by Bill Sage
Craig Wilcox wouldn't let that happen, no matter what.
He knew Goldman would be relentless in attempting to destroy Joyce’s credibility in any way he could, ethical or not. He knew he had to counter it, but as a prosecutor he didn’t have as much leeway as a defense attorney.
If Mangano was found guilty, what Wilcox said and did during the trial would be scrutinized by the appellant court, not Goldman’s. So he had to be very careful.
Because his hands were tied, it was difficult for him to decide what he’d do to save his case. He wanted to fight back harder, but unlike Goldman his options were limited.
Last night after he’d put his daughter to bed, he sat alone in his darkened den and considered what he could do. The more he thought about it, the more he realized the case was no longer about the law or justice or even about having a fair trial. It was more like a street brawl, and he knew he’d never back down from that.
When he finally grasped that the trial was no longer a “trial” in a real sense, that changed how he felt about fighting back. Now he knew he’d have to adapt to what it was, not what it was supposed to be. Realizing that, he vowed that if he had to, he’d fight dirty too.
He’d beat Goldman at his own game.
Once that was settled in his mind, Wilcox thought, Goldman fucked with the wrong DA.
Craig Wilcox never hated anyone, even some of the Viet Cong he killed, but he loathed Arnold Goldman. There were times during the trial when he wished Goldman would try to take a swing at him, so he could bash his face in.
Wilcox was edging closer and closer to engaging in irreparable misconduct.
45
JON AND THE JUROR FOUND the contact lens. Minutes later, the jury was brought back to the courtroom and the trial resumed.
Goldman rose and stood behind his chair, staring at Joyce. He ran his hand across his mouth like he was in deep thought. After pausing a few seconds, he went back to his concocted frame-up line of questioning.
Nodding his head up and down as he asked his next question, Goldman asked, “You know something about a frame-up of Mangano, don’t you?”
Wilcox leapt to his feet. “There’s no end to the gross incompetence and unethical behavior of defense counsel. The question has no basis in reality or in any of the evidence. The jury deserves better than having to listen to this garbage coming from a desperate so-called attorney.”
“I don’t need any lectures from a prosecutor who blindly follows the sheriff's department and who doesn’t care about guilt or innocence,” Goldman shot back, jabbing his finger at Wilcox.
“Mr. Goldman,” Roth quickly broke in. “I’ll need to have an offer of proof before I let you continue with this line of questioning.”
Goldman turned to Roth and in a smug voice said, “I’ll withdraw the question, Your Honor.”
Wilcox grabbed his chair, swung it around so it faced Goldman. Then he sat down, folded his arms, and bored his eyes into Goldman’s face.
Waiting…
Seeing the intense expression on Wilcox’s face, Roth sensed all this would soon be coming to an end. He’d seen Wilcox fight it out in other trials. No doubt about it, he’d fight to win and wouldn’t back down from anything.
As for Goldman, he wasn’t giving up either. He turned away from Wilcox and gazed at Joyce again. “Let me ask you this. If you knew something, anything, that showed that Mangano was innocent, would you tell us right now?”
“Of course, I would,” Joyce said.
“Don’t be offended by my question, but are you telling the truth?”
“What you’re saying is nonsense.” She turned to look at Judge Roth.
“Are you waiting until after the trial to tell the truth?” Goldman said.
Before Wilcox could object, Roth jumped in. “I warned you, counsel. That’s another five days.”
Hearing Roth give Goldman another five days wasn’t enough to stop Wilcox from expressing his contempt and hatred for Goldman. He jumped up from his chair and slammed it into the table.
“More repulsive attorney misconduct from Mr. Goldman, Your Honor. He’ll say anything that crawls into his puny brain no matter how false or derogatory it is. He’s a disgrace to the legal profession.”
Then Wilcox put one hand on the top of his chair, turned toward Goldman and stared at him again.
“The DA is a total liar,” Goldman responded, his voice full of rage. “Now he’s stooping to engage in unethical attacks against me. Maligning me because he knows I’m representing an innocent man.”
That’s gross misconduct, Roth thought.
Then Goldman turned to face Wilcox. In a raised voice, he said, “You know the truth. This is all a frame-up. Why do you let it continue?”
At first Wilcox was so stunned at what Goldman said that words weren’t coming to his mind. He just stood there gawking at him.
One or two seconds later he let him have it. “He’s a dirt-bag liar,” he roared, his eyes boring into Goldman. “He knows Mangano's guilty, he’s told me so. And he brags how easy it is for him to get guilty guys off because he says jurors are too stupid to figure it out.”
He did it. The trial can’t continue after that.
Goldman’s head shot back, and he let out a loud gasp. Swinging around to face Judge Roth, he said, “Your Honor, I move for a mistrial. After the prosecutor’s lying statement, we can't get a fair trial. He’s totally prejudiced the jury against me and the defendant. Gross misconduct. He’s had it in for me since the beginning.”
Wilcox was about to speak, but Judge Roth held out his hand to stop him. “Gentlemen, please take your seats.”
Then turning to his right, he instructed the jury to disregard what the attorneys had just said to each other and to him. Reminding them again that they must decide the case exclusively on what they heard from the witnesses or from him, nothing else.
“As you can see the attorneys and I have some legal issues to discuss,” Judge Roth said. Then he excused the jury and ordered them to return the next morning but at 10:00 instead of 9:00.
When the jurors began leaving the jury box, Wilcox rose and then Goldman and Mangano did too. They watched as the jurors walked past them and out of the courtroom.
Judy glanced up at Roth, who was looking straight ahead. Then she watched as the last juror went out the door.
The court reporter sat poised, ready to record what Judge Roth said next.
46
AFTER THE LAST JUROR LEFT the courtroom, Judge Roth waited a few seconds. You could’ve heard a pin drop, loads of tension filled the room. Roth saw Jon glancing over at him and then at Judy, who was frowning and still looking at the doorway.
A couple of seconds later Judge Roth spoke to the attorneys. “I’m really disappointed in the way you have conducted yourself. You’re both experienced trial attorneys, but you’ve acted very unprofessionally. I know this has been a hard-fought case, but I expected more from you,” he said, eyeing one then the other.
“Your Honor—”
“Hold on, Mr. Wilcox,” Roth said, thrusting his hand out to stop him. “Before you say anything, I want both of you to take time to consider what you’ve done and what you expect the court to do now that the trial has become a personal battle between you two.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Wilcox muttered.
Goldman was still steaming. He was shaking his head as he glowered at Wilcox. When he turned to face Roth and began to speak, Judge Roth stopped him too. “It’s late. Save all your comments for tomorrow. See you gentlemen in the morning.”
The sheriff’s deputy took Mangano back to the lockup and the two attorneys shoved their files and notepads into their briefcases.
Wilcox left the courtroom first. When he pushed the door to leave, he stopped, holding it open as he shot Goldman a death stare. After a few seconds, he let the door swing shut as he walked into the hallway.
Goldman, who was fiddling with his papers, peered over his shoulder at the doors. Then he yanked ou
t a notepad, scribbled something on it, and stuffed it back in his briefcase. He got up and slowly pushed his chair into the table. He poured himself a glass of water. Took his time drinking half of it.
Finally, he picked up his briefcase and took his time walking through the courtroom and out into the hallway.
Jon waited a few seconds, then went to one of the doors, pushed it open and looked both ways down the hallway. He stepped back inside, peered at Roth. “They’re not out there.”
Roth nodded, stood up, letting out a sigh.
Judy looked at Roth. “Wow, that was unbelievable.”
“With Goldman, it was almost inevitable,” Roth said. As he stepped down from the bench he said, “Jon, keep the jurors in the jury room tomorrow until I hear the motion for a mistrial.”
“Yes, boss.”
Judge Roth went to his chambers, took off his robe, sat on the couch. Although ending the trial was what he always wanted to do, he didn’t want to appear too eager to declare a mistrial. That could’ve made Goldman think he was the guy directing Jake.
In any other out-of-control trial like this, he would’ve put off declaring a mistrial until he’d made some attempt to convince the attorneys to let it continue.
Roth had to play it like he would any other case.
Leaning his head back, he felt a sense of relief as he thought that tomorrow the trial would come to an end. But he knew that alone wouldn’t be enough—he needed to let Mangano out of jail so Jake could complete the contract.
But Mangano’s threats to flee and kill any cop who came to arrest him were still in the record and very compelling. Letting him post bail now would fly in the face of those facts, subjecting Roth to severe criticism from both law enforcement officials and his fellow judges.
Roth had always known that finding a way of allowing Mangano to post bail would be his biggest challenge. Even harder than orchestrating the mistrial.
But Roth had always been sure about one thing: No matter what, he’d find a way of letting Mangano get out of jail. He’d make that happen even if it meant he could lose his job as a judge.
And although it hadn’t been easy, creating a set of circumstances that would make it appear appropriate for Roth to allow Mangano to post bail wasn’t the most difficult thing he’d ever done. After all, he’s the guy who planned the murder of Gerard Michel and outwitted Steve Ward.
Going over what he’d done, Roth was confident that he’d set up a factual foundation that would support his decision to let Mangano get out on bail.
So tomorrow it would be over. After he ordered a mistrial, Goldman would ask for bail, and then Mangano would be meeting his destiny with Jake Gertner.
47
THAT NIGHT, AL AND JAKE MET at Chewy Browns to discuss the Mangano case. They sat at a table near the window in the front. The door was open, letting them take in the ocean air.
Al loosened his tie and moved his beer closer. “Tomorrow will be the big day. It could be all over.” Then he told Jake what had happened in court and Goldman’s request to stop the trial.
“So that could be it. Over tomorrow?” Jake asked.
“Yeah, I’ll declare a mistrial and put it off to another date. Goldman will then ask for bail.”
“Been waiting a long time for this.”
“Now you can do what you were put on earth to do,” Al said, smiling.
Jake cocked his head, stared hard at Al. “As it was written, so shall it be.”
There was a pause for a few moments.
“I guess I should say amen to that. But the significant thing to know is that if it weren’t for Goldman, none of this would be happening,” Al said. “He’s been such an asshole that he pushed the DA to the wall. Wilcox is a fighter, ex-Marine. They battled it out in court and that’s what I wanted.”
“Well, at least he’s good for something.”
“He’s the King of Assholes, that’s for sure.”
Jake chuckled. “Without a doubt, Goldman is the biggest asshole I ever met.” Jake paused for effect. “You know that guy, Will Rogers? He lived in the ‘20s. Said famous things.”
“Yeah.”
“He never met Goldman. Know what I mean?”
Al leaned back and had a good laugh. Jake burst out laughing too, slapping his hand down on the table.
“He’s an asshole, but he's our asshole,” Al said. “He’s just what we wanted for the Mangano case.”
They took swigs of beer and talked for a while. Then Jake flagged down the waitress and ordered two bacon cheeseburgers and more beers.
Five minutes later the waitress brought their beers and a fresh glass for Al. Jake drank out of the bottle.
“When I see you drinking out of a glass, I know you’ve drifted too far,” Jake said.
“Yeah, you’re right. My days of looking like a high school-dropout are over.”
Jake flipped him off.
They sat in silence for a while.
Then with a determined look on Al’s face he said, “I’ve been thinking about Mangano.” He paused to make it look like he was thinking hard about something. “How you take him out should be something special. You know what I mean?”
Jake gave him a wary look. “You got something to tell me?”
Al flashed him a concerned look and nodded. “Yeah, I do.” After a pause, he smiled. “I was just thinking that it would be nice if you went through your designer garrotte collections and picked out something stylish for him. Make it suit the occasion.”
Jake stared at him for a few seconds. “Oh, that’s cute. You always find a way of proving that deep down you’re a righteous asshole.”
“No, you got me all wrong. I just thought you had one or two designer collections stuffed away in a box somewhere. You know, under your bed or someplace like that. Why not? It’s your specialty.”
Jake smirked then laughed once. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”
“Stop, you’re making me feel bad.”
They went silent for a few minutes.
“Poor Linda,” Jake said, shaking his head. “She’s making a big fucking mistake and doesn’t know it yet.”
“No, I think she does know.”
48
NEXT MORNING, WHILE THE JURORS waited in the locked jury room, the attorneys and Mangano sat in their places at the counsel tables.
Roth took the bench ready to hear arguments on whether he should grant a mistrial. As Judy was handing him a writing tablet, Roth saw Lopez walk in and sit down. They didn’t acknowledge each other in any way.
Roth wrote “Mangano mistrial” on the yellow pad, then turned to Goldman. “Mr. Goldman, yesterday you asked the court to declare a mistrial. I’ll hear your argument.”
Goldman slowly rose from his chair, took a breath. “Your Honor, I’ve talked it over with my client and after a great deal of discussion, he’s decided to withdraw the motion. We’re not asking for a mistrial.”
Wilcox appeared stunned. Squinting, he gawked at Goldman then went back to looking at Roth, who just sat there as if nothing unusual had taken place.
Roth turned and looked over at Jon.
Nodding, Jon got up and walked over to the door that led to jury room. Then he turned around and waited for Roth’s instructions.
Seeing Roth’s countermove, Goldman looked a little nervous. But he continued. “As we all know, it’s going to be impossible for my client to have a fair trial after the prosecutor’s remarks. So the court has a legal obligation to step in and stop it. It’s not up to the defendant; it’s the court’s job.”
Goldman gave Wilcox a quick look, then said, “That’s why we’re withdrawing the motion, Your Honor.” Then he sat down.
Although Roth had a good idea what Goldman was up to, he didn’t want to tip his hand. “So, that’s it?” he said with a quizzical look. “You want the court to do it?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“No problem. But if I do, I’ll want to get your client’s consent. You under
stand that, don’t you?”
“I’ve discussed that with Mr. Mangano as well, Your Honor. And I’m sorry to say we won’t be able to agree to that. If continuing with the trial is going to be unfair, it must be stopped. Period. The court doesn’t need to have the defendant’s consent to do it. If it’s unfair, that should be the end of it.”
Now Judge Roth knew exactly what Goldman was trying to pull. “What?” he said, feigning disbelief. “You’ve just said your client can’t receive a fair trial, yet you’ll refuse to agree if I order a mistrial?” Roth shrugged as he looked over at Wilcox, who was shaking his head.
“The fact that my client can’t have a fair trial,” Goldman responded, “is exactly why the court must stop it even if he doesn’t agree to it.”
Roth paused for a moment. “Okay, Mr. Goldman,” he said in a vexed tone. Then looking over his shoulder at Jon, he said, “Mr. Bailiff, please bring in—”
“But, Your Honor,” Goldman said, shooting up from his chair. “This entire trial has been totally unfair to my client. You’ve made numerous improper rulings, paving the way for the DA’s prejudicial remarks. Now you have a duty to put an end to it.”
Roth stared at him for two or three seconds. “Are you trying to set up an incompetent counsel defense?” Before Goldman could respond, he added, “It could work.”
Goldman started, “Your Honor, I—”
“Jon, please bring in the jury,” Roth said, deliberately ignoring Goldman.
“Your Honor, please, wait…wait,” Goldman said in a frantic tone.
“What for?”
“Before the jury comes in, I’d like to have a few minutes to discuss this with my client.”
“I thought you said you already talked to him and he didn’t want a mistrial.”
“My client may want to reconsider.”
“He’s just sitting there, never said a word.” Roth paused then said, “You told me you wouldn’t make a motion for a mistrial. You wanted the court to do it. Since I’m not going to do it, I’m bringing in the jury. What’s the problem? I don’t get it.”
