepreneur friend?" Lucia asked, blowing steam from her cappuccino.
"Better than we expected. The online store is up and running, the first sales have happened. And dad is helping with the accounting."
"You're kind of an informal mentor, huh?"
"I like to see people believe in themselves. Sometimes they just need someone to see their potential first."
Lucia stared at him for a moment.
"You know... you're going to be an incredible lawyer, Gustavo. But it goes beyond that. You have vision. Leadership. A sense of justice that doesn't just come from books."
Gustavo looked away for a moment, a little embarrassed by the compliment.
"Thank you. I just try to do the right thing. Even when I don't know exactly what that is."
"That's exactly what makes the difference."
As the day went on, Gustavo immersed himself in two more classes: Evidence Law and Constitutional Litigation. In both, he took meticulous notes, his eyes focused, his mind racing. But he also thought about Haley, how she was handling the sales and the initial challenges.
During the break, he checked his phone and saw her message:
Haley: First client complimented the crop top in the DM. Said she felt "unique" wearing it. I almost cried.
Haley: You made it happen, Gus.
He smiled to himself.
Gustavo: You made it happen, Haley. I just helped you see what was already inside you.
At the end of the day, sitting in the library, reviewing the cases for the next day, Gustavo felt that good old tiredness. The kind of tiredness that comes from well directed effort, from a clear conscience. It was only the beginning of the semester, but he already knew: this would be the most challenging and perhaps the most transformative year of his life.
Chapter 11 – Specialty: Justice
March 2012 – Harvard Law School
The Cambridge sky was still gray that morning, but inside Gustavo's head, everything was brighter than ever. The campus cafeteria was bustling, but he was oblivious to the commotion around him. A new email had just arrived. And it was more than just a message: it was confirmation of his next move.
He read and reread the words on his phone.
"Your choice of specialization in Criminal Law has been approved and recorded in your JD curriculum. Welcome to the criminal justice track at Harvard Law School."
Gustavo set his phone down on the table, took a deep breath, and stared at the steam rising from his cup of black coffee. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he was exactly where he needed to be.
Later that day, as he walked through the hallways of Wasserstein Hall, he felt different. The other students seemed to be just passing through he felt like he was walking toward something bigger. And this wasn't just rhetoric from a college prospectus: he really believed it.
When he entered the room of Professor Linda Merrick, a specialist in Criminal Law and coordinator of the specialization center, he felt that butterflies in his stomach, typical of the first classes. It wasn't just theory anymore now the subjects would be guilt, mens rea, prison systems, restorative justice and everything that touched society in its most delicate layers.
The room was full. Gustavo chose a seat in the third row, between a student with dreadlocks reviewing notes and an Asian girl with glasses and an elegant posture.
Linda Merrick entered without much ceremony.
"Good morning. Anyone who is here because they want to learn how to punish better... is in the wrong room."
Everyone was silent. She smiled.
"Here, we will learn to understand crime, the criminal, the victim and, most importantly the system. Sometimes, you will feel uncomfortable. Other times, deeply indignant. But if you get bored... then choose another path.
She paused.
"Now, who wants to introduce themselves?"
Gustavo naturally raised his hand.
"Gustavo Silva. Brazilian. I'm a sophomore. I'm from Los Angeles. I want to work in criminal justice and eventually join the LAPD."
Linda arched an eyebrow.
"LAPD? Do you want to be a cop?"
"Yes. And a lawyer. I want to work on both sides to understand the system from the inside, and maybe change it."
She crossed her arms, intrigued.
"That's rare. And ambitious."
"Justice doesn't wait. And I'm not patient," he said with a subtle smile.
She smiled back.
"Well…you'll enjoy this week's readings."
In the weeks that followed, Gustavo dove deep into his studies. Cases like Tison v. Arizona, Batson v. Kentucky, Graham v. Florida, and Roper v. Simmons weren't just texts to him they were portraits of human complexity.
During the seminars, he debated, questioned, and took notes on everything. He became known by his professors for his clear arguments, but also for his ethical sensitivity. He didn't see the defendants as mere statistics — he saw their stories, their families, their contexts. And that made a difference.
In addition, Gustavo decided to continue in the Moot Court, even with the increased reading load.
In that edition, the fictitious case involved a hot topic: the admissibility of evidence obtained by facial recognition in images from public cameras. Gustavo was part of the defense, and his role was to prove that the use of these technologies infringed on the constitutional rights of the accused, especially with regard to the reasonable expectation of privacy and the possibility of algorithmic racial bias.
The Moot Court team met twice a week, in a cramped meeting room that smelled of stale coffee and printed paper.
"This case law is too tenuous, Gustavo," said Eliot, one of his colleagues, reviewing the argument. — The court has not yet taken a clear position on facial recognition.
— Exactly. And that is what we will use. Uncertainty plays in our favor. If there is no solid case law, then there is room to challenge the validity of the evidence — he explained.
— What about the State's argument that the cameras were in a public place?
— Being present in a public space does not mean completely giving up privacy. A person's face is sensitive biometric data. It is not the same as filming someone walking. We are talking about automated and massive surveillance.
Everyone was silent for a few seconds. Then Maya, the leader of the group, smiled.
— I love it when you argue as if you were already a prosecutor.
Gustavo laughed.
— I just want justice. Even if justice involves questioning how the evidence was obtained.
That night, back in his dorm, he opened his laptop and made a video call with Hailey.
— CEO of Imperfect Hailey speaking — she said excitedly.
— Already a CEO and still a sarcastic person? Has success gone to your head?
— It went up to I's feed in Instagram. I have 3,000 followers and a collab with a micro-influencer from San Diego.
— Seriously? Congratulations!
— Thank you. And you? How is the criminal world there?
— Intense. I chose Criminal Law as my specialization.
— Does that mean you're going to defend criminals now?
Gustavo smiled.
— That means I'm going to understand the truth on each side. And fight for justice. Even when it's hard to see.
She was silent for a few seconds.
— You know I admire you, right?
— I know. And it's mutual.
The weeks went by. Gustavo, even though he was exhausted, felt more energized than ever. In a class with Linda Merrick, they discussed the case of Kalief Browder, a young black man wrongfully imprisoned for more than two years, without trial, on suspicion of robbery.
The room went silent after the presentation.
— Do you think this is an exception? — Linda asked. — Or do you think this is more common than the books show?
Gustavo raised his hand.
— I think it is more common than most of us want to believe. Because the system was not designed to work the same for everyone.
She nodded.
— And that is why we need people like you on the other side of the scale.
That night, Gustavo stayed up late. He wrote in his personal notebook the one that was not for classes, nor for Moot Court. It was just his. And there, he wrote:
"I chose Criminal Law because I believe that justice is not synonymous with punishment. Sometimes it means listening. Other times, intervening. And, almost always, it means deconstructing what we were taught to accept as truth."
The semester was still far from over, but Gustavo already felt that he had entered a new phase. Now, he was no longer just a brilliant student. He was a young man who knew what he wanted. Who walked with purpose. Who chose the hardest part of Law not just to punish, but to understand.
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