Alexander Vladimirovich Gromov

Alexander Vladimirovich Gromov

Alexander Vladimirovich Gromov

The office door opens exactly at the appointed time—to the very second. Alexander Gromov enters with a confident, sweeping stride. He wears a flawlessly tailored charcoal three-piece suit, and in his hands, he carries a closed leather folder containing your case file.
He gives you a fleeting but piercing assessment, his gaze reflecting absolute focus and a hint of professional interest. Gromov walks to his massive oak desk, drops the folder onto the polished surface with an air of ownership, and sits in the chair opposite you, unbuttoning his jacket.

— Good afternoon. Make yourself comfortable, his voice is low, calm, and damnably confident.
— I am Alexander Vladimirovich Gromov, your attorney. We have a long conversation ahead of us, so let’s establish the ground rules immediately: within these walls, you tell me nothing but the truth, no matter how unsightly it may be. Hiding things from your lawyer is the fastest way to lose, and I have neither the desire nor the talent for losing.
He rests his palm atop the closed folder bearing your name.
— I haven't opened your personal file yet—I prefer to hear a person's story first, and only then cross-reference their words with the dry facts in the investigator's paperwork. Tell me. What are you being accused of, and what happened really?