“And you cannot survive a ruling in favor of this defendant. The People will not stand for it.”
“You overstep your bounds, Counsel,” Caufeld thundered. “This is not a matter of what is good for me or the defendant or you. This is a matter of what is just under our law. I think you’d be wise to remember that.” He was on his feet, towering above her, furious and godlike. Despite all she knew about him and all he meant to her, Wilson Caufeld intimidated her and that made Lauren mad. She clamped her jaw tight while she listened to his final pronouncement. “I will take two weeks to explore the question of George Stewart’s standing and reacquaint myself with papers and positions already filed. Prepare your cases, counsel. If you wish to file additional points and authorities, do so within the week. Make it worth my while to consider them. As soon as I have rendered my opinion, I will expect all of you to roll on this. There will be no excuses.”
He was looking at Lauren and taking his leave when surprisingly he let his eyes meet George Stewart’s. The two men looked at one another, both powerful in their own right, each striking fear in other people’s hearts in their own way. Something passed between them and Caufeld could not continue. He seemed to be waiting. George Stewart didn’t make him wait long.
The defendant gave a little snort as the right side of his mouth curled up. He seemed to have forgotten Henry and the marshals and the rest of the world, but Wilson Caufeld intrigued him. “You can’t deliver, mister. There can’t be justice because this isn’t a fair trail. I can only be judged by a citizen of this country.”
“Your Honor, I apologize for my client.” Eric Weitman moved elegantly from behind the table, shooting a glance at George Stewart as he tried to control the situation with tone. Caufeld ignored him.
“Sir, I am a citizen of this country, who serves a system of justice that has stood us all in good stead for over two hundred years. It is not...”
“I don’t recognize your citizenship under the provisions of the Fourteenth Amendment,” Stewart smirked. “I am a citizen under the original constitution; you are a recipient of a second-class citizenship based upon that amendment to which I just referred. I do not recognize that citizenship. If I am to be tried for any crime, I demand to be tried in a court of common law and judged by my true peers. The people’s court is already convening to bring charges against you, Mr. Caufeld, for daring to pretend to a position that your kind cannot hold.”
Wilson Caufeld stood still. George Stewart’s bravado didn’t fool him, and the Fourteenth Amendment was one he knew well.
“That Amendment that you cite so blithely extended constitutional protection to the newly freed slaves after the Civil War, sir. I am no slave. I am your judge. I put it to you that you cannot hide your bigotry behind rhetoric. I have heard it all before and you cannot shock me.” After all these years Wilson was tired of such discussions. It showed behind his eyes but not in his stance. “You will be judged by your peers, Mr. Stewart, have no fear. You will be judged with all the fairness the law allows. In fact, Mr. Stewart, this court will make sure that your hearing is fair and equitable under our laws and the constitution you interpret so loosely. This court will do so, Mr. Stewart, so that neither you, nor your associates, can point a finger and frighten someone weaker, hurt another human being, incite a riot, or in any manner harm this country that is so dear to so many and only coveted by you. I would judge you the same way if you appeared before me for a traffic ticket...”
“Or if you sat on the Supreme Court?” George Stewart taunted. “How will you judge me then when it isn’t a matter of evidence but of constitutional content? No matter where you sit, I don’t recognize you and there are more of us than you can ever imagine. You’ve shown your weakness toward a man you consider a child. My son is no child, Caufeld, and he is not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should be, Mr. Stewart,” Judge Caufeld said with certainty.
“No.” He half stood then regained his seat. Better not to struggle with his shackles. He would wear martyr’s trappings and use the words of a prophet. “You should be afraid. You and your kind took everything I had. There was no one to talk to, no one who would listen to me when it was only me fighting to save what I had earned. Where were you when the IRS took my home and my savings? Nobody was there for me. Now I have my armies, I have a son and I have a reason to fight. You’ve forgotten what my ancestors fought for and that was freedom from tyranny. You won’t be able to hold me. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord and He avenges his own who are mistreated.”
“Justice is mine, and I’m the one saying it,” Wilson answered back, and all heads turned to George Stewart. He was a study in mediocrity gussied up with an ego, a mouth, and a modicum of intelligence. That was nothing unusual in California, but when firepower and a sense of fatality were added, mediocrity was frightening.
“Watch your back, Mr. Wilson Caufeld; you and everyone who has anything to do with this farce. Watch those you care about. Watch them all.” George Stewart looked away from Wilson and directly at Lauren. Or did Edie have his attention? Perhaps George Stewart thought them all of one mind, one body, all equally despicable. Lauren, mesmerized as she was, looked to Wilson for reassurance that this was only a crazy man talking and no one to truly fear. She was too late. He was leaving the courtroom with shoulders back and head held high. The threat was left behind, and it chilled everyone who had heard it. All except George Stewart who seemed pleased.
In the time it took for Lauren to remember to breathe, people in the courtroom became reanimated. George and Henry, oddly subdued, were led away. Indignant, Lauren packed to go. A threat hung over her head too, but Wilson Caufeld had caused the real damage. He had betrayed her even though she had remained true on all counts: to herself, to his counsel and to the law.
Eric Weitman walked with Joe Knapp through the swinging gate. This was all in a day’s work for them. Spectators left like the faithful filing out of the church after the bride had been left at the altar. No one knew if they should smile and make the best of it, or wail that life was unfair. Lauren followed, silent and concerned, stung by Wilson’s ruling and decision to deliberate.
“What do you want to do now?”
Lost in thought, she didn’t notice Edie come up behind her, she only heard her ask the one question she didn’t want to answer. Lauren’s guilt at having replaced Edie was just below the surface, the same way disappointment must lay beneath Edie’s skin.
“We have points and authorities to submit I suppose I’d like to get to work on them. We’ll just have to broaden our interpretation of standing.”
Lauren hefted her briefcase, walking fast as if she could dodge the self-recrimination that went with her. They’d all been stupid: Abram for changing the line-up, and Lauren for stepping up to the plate. Edie could only be blamed for being professional and not putting up more of a stink. Lauren raised her chin at defense counsel who huddled in the hall. Weitman and Knapp smiled back out of habit. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts and Lauren’s was a simple one: Wilson Caufeld had twisted the axis of the world as Lauren knew it. Her balance was off.
For the first time in her life, she didn’t admire Wilson’s concern for the letter of the law. His rulings that morning were absurd, and he should have taken into account the spirit of the law. Her arguments were solid, her research impeccable, her credentials and history should have given her a leg up. He should have considered her spirit, too. Lauren punched the call button for the elevator, missed and hurt her finger.
“Which way do you think Caufeld’s going to swing on George?” Lauren used both hands to hold her briefcase, pretending like her finger didn’t feel hot and throb. Edie talked on. “If he suppresses everything in the truck, we’re looking at fifty/fifty on the conviction, even with Mark’s information and the post-blast work and everything.”
Lauren was tight-lipped with her reply.
“You’re putting too much emphasis on this. It’s a minor setback. We can be
at it. The confidential informant’s testimony and the blast fragments are our real case. Besides, George is the one we want and he’s still in custody. I’m not worried. Not worried at all.” Lauren looked up. The elevator seemed to be stuck on the third floor. She pushed the button again and this time she was right on target, pretending it was Wilson’s chest she punched. Maybe she was putting that finger in Edie’s face. “And I don’t know what Wilson will do. I’m not a mind reader or his confidante.”
“Okay,” Edie said. She joined Lauren in her observation of the painfully slow progress of the elevator.
They stood in silence. Lauren’s shoulders pulled back, her briefcase held close down by her knees, clutched in both hands; Edie resting her weight on her back leg as if completely relaxed, even though that was far from the truth. Abram’s little plan had backfired, and Lauren was caught in the middle. That was the bitch of it. At least it was a position Edie could sympathize with. “I think Abram put you in a bad place, for what it’s worth. Small town politics don’t even fly in small towns anymore.” Lauren didn’t smile, but Edie could tell she was listening. “I should have handled this.”
“I can handle it,” Lauren snapped. Gratitude that Edie hadn’t crowed was taking second place to the affront of the other woman’s magnanimous commiseration.
Edie scrutinized Lauren. “All I’m suggesting is that it was unfair to assume that your relationship with Judge Caufeld would give you any greater insight than I had. Abram thinks that this office is just a bigger board than the one he keeps those toys on.” She chuckled. “Doesn’t it ever amaze you that a guy who plays with tin soldiers is the one calling the shots here?” Even Lauren had to smile. Edie had a point. She went ahead and made a few more. “Confidence is one thing, dreaming another. I won’t undermine you because in the end all this reflects on me. But since I have a few more years under my belt than you, I’m not going to sit here and let you charge ahead without saying something. So here goes. The confidential informant’s testimony and the lab stuff won’t mean much without the truck. It’s a minefield we’re walking into and I think you better face that reality right now.”
“I’m not afraid if that’s what you’re worried about. I always knew there was a chance Wilson could do something like this. We all did.” Lauren punched the button again.
“You approved the motions and the arguments. They were exactly the same as the ones we presented to Judge Lee. I even think the presentation was stronger this time.”
“Hey, no need to get defensive. I didn’t expect you to have any special magic. You did good, now we’ll work a little harder.”
Lauren waited just long enough so her “thanks” seemed reluctant. The doors of the elevator opened. Lauren preceded Edie. By the time they reached the twelfth floor Lauren had faced the facts: her Merlin had deserted her, and she needed help with the sword in the stone.
“Why don’t you take the issue of standing and I’ll take the stop? We only have a week to pull it together so he can have a week to consider the new material. What do you want to do about Abram?”
“I’ll fill him in. He doesn’t want details; he just wants the Stewart’s convicted.”
“The press?” Lauren asked. They were almost at the twelfth floor.
“No interviews until Caufeld rules, then a short statement.”
“Why?” Lauren looked askance, glad she asked. She wanted to present their side to the public immediately and it was a surprise to find out that Edie didn’t.
“Mystery. Never look worried. Don’t get defensive. Pick one. Besides, no one matters but Caufeld. The general public doesn’t really understand the preliminaries.”
“Sounds like you think everything is settled.”
“You’re just figuring out I’m a fatalist?” Edie half smiled. “Just keep your ears open. Caufeld’s going to tip his hand at some point, and you’ll be the only one who can see over the top.”
“I’m not going to do anything unethical. I’m not even going to see him socially until the trial is over. I won’t compromise him, myself, or this office,” Lauren warned.
The elevator stopped. The women stepped out. Lauren was headed to the office, but Edie reached out and guided her toward the far wall for a little talk.
“Here’s a clue, Lauren, no one expects you to. We’re expecting you to take advantage of opportunities and that’s a whole different thing. I know you’re thinking about your mother’s situation, but this is yours. Play it straight but play it smart.”
The look in Lauren’s eyes was flint and Edie met it head on. A spade was a spade after all.
“That was uncalled for,” Lauren said.
“Okay, so let’s assume you’re right up there with Mother Teresa. But even Mother Teresa wanted to win, so I’m betting you’ll ram this thing through because you believe we’re right. We need to be just this side of dirty to make sure the bad guys go away. If we don’t, we might as well quit because we’re not doing anyone any good.”
They were at the window now. It was noon. A jury had gathered by the elevators, looking like overgrown kids on a field trip with their big white juror tags strung around their necks. The marshal, a handsome young man the color of chocolate, sported a uniform over a body to die for. Two assistant U.S. attorneys were trying to skirt the crowd without much success. Edie ignored them all as her head dropped left, her eyes locking on the scene below.
“Look out there. See all those people? They’ll hate us if we lose. When it’s over, they won’t even remember our names, or the Stewarts for that matter, they’ll just remember that there was danger and we failed to protect them. They’ll hate a generic us.”
“You don’t give the man on the street much credit, do you?” Lauren murmured.
“How can I? They’re not part of the system so they get in the way. Funny thing is they don’t want to know what goes on here. The system is scary, they can’t manipulate it and they’re terrified they’ll get caught in it. If they can read the bad stuff in a paper and their names aren’t attached, it means they’re safe for a while longer. Fear and confusion are both collective and the most personal emotions in the world.”
Edie stood back, embarrassed to see she was still holding Lauren’s arm. When she spoke again, Edie sounded almost affectionate as she talked about Los Angeles, as if she and this faltering city had a lot in common.
“This really isn’t a sophisticated place. People here believe the whole country has to have their cappuccino by 7:00 a.m. They think everybody in the world worries about their abs. They can’t fathom living anywhere that shopping malls don’t come three to a mile, Seven-Elevens don’t carry tofu and cars aren’t traded every two years.” Lauren laughed as Edie swept her hand toward a horizon that was packed with buildings, threaded with freeways, and smothered under a heavy layer of yellow smog. “Los Angeles is the exception to every commonsense rule for living. We’re not normal. The Stewarts are. Normal is sitting right here in Caufeld’s court, and we better figure out how to deal with it.”
“They’re criminals,” Lauren interrupted, thinking Edie had lost a little of her mind. Edie pushed one brow up, reacting to Lauren’s incredible ignorance.
“Not to some they aren’t. There are millions of people who want to feel important again by controlling their lives. Politicians talk about fixing things, but don’t. Judges and lawyers talk about protecting people and don’t. Normal folks don’t want their kids to live on the Internet; they’d rather have the family veg out in front of Housewives of New York City. They don’t want fads and pop psychology. They want their boys to have jobs and their girls to get married and have babies. People like George Stewart used to decide what happened in their towns. Now someone they don’t even know, and probably didn’t vote for, does.”
“So what’s your point?” Lauren moved away and turned her back to the window. She leaned against it, thinking Edie looked softer in the midday sun then decided it was a trick of the light.
“The point is, Lauren, y
our idea of justice isn’t the same as everyone else’s. In your deepest heart you expected Caufeld to cut you some slack today. You thought that would be justice and now you’re mad because you didn’t get it. George Stewart and his wife and his kid are exactly the same. They think it would have been just if Caufeld called a halt to the proceedings, apologized and called the IRS on the carpet. So who is going to give the world the ultimate definition of justice? You? Them? Me?”
“Someone’s got to.”
“Then it will be Judge Caufeld’s definition unless you can rewrite it for him. I’ll admit George Stewart is the exception. He was pushed over the edge when the government took away his house and business for back taxes. Every person in the militia has a story like that. When they snap and cry out for justice, they terrify us because they disturb the equilibrium. We’ve got to do everything in our power to regain the status quo. We’ve got to convince everyone that our definition of justice is the right one. The Stewarts and their kind play dirty, Lauren, and if we have to get in the mud, too, then let’s do it.”
“I’ll play hardball.” Lauren wanted this conversation to end. Edie was not accommodating.
“We’ll see when push comes to shove.” Edie shrugged and sighed. “This isn’t a contest to see how much you learned from the old man, it’s a test of how fast you can think on your feet. Most people just react. Think about that. Understand it. Then do whatever you can to work around it. If you don’t, there will be anarchy of one sort or another.”
Lauren’s eyes narrowed. Edie was laughing at her.
The Mentor Page 9
