The Mentor

by Rebecca Forster

  She looked at the small brass plate on the wall. They had come to Judge Wilson Caufeld’s courtroom and Allan tugged on her arm.

  “You won’t. He’s being interviewed by some FBI agent who’s doing his background. I’m supposed to meet him here for a late lunch. Come on.” Allan shifted his briefcase, dug in his pocket, and dangled something in front of her. “The key to the inner sanctum.”

  “I’m impressed,” Edie deadpanned. So little of what Allan did impressed her anymore, but she cared for him so much that she put up with him. Even he would find himself on the wrong side of luck one day. When all his tricks failed, then she’d be there to impress him.

  “I know where the bar is,” Allan sing-songed. He unlocked the second door. Edie followed him in.

  The courtroom was cool and dark, and Edie shivered but only because she always did when she stepped into one. The seal, the bench, the grandeur of it all was the stuff of which great dreams were made. No matter that half the population of the country didn’t know what went on here. Edie knew and this was where she shined. That’s why Allan liked her, and others respected her. She was good. Edie stopped. It took Allan a minute to realize she didn’t dog his tracks.

  “Edie?” Allan was still grinning, but he was annoyed that he had to come back for her. Edie didn’t care. This was about her now.

  “I deserve to prosecute the Stewarts, Allan. That case was mine and I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”

  “More than anything?”

  He was giving her that seductive look and that wasn’t fair. In fact, it was insulting. This was her life and to him it was a game. Allan had money and prestige, both earned in the defense of corporations that spent more on their letterhead than she made in a year. He couldn’t understand a need as all-encompassing as hers because each compartment of his life was full to bursting with good things.

  “Yes, yes. More than anything.” When she had his attention, she pressed her advantage. “Help me get it back, Allan. You have Caufeld’s ear. Make him deny Lauren. I’ll find someone else to replace her.”

  “He makes his own decisions.”

  “You could try.” Edie took his briefcase from him and put it on the long bench beside them. She took both of his hands in hers. “He does things for you. Look, he’s nominated to the Supreme Court, Allan, so asking us to reassign could be good for him, too. He doesn’t want any question of impropriety. If he doesn’t object to Lauren handling this assignment, then point out why he should. Please, Allan.”

  He was silent a minute. Then he asked the consummate Allan question.

  “So, what’s in it for me, Edie?”

  Edie didn’t miss her cue.

  “You’d be saving Lauren grief. She’s not ready for something like this. The decision should be made before he actually starts the trial and has to face her. Caufeld wouldn’t want her to look like an idiot. Tell him that when you’re with him.”

  Allan moved closer. He was fooling around as he took her in his arms and Edie felt suddenly uncomfortable. She put her hands flat on his chest as if she could press into his heart the need for him to take up her cause. She tipped her face up to him; he was just tall enough that she could do that. Her hair had fallen over one eye and she didn’t bother to push it back. Beneath her fingers, Allan’s body warmed. For the first time since they’d known one another Edie wanted to step away. She didn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes when he put his lips against her hair.

  “No, I mean what’s in it for me?”

  Edie shook her head. Nothing, she wanted to scream, do it just for me. Do it because you care. He held her tighter, pressing against her.

  “Come on, Edie. Here we are. The courtroom. Judge won’t be back for at least half an hour. Come on, Edie. Let’s have some fun. Sometimes I think we’re the only ones who know how to have fun.”

  Edie bit her lip so that she wouldn’t talk while she tried to decide what she wanted more. Perhaps she was just trying to decide where her luck lay. Allan and a relationship, one-sided though it might be, or the trial. Just once she’d like not to have to choose. Just once she’d like to have everything she wanted and deserved. She tried one more time to get through to Allan.

  “You could just talk to him because I asked you to,” she murmured, but Allan wasn’t listening, and his hands were busy. Edie shut her eyes tight, so tight a tear couldn’t escape even if she had some to shed. She put her own hands on his belt buckle, and she felt his lips part into a smile.

  “I could talk to Wilson,” he whispered, “if that’s what I felt like; if there were a good reason.”

  “For me?” Edie whispered, coaxing him down the right path. “Because I’m you’re best friend, Allan, and you’re mine.”

  His silence told her what she needed to know. It wasn’t enough just to be her. Someday it might be, but not today. He lifted her skirts and she didn’t stop him. That’s when Edie Williams knew what she wanted most in the world. She wanted to have made a different choice.

  5

  “That’s enough, counsel.”

  Wilson Caufeld took a deep breath. His barrel chest filled out his robes, the knot of his tie was impeccably neat and his expression exceedingly controlled. From the moment Wilson Caufeld read into the record that he and Ms. Kingsley were close friends, from the minute defense offered no challenge, the courtroom was alive, crackling with fast words and quick thinking. Wilson was alert, the attorneys on guard and the two marshals who watched over a now shackled, but unrepentant and silent, George Stewart were ready for anything. Henry Stewart’s nervous fidgeting seemed to be in response to the intense and amorous interest of a row of young women who had come to watch that day. Everyone was primed for something to happen. So far, it was business as usual.

  The motions had been argued again for Judge Caufeld’s benefit. Joe Knapp, Eric Weitman, Lauren—especially Lauren who had taken possession of this case as if she was fighting for her young life—had put their heart and soul into the job at hand. From one side of the courtroom Knapp and Weitman raised their voices for their respective clients. The arguments were the same:

  There was standing...a reasonable expectation of privacy, Your Honor... Yes, yes, for both Henry and George Stewart. A guard against unreasonable search and seizure is what the Fourth Amendment promised...they are protected by it...the Constitution is sacred...under that protection any evidence within the truck must be suppressed. It is the law. It is just. Suppress. You can do nothing less.

  Lauren, fiercely outraged from her side of the courtroom, feeling Edie watching like a hawk, shot back:

  There can be no question of standing in special circumstances. Impossible for the protection of the Fourth Amendment to be applied here. I have cases, Your Honor. I have proof of the government’s righteousness. Deny the motion. Deny it. I urge you, Your Honor.

  Wilson Caufeld called a halt just after he’d heard enough and just before emotions ran too high. Both Weitman and Kingsley tried for one more word but Caufeld stopped their anticipated impertinence with a slice of his hand. Lauren took a deep breath and watched Caufeld intensely, knowing he would rule from the bench. It was his style. No slack. Not a wasted minute, no scurrying to chambers to think in private when he knew he was right.

  “There was no probable cause to stop the vehicle,” he began quietly and leaned forward as if to discuss the sad state of affairs more personally. “Therefore, it is my opinion that Henry Stewart was unlawfully detained on the night in question. As both the driver and owner of the vehicle, he is entitled to a reasonable expectation of privacy. The motion to suppress the evidence found in the back of his truck is, therefore, granted in regards to the charges against Henry Stewart.”

  As Wilson Caufeld ended his thought, Joe Knapp stood. He didn’t bother to approach the lectern since this would take only a moment.

  “Then, Your Honor, I would request that all charges against my client, Henry Stewart, be dropped immediately.”

  “I can’t
believe you would even consider that, Your Honor. Such action would be beyond ridiculous.” Lauren was up, too. Today her slacks were beige, her blazer blue and now her color high. “The man is a murderer and a conspirator.”

  “With no case against him.” Knapp had moved to the lectern and claimed it. He spoke into the microphone and made only a passing nod Lauren’s way. It wasn’t she, after all, who had to be convinced; it was the judge. “Given this ruling on his standing and the suppression of evidence, circumstantial evidence is all the prosecution has at best in this matter, Ms. Kingsley.”

  “He is a young boy caught up in circumstances beyond his control. He was at the wrong place at the wrong time. A kid...”

  “He is a terrorist,” Lauren shot back and moved toward the center as if she might knock Knapp out of the box. “Why don’t you say what he is? I don’t care if you dress him in knee socks and a sailor suit, Henry Stewart is a man, not a boy. He and his father conspired to plant a bomb, planted the bomb and killed two people, one of whom died a horrible, lingering death.”

  “That is for the jury, Ms. Kingsley,” Caufeld said flatly. “Move away.” She stepped back to her table, but he wasn’t done with her. “I would have to speculate that your case against Henry Stewart is not as strong as it once was, considering this ruling. Am I correct in that assumption?” Lauren was silent, but she didn’t look away. Wilson Caufeld gave no sign of empathy and she raised her chin a bit higher. “I thought so. Perhaps it would bode well to spend more time with the elder Mr. Stewart and discuss the matter of his son. That might afford you a new outlook on this matter.” Wilson threw her a bone. It didn’t do much to appease her growing peevishness. She’d thought of turning to George Stewart. Who hadn’t? But the man was tough, and Caufeld could have done more to help her. Instead he said for the record, “The motion for suppression of evidence is granted. There will be no more argument or discussion on this point.”

  “Then, Your Honor, in light of your ruling, I once again request that all charges against my client be dropped.” Joe Knapp tried once more.

  “Over my dead body,” Lauren said despite being stunned by Caufeld’s ruling. She could feel forty sets of eyes on her. She felt like a kid having a tantrum in the grocery store. No matter how valid the tantrum, no one wanted to see it once she had been swatted. She was the government’s representative and her voice shook with righteous anger as she made her position clear. “The U.S. Attorney’s office has charged this man and the charges stand. I doubt Mr. Knapp has an idea what our evidence is, and I would caution him not to count his chickens, Your Honor.”

  “Fine. Let Ms. Kingsley bring her case. My client is an upstanding citizen. He will submit to the due process of law. But, Your Honor, I must insist—no request—a reduction in bail at least Henry Stewart is no threat to our society. In fact, since Ms. Kingsley and her cohorts at the FBI will be looking for any sign that he is, I can assure you that Henry Stewart’s behavior will be exemplary given this scrutiny.”

  “Fine, Mr. Knapp.” The court reporter typed like the wind into her tiny machine. A computer would later translate at an enormous cost to the People. Lauren would need it later to make sure she had heard Wilson Caufeld correctly. “I’ll hear the motion to reduce bail now.”

  “We request that the defendant be released on his own recognizance.”

  “Your Honor!” Lauren raised her hand in frustration but sat back down without waiting for the judge to point out the obvious—he didn’t want to hear from her.

  “I can’t go that far, Mr. Knapp.” Wilson put on his glasses and looked over his paperwork. “Bail is now set at $500,000. I’ll reduce that to $100,000 with the provision that Mr. Stewart surrender his passport. I will also make it a condition of his release that he check in with this court twice weekly to report on his whereabouts and activities. Should I have any concerns, Mr. Knapp, I will have your client brought back and the bail revoked. There will be no second chances. Is that clear?”

  Eyes were on Henry Stewart. He colored. The smile that came to his face was electric. He could do this. Sure, a piece of cake. He was, after all, after everything was said and done, just a kid. He looked at his father in the hope that there would be some sign of paternal relief. His hopes were dashed. George Stewart sat with his eyes forward, his jaw tightened and trembling, not in relief but with outrage. Henry Stewart paled.

  “Of course, Your Honor...” Joe Knapp droned on unaware of his client’s disappointment despite their victory. “We are grateful for that, Your Honor...” Knapp’s brown-nosing played on a background track as Edie whispered and Lauren focused on her.

  “Looks like dad’s not too happy. Maybe we can use that,” she said quietly over Lauren’s shoulder. Lauren nodded slowly. Indeed, what should have been a celebratory moment on the part of father and son was not. Was George Stewart angry that he wasn’t on the verge of freedom? Angry that his son wouldn’t share the burden of incarceration with him? Angry that his son did not insist on martyring himself in this court neither of them supposedly acknowledged? Or was he just an angry man? Lauren turned her head slightly. Her lips hardly moved when she spoke.

  “Think there’s a chance to roll George?”

  Edie smiled and nodded as if to say there’s always a chance. Lauren smiled back. That was good. At this moment, they liked one another. They were doing their jobs and proud of it.

  “Your Honor.” Lauren was ready to put Wilson on notice. Now that he was giving her a lesson in hard ball, she would show him how well she could bat. “The prosecution will have no choice but to take this matter up with the Ninth Circuit if you set such an outrageous bond and do not insist upon electronic monitoring. Henry Stewart can make this bond four times over and it is well within the militia’s powers to disappear him anytime.”

  Caufeld was unimpressed with her threat and Lauren sat down heavily beside a vindicated Edie. Abram had made a bad call. Caufeld was no more inclined to give Lauren a break than he would her. In fact, he seemed to be bending over backwards to do just the opposite. What a pity.

  “Do what you must, Ms. Kingsley, but until you manage to complain to a higher authority, this is where all discussion ends. Now, in the matter of George Stewart,” Caufeld intoned. Lauren tried again, her tact more courteous, her only request was time. If he gave her that, Lauren was sure she could insinuate herself long enough to convince him she was right.

  “Your Honor, I apologize. I realize the place to appeal this decision is here, in this courtroom. I respect your autonomy in this matter. If Your Honor will give us the leeway to file additional points and authorities, I’m sure you’ll see that lowering Henry Stewart’s bond to such a manageable sum is, perhaps, not a wise course given the mood of the people of this city, not to mention the country. The government wants to prosecute the younger Mr. Stewart, and I fear he won’t survive to stand trial as he should.”

  “Ms. Kingsley. You are trying my patience and exhibiting the limit of your reach. If you are trying to intimidate this court by painting such a grievous scenario, you have failed miserably. I doubt there are vigilantes waiting at the door. If you’d like to suggest a lynching, I imagine the better place to do that would be outside on the steps of this courthouse. The media will assist you with great delight. Regarding your request to submit points and authorities, the time to do that was before the ruling was made.”

  “I know, your Honor. I know that I try your patience—” I have since I was a kid but I want you to give me a break here “—but now I have a clear idea of what you’re focusing on—” and I know you’re not going to give me a break— “and I believe that I can find additional case law that will more fully support our position regarding Officer Readmore’s stop.”

  “Fine,” he said, raising her spirits only to dash them a second later. “However, Mr. Stewart may still post his bond. Should you convince me otherwise, bond will be revoked. I believe you know that whatever you bring me had better be good, Ms. Kingsley.”

  “Yes,
Your Honor.” She left off the thank you. Caufeld didn’t seem to take note. Lauren knew he did.

  “Now, to the matter of George Stewart.” Caufeld watched her through the first few beats of his talk with Eric Weitman. Finally, he dismissed her, and Lauren knew that all were aware of the visual wrist slap. “There is some question in my mind whether the defendant, George Stewart, has standing in this particular situation. The question of whether or not, by search and seizure via a stop that was not sanctioned, George Stewart’s Fourth Amendment rights were violated is a bothersome one which I would like to have more time to consider. If it is found that the defendant, like his son, is protected under the Fourth Amendment, then it stands to reason that the physical evidence against him must be suppressed and the burden will be on the prosecution to prove their case without introducing evidence found in a search deemed illegal.”

  Lauren found it impossible to hold her tongue. Beside her, Edie scribbled notes.

  “Your Honor, the government vehemently objects to any consideration of possible standing for George Stewart.”

  “Your objection is noted, counsel.”

  “No, it cannot simply be noted.” Protocol was abandoned. Lauren was behind the lectern arguing with Judge Caufeld, not pleading with her friend, Wilson. “George Stewart was in the truck as a passenger. It was not his vehicle. He did not object to Officer Readmore’s search of the truck bed. This was a good stop, one based on experience and caution by the officer in the face of an unknown disaster. Anyone can see that.” Caufeld’s eyes narrowed. Lauren didn’t back down as she drew the line. “Anyone, Your Honor.”

  His response was glacial. “I am not anyone, Ms. Kingsley. If your case cannot survive suppression, then you have no case, and I would suggest you think about that deeply before you waste this court’s time and the people’s money. Perhaps a discussion with your superiors is in order before you come to any conclusion. You are charged to convince me with your knowledge of the law and not try to sway me with your rather impressive, and insistent, outbursts. That is what your survival depends upon.”