“District attorney’s office.”
“Hello, this is attorney Peter Sharp. I’m downstairs on the steps outside your office and I would like to come up and see Mister Miller, to give him conclusive evidence that will immediately clear my clients, Doctor Sherman Gault and his daughter Rita. Please tell Mister Miller that I am on a speakerphone and the public is waiting for his response.” There’s a murmur in the crowd as we wait a minute until Miller gets on the phone.
“Hello Sharp, I know what you’re doing. We’ve got the television on in our office and it’s all being taped.”
“Good, then you won’t mind if I come up and present you with some evidence.”
“Yes, I would mind. You are persona non grata in this office. You’ve already had your one bite at the apple when you hoodwinked us into dropping the charges against you and your clients last time. Fool me once, shame on you. But fool me twice, shame on me. No, you cannot come up to this office. We are not interested in anything you have to say and are still investigating your involvement in the conspiracy.” He hangs up and I make sure that their microphones pick up the dial tone that I’m left with. Now it’s my turn again, so I turn to the cameras.
“That’s it ladies and gentlemen, now you all know that we can clear our clients right now with this evidence [holding up my briefcase] but the district attorney isn’t interested in the truth, he’s only interested in railroading innocent people. That’s the type of person who you’ve elected to office. After my clients have been cleared, keep this in mind, because the next election for District Attorney is rapidly approaching”
Right on cue, Jack pulls up with the Hummer and I get away without disclosing what our positive proof is. I only tell the press that we’d rather try the case in court than on the courthouse steps.
--------------
The doc’s case has been set for trial and we’re getting ready for it. Now that the Island’s DNA results are back and we know that the doc didn’t kill anyone, Myra’s only option now is the destruction of District Attorney Bill Miller. She knows that the doctor won’t be going to jail, so all that’s left for her is revenge against her former boss, so the decision is made to let Myra take the case to trial. If everything goes according to plan, it will be a very short one. I rehearse her on the opening statement that she should treat with as much care as a President’s State of the Union speech. She will memorize it and recite it word for word, so it coincides exactly with the advance copies that will be handed out to the press on the day of trial.
Miller blows a gasket when he hears that Myra will be handling the Gaults’ defense. He files a motion with the court alleging that because she had recently been a deputy district attorney, her working for the defense on the same defendant who she had formerly tried to prosecute constitutes a conflict of interest that prevents her from handling the trial. As planned, Myra argues that this is a completely different case, charging a different crime. I’ve already done my grandstanding. My presence at the motion will only infuriate the prosecution, so we decide I should wait on the boat for everyone to return.
As expected, Myra wins the motion, and she’ll be allowed to take the case to trial. While all this is going on, Maggie’s complaint for sexual harassment is filed and served on Palmer at his penthouse in the Marina City Club. As soon as his lawyers file their answer, they get served with our set of interrogatories, and a week or so later their answers come in. Answering the written questions that are used during pre-trial discovery is an art form, because the answers must be truthful, but be as short as possible and provide little or no information that can help the other side. The trick is to hide your most important questions in what look like harmless ones, so most of the questions looked like we were playing softball: corporate info, dates of incorporation, statistics, company payroll info, and stuff like that.
Because none of the questions look damaging, they are all answered to our satisfaction and turned over to our office staff, which pays great attention to the one question we asked that was answered with the information we needed to make the case. Jack Bibberman is given his assignments and off he goes.
*****
Chapter 20
Kate worked for Palmer in the seafood restaurant as a hostess, handling reservations and seating customers. Her only other job was fending off advances from Vito Renzi, manager of the car-parking valet service. He came into the restaurant to deliver car keys to late diners and get an occasional coffee, and every time he passed by Kate he managed to grope her as she stood behind the reservation counter. Kate complained several times to Palmer, and at first it looked like she’d be an excellent witness to establish a pattern of abuse in the restaurant, but upon further questioning Jack found out that Kate not only lived with Vito for several months, but also stayed over at Palmer’s penthouse on many occasions. That raises the interesting question of whether or not a female who previously had consented to sexual advances can subsequently complain of them as harassment when they are neither consented to nor invited. A similar type of question is raised in some criminal cases when a wife accuses her husband of raping her during the marriage.
Instead of creating new cases for the Appellate Courts to consider, we advise Jack to go on to the next potential witness on the list that we subpoenaed from the restaurant’s payroll service. All persons on the list who hadn’t been paid in more than thirty days were assumed to be no longer working there, and therefore fair game for us to go after for ‘pattern’ evidence of an existing hostile work environment.
While Jack is getting witnesses lined up, I work with Myra, preparing her opening statement on the doc’s case. She finally agrees to let me do most of the writing, as long as she’s the one who gets to stand up and deliver it to the court and jury, humiliate Miller, and get all the press coverage.
In the great majority of criminal cases, time is the defense’s ally. The longer a case gets stretched out, the more chance there is for witnesses to disappear or forget what happened. Quite often victims may lose interest in a case because of the frustration of numerous continuances and delays. In the doc’s case, we want it over as soon as possible. The sooner the criminal matters are forever put to bed, the sooner the insurance money will be forthcoming, and the punitive awards, and the legal fees. No time is waived, so the district attorney is forced to follow California law and bring the defendants to trial within the statutory number of days. They usually expect defendants who are out on bail to ‘waive’ time, but there is no need for that here, because Myra wants to get in there and destroy Miller as soon as possible.
Our witness list is short and they are only expected to be in court for show, so the prosecution will realize that they are available to testify, if necessary. The list includes Nurse Judy, the two attendants who helped dig up Mrs. Gault’s grave over on Catalina Island, Jack Bibberman, our cameraman, and the lab tech who took all the DNA samples. We have several confirmed copies of the required documentation and additional copies can be obtained from the nearby Hall of Records.
As a formality, all of our witnesses are served with the proper legal papers requiring them to appear at trial. Our opening statement is finished and almost committed to memory by Myra. I work with her every evening as she rehearses in front of our mock jury consisting of Suzi, Doc, Rita, Stuart, Jack, the dog and me. The cat usually sleeps through the rehearsals. It’s going so well that one of our jurors can’t stop drooling for her. After a while she really has it down pat.
We’re ready to go to court. Extra copies of our opening statement are printed up for the press and packaged in envelopes, to be handed out on the courthouse steps the morning of the trial. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of a trial lawyer’s opening statement being given to the press like this, and it has created media frenzy. All you have to do is wave something in the air that they can’t reach and they go crazy jumping for it.
Calls are coming in every day from the high-powered journalists, begging for an advance peek. All they get
is a promise that an interview can be arranged after the trial. Larry King isn’t too happy with our answer, but he has no other choice. The National Enquirer’s phone calls aren’t accepted at all, because even if all you say is “hello” to them, they make up their own stuff and pretend like you said it. We avoid any contact with the press and instead decide to let Miller be the one making statements that he will have to eat.
As the trial date approaches, once again we’re forced to put extra security on the gate leading down to the boats. Some so-called journalists even try to get to us by boat, but we have that covered too. The Marina gave us permission to put up a temporary rope line across, between the rows of boats, so that no one can approach us by water. All the other boaters are being tremendously cooperative. It’s a small boating community, and we all stick together. There’s also no way that those vultures can pull up to the end tie and get off their little boats, because George C.’s boat completely covers that entire dock area, leaving no room for anyone or anything else. I start telling myself that George is helping us out on the case by keeping his boat there.
All of our efforts seem to be working. The news business is run like any other commercial enterprise. When the bean counters see that all their efforts are just wasting time and money, they smarten up and call off their dogs. A few independent paparazzi still hang around with their telephoto lenses, but after the sun goes down, every once in a while we shine the boat’s spotlight towards the parking lot for their night-vision viewing pleasure.
--------------
The day of the trial we hire a huge stretched limo. The world loves a good show, and we intend to give them one. Our driver picks up the witnesses first and then comes to the Marina for Doc, Myra, Jack, Rita and me. Suzi is in her stateroom pouting because she isn’t allowed to bring the dog with her to court. She decides to stay on the boat. We finally convince her that she’ll actually get a better view by staying behind and watching Court TV.
It was no problem getting Miller to stipulate to letting the cameras in there. He’s a big a ham, and the judge appears to be one too. Ever since the O.J. Simpson trial, judges have been aching for the chance to get famous. It helps their image when they decide to run for political office. Without a high-profile case being put on television, a judge can toil away for years in anonymity.
The judge is a white male. No need for them to pick and choose for this case. On high-profile cases like this, the judge might be selected for political correctness. You’ll rarely see a black judge if the defendant is black, or a female judge if it’s a rape case. That’s why they chose an Asian non-athletic judge for the O.J. trial. The defendant was a black athlete, the victims were white and the lawyers were Jewish. What choice did they have other than that barely competent Asian who obviously hadn’t the slightest idea how to control a courtroom?
It’s a good thing the limo is almost thirty feet long, because there are plenty of us. All the way downtown Myra rehearses her opening statement, receiving our ovation when it’s done, just as we pull up at the courthouse.
Jack has the press copies of Myra’s opening statement, but we don’t want them handed out before she gives it, so he keeps them in the limo, with instructions not to hand them out until he receives my call on his cell phone. The news people also know what the drill will be, so they just sit near the limo and wait. It might be an hour, or it might be several days. Everything depends on what happens up in the courtroom.
They mob us for statements, but all we do is point to the limo and remind them that copies of our opening statement will be available once it’s being given in court.
There are other questions concerning our trial strategy, and to my surprise, Myra stops them cold with a statement: “We don’t anticipate a trial in this matter. Our opening statement should convince the court and Mister Miller that a tremendous miscarriage of justice has taken place by the bringing of this case to trial. Mister Miller was offered evidence to that effect right on these very steps. Many of you were here that day covering Peter Sharp and saw how he was rejected by Mister Miller’s office. Well, Miller can’t stop the truth from coming out today.”
I’m proud of her. She really nailed it. Along with her opening statement, she must have been secretly been rehearsing that announcement to the press. No matter. She did just fine.
The rest of the cast of characters is complete when Miller strides into the courtroom with his entourage. The light isn’t that great in here because Court TV hasn’t yet turned on those thousands of watts, but from where I sit, it looks like Miller is wearing makeup. Vanity roars its ugly head.
Miller’s suit looked like they sewed it on him while he stood there. I haven’t seen clothing fit like that since watching a concert at the Greek Theater in Los Angeles. It was Nat King Cole’s final performance there and I was invited to watch the show from the band pit, courtesy of a good friend of mine who was playing in the orchestra. Being all the way on the right side of the pit next to the tympani, I had a good view of the left wings. Just before it came time for him to appear on stage, I saw Mister Cole coming from the direction of the dressing rooms. He looked great, but he wasn’t wearing any pants! My mouth dropped open, but my friend told me to relax, because it was all under control. As Cole approached the stage, two assistants were waiting there with his freshly pressed pants. They helped him on with them while the announcer was going through his intro; he stepped into the pants, closed the fly and belt, and the assistants used a portable steamer on his outfit, to remove any wrinkle that would have the audacity to exist there! He was the neatest, greatest looking performer I’ve ever seen, and Miller almost comes close. I don’t know how much that tailor-made suit he’s wearing costs, but I’m sure it’s not much less than Nat King Cole paid for that he wore that night.
Big courtrooms are saved for the big cases. Nobody likes to antagonize members of the press, so the reporters and sketch artists fill up most of the front row seats not being used by relatives of the victims or defendants. On the really big cases, remaining seats are usually given out on a lottery basis. This case isn’t in the lottery category, but the tricks played by both sides in manipulating the media make it a big draw anyway.
Miller knows that his re-election may depend on the successful prosecution of this case, so he’s decided to try it himself, instead of giving it to someone actually competent. We’ve both already stipulated to having the case heard without a jury. Judge Ronald Axelrod has a good reputation for fairness, so both sides feel good about having the case heard without a jury and we’re all happy to save the time. Miller doesn’t care that there’s no jury present, because now he can prance and perform only for the television cameras, which will carry his image to a bigger crowd of potential voters than just twelve in a jury box and some alternates. He works the room like a celebrity in a nightclub, table-hopping from one reporter to the other.
Just like a Broadway show, a hush falls over the crowd when everyone hears the low double-buzz on the clerk’s desk, signaling that the judge is going to take the bench. Court TV switches on the bright lights, little red lights start to blink on the front of each camera, and the uniformed bailiff addresses everyone in the courtroom.
“Remain seated and come to order. This Department of the Los Angeles Superior Court is now in session, the Honorable Ronald B. Axelrod presiding.” Like a choreographed performance, the judge enters the courtroom through his private back door, just as the bailiff is saying his name. I always pictured judges and bailiffs rehearsing this dance routine in an empty courtroom when no one else is around. All that seems to be missing is an off-stage Las Vegas-style announcer shouting into a microphone with a drum roll in the background “Ladies and Gentlemen, the Superior Court of California proudly presents…”
No matter how many trials you take part in, those first few minutes when the case is called and each lawyer has to stand up, state his or her name and representation for the record and announce “Ready for the Defendant, your honor,” it’s al
ways a rush. Fifteen minutes later when you’re in the midst of arguing with opposing counsel or trying to get your objection sustained, you wouldn’t notice it if the building was on fire, but those first few minutes are still always exciting.
Miller’s opening statement is good. Most of what he wanted to say was blocked by our pre-trial motions that prevent him from using any facts about the doc’s past trial for murder or previous indictment and arrest for insurance fraud. Nevertheless, he does it by the numbers, mentioning each piece of evidence he intends to introduce, to prove up each element of the crime charged in the current indictments.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen him perform where Court TV was broadcasting live, and he looks maahvalous. And, like a generous pro, he even gives the judge a chance to react for the camera, hopefully forming a bond between them as acting partners. His finale includes a promise to prove that not only is the defendant’s wife not dead, but she is sitting in the courtroom, and he will call her to the stand, to prove beyond any reasonable doubt that the defendant is guilty of conspiracy to defraud the insurance company. I estimate no less than six cases of severe whiplash in the courtroom after that announcement as heads of the press spin around, trying to figure out where the reincarnated doctor’s is seated.
By the time Miller finishes, he almost has me sold. If not for the fact that I know for sure that his case is going directly into the toilet in the next fifteen minutes, he would be assured of my vote next time he runs. Miller sits down and there is complete silence in the courtroom. You can hear the feverish note writing and sketch drawing being done by the press. Miller sits at the counsel table looking smug, no doubt feeling he has intimidated Myra into a state of fear. He glances over towards her with one of those ‘you’re in the big leagues now, kiddo’ looks. Myra just sits there, ignoring his glance. She decides to let everyone wait while her silence builds up the tension. Finally, the judge becomes anxious. “Miss Scot, would you like to make an opening statement?” Myra slowly stands. She carries no note pad or notes. She’s going to do this like we rehearsed it, from memory. I can hear the shuffle as everyone in the room starts to move to the edge of their seats.
Single Jeopardy Page 20
