The Lincoln Lawyer

by Michael Connelly

  “This is incredible,” Roulet said. “To have to sit here and listen to this. I can’t believe what has happened to me. I DID NOT do this. This is like a dream. She is lying! She —”

  “If it is all lies, then this will be the easiest case I ever had,” I said. “I will tear her apart and throw her entrails into the sea. But we have to know what she has put on the record before we can construct traps and go after her. And if you think this is hard to sit through, wait until we get to trial and it’s stretched out over days instead of minutes. You have to control yourself, Louis. You have to remember that you will get your turn. The defense always gets its turn.”

  Dobbs reached over and patted Roulet on the forearm, a nice fatherly gesture. Roulet pulled his arm away.

  “Damn right you are going to go after her,” Roulet said, pointing a finger across the table at my chest. “I want you to go after her with everything we’ve got.”

  “That’s what I am here for, and you have my promise I will. Now, let me ask my associate a few questions before we finish up here.”

  I waited to see if Roulet had anything else to say. He didn’t. He leaned back into his chair and clasped his hands together.

  “You finished, Raul?” I asked.

  “For now. I’m still working on all the reports. I should have a transcript of the nine-one-one call tomorrow morning and there will be more stuff coming in.”

  “Good. What about a rape kit?”

  “There wasn’t one. Booker’s report said she declined, since it never got to that.”

  “What’s a rape kit?” Roulet asked.

  “It’s a hospital procedure where bodily fluids, hair and fibers are collected from the body of a rape victim,” Levin said.

  “There was no rape!” Roulet exclaimed. “I never touched —”

  “We know that,” I said. “That’s not why I asked. I am looking for cracks in the state’s case. The victim said she was not raped but was reporting what was certainly a sex crime. Usually, the police insist on a rape kit, even when a victim claims there was no sexual assault. They do this just in case the victim actually has been raped and is just too humiliated to say so or might be trying to keep the full extent of the crime from a husband or family member. It’s standard procedure, and the fact that she was able to talk her way out of it might be significant to us.”

  “She didn’t want the first guy’s DNA showing up in her,” Dobbs said.

  “Maybe,” I said. “It might mean any number of things. But it might be a crack. Let’s move on. Raul, is there any mention anywhere about this guy who Louis saw her with?”

  “No, none. He’s not in the file.”

  “And what did crime scene find?”

  “I don’t have the report but I am told that no evidence of any significant nature was located during the crime scene evaluation of the apartment.”

  “That’s good. No surprises. What about the knife?”

  “Blood and prints on the knife. But nothing back on that yet. Tracing ownership will be unlikely. You can buy those folding knives in any fishing or camping store around.”

  “I’m telling you, that is not my knife,” Roulet interjected.

  “We have to assume the fingerprints will be from the man who turned it in,” I said.

  “Atkins,” Levin responded.

  “Right, Atkins,” I said, turning to Louis. “But it would not surprise me to find prints from you on it as well. There is no telling what occurred while you were unconscious. If she put blood on your hand, then she probably put your prints on the knife.”

  Roulet nodded his agreement and was about to say something, but I didn’t wait for him.

  “Is there any statement from her about being at Morgan’s earlier in the evening?” I asked Levin.

  He shook his head.

  “No, the interview with the victim was in the ER and not formal. It was basic and they didn’t go back with her to the early part of the evening. She didn’t mention the guy and she didn’t mention Morgan’s. She just said she had been home since eight-thirty. They asked about what happened at ten. They didn’t really get into what she had been doing before. I’m sure that will all be covered in the follow-up investigation.”

  “Okay, if and when they go back to her for a formal, I want that transcript.”

  “I’m on it. It will be a sit-down on video when they do it.”

  “And if crime scene does a video, I want that, too. I want to see her place.”

  Levin nodded. He knew I was putting on a show for the client and Dobbs, giving them a sense of my command of the case and all the irons that were going into the fire. The reality was I didn’t need to tell Raul Levin any of this. He already knew what to do and what to get for me.

  “Okay, what else?” I asked. “Do you have any questions, Cecil?”

  Dobbs seemed surprised by the focus suddenly shifting to him. He quickly shook his head.

  “No, no, I’m fine. This is all good. We’re making good progress.”

  I had no idea what he meant by “progress,” but I let it go by without question.

  “So what do you think?” Roulet asked.

  I looked at him and waited a long moment before answering.

  “I think the state has got a strong case against you. They have you in her home, they have a knife and they have her injuries. They also have what I am assuming is her blood on your hands. Added to that, the photos are powerful. And, of course, they will have her testimony. Having never seen or spoken to the woman, I don’t know how impressive she will be.”

  I stopped again and milked the silence even longer before continuing.

  “But there is a lot they don’t have—evidence of break-in, DNA from the suspect, a motive or even a suspect with a past record of this or any sort of crime. There are a lot of reasons—legitimate reasons—for you to have been in that apartment. Plus . . .”

  I looked past Roulet and Dobbs and out the window. The sun was dropping behind Anacapa and turning the sky pink and purple. It beat anything I ever saw from the windows of my office.

  “Plus what?” Roulet asked, too anxious to wait on me.

  “Plus you have me. I got Maggie McFierce off the case. The new prosecutor is good but he’s green and he’ll have never come up against someone like me before.”

  “So what’s our next step?” Roulet asked.

  “The next step is for Raul to keep doing his thing, finding out what he can about this alleged victim and why she lied about being alone. We need to find out who she is and who her mystery man is and to see how that plays into our case.”

  “And what will you do?”

  “I’ll be dealing with the prosecutor. I’ll set something up with him, try to see where he’s going and we’ll make our choice on which way to go. I have no doubt that I’ll be able to go to the DA and knock all of this down to something you can plea to and get behind you. But it will require a concession. You —”

  “I told you. I will not —”

  “I know what you said but you have to hear me out. I may be able to get a no-contest plea so that you don’t actually ever say the word ‘guilty,’ but I am not seeing the state completely dropping this. You will have to concede responsibility in some regard. It is possible to avoid jail time but you will likely have to perform community service of some sort. There, I’ve said it. That is the first recitation. There will be more. I am obligated as your attorney to tell you and make sure you understand your options. I know it’s not what you want or are willing to do but it is my duty to educate you on the choices. Okay?”

  “Fine. Okay.”

  “Of course, as you know, any concession on your part will pretty much make any civil action Ms. Campo takes against you a slam dunk. So, as you can guess, disposing of the criminal case quickly will probably end up costing you a lot more than my fee.”

  Roulet shook his head. The plea bargain was already not an option.

  “I understand my choices,” he said. “You have fulfilled
your duty. But I’m not going to pay her a cent for something I didn’t do. I’m not going to plead guilty or no contest to something I didn’t do. If we go to trial, can you win?”

  I held his gaze for a moment before answering.

  “Well, you understand that I don’t know what will come up between now and then and that I can’t guarantee anything . . . but, yes, based on what I see now, I can win this case. I’m confident of that.”

  I nodded to Roulet and I think I saw a look of hope enter his eyes. He saw the glimmer.

  “There is a third option,” Dobbs said.

  I looked from Roulet to Dobbs, wondering what wrench he was about to throw into the franchise machine.

  “And what’s that?” I asked.

  “We investigate the hell out of her and this case. Maybe help Mr. Levin out with some of our people. We investigate six ways from Sunday and establish our own credible theory and evidence and present it to the DA. We head this off before it ever gets to trial. We show this greenhorn prosecutor where he will definitely lose the case and get him to drop all charges before he suffers that professional embarrassment. Added to this, I am sure this man works for a man who runs that office and is susceptible, shall we say, to political pressures. We apply it until things turn our way.”

  I felt like kicking Dobbs under the table. Not only did his plan involve cutting my biggest fee ever by more than half, not only did it see the lion’s share of client money going to the investigators, including his own, but it could only have come from a lawyer who had never defended a criminal case in his entire career.

  “That’s an idea but it is very risky,” I said calmly. “If you can blow their case out of the water and you go in before trial to show them how, you are also giving them a blueprint for what to do and what to avoid in trial. I don’t like to do that.”

  Roulet nodded his agreement and Dobbs looked a bit taken aback. I decided to leave it at that and to address Dobbs further on it when I could do it without the client present.

  “What about the media?” Levin asked, thankfully changing the subject.

  “That’s right,” Dobbs said, anxious to change it himself now. “My secretary says I have messages from two newspapers and two television stations.”

  “I probably do as well,” I said.

  What I didn’t mention was that the messages left with Dobbs were left by Lorna Taylor at my direction. The case had not attracted the media yet, other than the freelance videographer who showed up at the first appearance. But I wanted Dobbs and Roulet and his mother to believe they all could be splashed across the papers at any moment.

  “We don’t want publicity on this,” Dobbs said. “This is the worst kind of publicity to get.”

  He seemed to be adept at stating the obvious.

  “All media should be directed to me,” I said. “I will handle the media and the best way to do that is to ignore it.”

  “But we have to say something to defend him,” Dobbs said.

  “No, we don’t have to say anything. Talking about the case legitimizes it. If you get into a game of talking to the media, you keep the story alive. Information is oxygen. Without it they die. As far as I am concerned, let ’em die. Or at least wait until there is no avoiding them. If that happens, only one person speaks for Louis. That’s me.”

  Dobbs reluctantly nodded his agreement. I pointed a finger at Roulet.

  “Under no circumstances do you talk to a reporter, even to deny the charges. If they contact you, you send them to me. Got it?”

  “I got it.”

  “Good.”

  I decided that we had said enough for a first meeting. I stood up.

  “Louis, I’ll take you home now.”

  But Dobbs wasn’t going to release his grasp on his client so quickly.

  “Actually, I’ve been invited to dinner by Louis’s mother,” he said. “I could take him, since I am going there.”

  I nodded my approval. The criminal defense attorney never seemed to get invited to dinner.

  “Fine,” I said. “But we’ll meet you there. I want Raul to see his place and Louis needs to give me that check we spoke about earlier.”

  If they thought I had forgotten about the money, they had a lot to learn about me. Dobbs looked at Roulet and got an approving nod. Dobbs then nodded to me.

  “Sounds like a plan,” he said. “We’ll meet again there.”

  Fifteen minutes later I was riding in the back of the Lincoln with Levin. We were following a silver Mercedes carrying Dobbs and Roulet. I was checking with Lorna on the phone. The only message of importance had come from Gloria Dayton’s prosecutor, Leslie Faire. The message was we had a deal.

  “So,” Levin said when I closed the phone. “What do you really think?”

  “I think there is a lot of money to be made on this case and we’re about to go get the first installment. Sorry I’m dragging you over there. I didn’t want it to seem like it was all about the check.”

  Levin nodded but didn’t say anything. After a few moments I continued.

  “I’m not sure what to think yet,” I said. “Whatever happened in that apartment happened quick. That’s a break for us. No actual rape, no DNA. That gives us a glimmer of hope.”

  “It sort of reminds me of Jesus Menendez, only without DNA. Remember him?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want to.”

  I tried not to think about clients who were in prison without appellate hopes or anything else left but years of time in front of them to nut out. I do what I can with each case but sometimes there is nothing that can be done. Jesus Menendez’s case was one of those.

  “How’s your time on this?” I asked, putting us back on course.

  “I’ve got a few things but I can move them around.”

  “You are going to have to work nights on this. I need you to go into those bars. I want to know everything about him and everything about her. This case looks simple at this point. We knock her down and we knock the case down.”

  Levin nodded. He had his briefcase on his lap.

  “You got your camera in there?”

  “Always.”

  “When we get to the house take some pictures of Roulet. I don’t want you showing his mug shot in the bars. It’ll taint things. Can you get a picture of the woman without her face being all messed up?”

  “I got her driver’s license photo. It’s recent.”

  “Good. Run them down. If we find a witness who saw her come over to him at the bar in Morgan’s last night, then we’re gold.”

  “That’s where I was thinking I’d start. Give me a week or so. I’ll come back to you before the arraignment.”

  I nodded. We drove in silence for a few minutes, thinking about the case. We were moving through the flats of Beverly Hills, heading up into the neighborhoods where the real money was hidden and waiting.

  “And you know what else I think?” I said. “Money and everything aside, I think there’s a chance he isn’t lying. His story is just quirky enough to be true.”

  Levin whistled softly between his teeth.

  “You think you might have found the innocent man?” he said.

  “That would be a first,” I said. “If I had only known it this morning, I would have charged him the innocent man premium. If you’re innocent you pay more because you’re a hell of a lot more trouble to defend.”

  “Ain’t that the truth.”

  I thought about the idea of having an innocent client and the dangers involved.

  “You know what my father said about innocent clients?”

  “I thought your father died when you were like six years old.”

  “Five, actually. They didn’t even take me to the funeral.”

  “And he was talking to you about innocent clients when you were five?”

  “No, I read it in a book long after he was gone. He said the scariest client a lawyer will ever have is an innocent client. Because if you fuck up and he goes to prison, it’ll scar you for life.” />
  “He said it like that?”

  “Words to that effect. He said there is no in-between with an innocent client. No negotiation, no plea bargaining, no middle ground. There’s only one verdict. You have to put an NG up on the scoreboard. There’s no other verdict but not guilty.”

  Levin nodded thoughtfully.

  “The bottom line was my old man was a damn good lawyer and he didn’t like having innocent clients,” I said. “I’m not sure I do, either.”

  Thursday, March 17

  TEN

  T he first ad I ever put in the yellow pages said “Any Case, Anytime, Anywhere” but I changed it after a few years. Not because the bar objected to it, but because I objected to it. I got more particular. Los Angeles County is a wrinkled blanket that covers four thousand square miles from the desert to the Pacific. There are more than ten million people fighting for space on the blanket and a considerable number of them engage in criminal activity as a lifestyle choice. The latest crime stats show almost a hundred thousand violent crimes are reported each year in the county. Last year there were 140,000 felony arrests and then another 50,000 high-end misdemeanor arrests for drug and sex offenses. Add in the DUIs and every year you could fill the Rose Bowl twice over with potential clients. The thing to remember is that you don’t want clients from the cheap seats. You want the ones sitting on the fifty-yard line. The ones with money in their pockets.

  When the criminals get caught they get funneled into a justice system that has more than forty courthouses spread across the county like Burger Kings ready to serve them—as in serve them up on a plate. These stone fortresses are the watering holes where the legal lions come to hunt and to feed. And the smart hunter learns quickly where the most bountiful locations are, where the paying clients graze. The hunt can be deceptive. The client base of each courthouse does not necessarily reflect the socioeconomic structure of the surrounding environs. Courthouses in Compton, Downey and East Los Angeles have produced a steady line of paying clients for me. These clients are usually accused of being drug dealers but their money is just as green as a Beverly Hills stock swindler’s.