Behind the Robe: A Novel © 2019 by Barbara Sattler. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN (Print): 978-1-54397-124-8
ISBN (eBook): 978-1-54397-125-5
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination for are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events is entirely coincidental.
Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
ABOUT THE AUTHOR AND ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my fans: Mrs. Cynthia Corsi and Mary Lawrence
Dedicated to Kenney and Ben
ONE
“The Governor’s office, line 2.”
Could it be? Her heart beats faster. Is it possible?
“This is Lourdes Velasquez.”
“Good morning. I’m going to put the Governor on.”
“Ms. Vel-ass-quiz” (he butchers her last name). “This is Governor Richard .
Congratulations. I’ve chosen you to fill the vacancy in Division 5. I’m sure you’ll do a terrific job and add diversity to the Superior Court bench. We are always in need of qualified women like you.”
Does he have the right person? She remembers a carpet cleaner who got a call from the Nobel Prize Foundation congratulating him for wining the Nobel Prize for Chemistry. Right name. Wrong guy. “Thank you, sir.” That’s all she remembers of their conversation. She’s not even sure she wants to be a judge. Can she send people to prison? Her whole career she’d struggled to keep her clients free. Her identity is being a public defender.
Judges have to follow the law. Even if you don’t believe it’s correct. Lourdes has never used drugs, but she doesn’t believe possession should be illegal that that addicts should be sent to prison. She’s totally against the death penalty.
What about sentencing? Judges have less and less discretion. She’ll be bound by plea agreements and mandatory prison sentences. Often fairness doesn’t enter into who goes to prison and for how long. What if she’s put on the civil or family court bench? She knows nothing about either. Her entire career’s been criminal law. She isn’t interested in divorces or corporations suing each other. She tries to picture herself in a black robe presiding over a courtroom filled with prosecutors, defense attorneys, court staff, court watchers and jurors. She can’t.
Carlos had persuaded her to apply. She should have ignored him, but she didn’t think she had a prayer. She gave in to get him off her back. Maybe she should have bought a lottery ticket. She’s a Latina, Democrat. The Governor’s a Republican. His prior picks have all been Anglo males.
She never thought her name would end up on his desk. She had blown the interview with the mostly Anglo Trial Court Commission with her honest answers:
“Yes, minority defendants get tougher sentences.”
“No, I don’t think undocumented people should be denied bail.”
“Of course the death penalty isn’t a deterrent. It’s racist and inhumane.”
Since juries, not judges, decide if someone should be put to death she can’t figure out why they asked her that except to sniff out the non-believers. Those answers should have been the end of her.
She’s totally in shock when the Commission picks her in addition to two white male Republicans, David Atkins and Clark Thompson. Breathes easier when she realizes she’s the token Democrat. Token woman. No way would the Governor choose her.
The word on the street is David Atkins, a partner at Higgins and Leto, is a shoo-in. He’d been on law review, top of his class and clerked for the Arizona Supreme Court. His firm is considered one of the best in Arizona and has represented big names in civil litigation. He has a reputation for honesty and is even a decent guy.
Clark Thompson, her other opponent, is also a partner in a civil firm. Lourdes didn’t think he had done well in law school. Someone told her he barely scraped by. She knows he held several jobs before he landed a slot at O’Conner and Masters, a small civil firm with lots of attorney turnover. They advertise on TV, buses and the new trolley. BIG LETTERS, BIG PROMISES, no substance. Clark’s active in the state and county bar associations and Republican political organizations. The rap on him, ‘untrustworthy,’ a ‘jerk’ and a ‘racist’.
Lourdes’ only legal job is eight years at the public defender’s office. She doubts the Governor cares she has also been a waitress, file clerk, secretary and camp counselor. She was in the top quarter of her law school class, but wasn’t on law review nor had she clerked for a judge. This is her first try for a judgeship.The other two have applied before. She knows lawyers who have tried more than twenty times, unsuccessfully. She’s legally qualified, but doesn’t know the right people, the 1%. She hasn’t schmoozed politicians and never will.
Very few people knew she applied. Her parents, of course, and Molly O’Rourke, a colleague and her best friend. Not Rick Garcia, president of the Minority Bar Association, nor Steve Larkin, the head of the PD’s office. Both could’ve helped and would be angry when they found out she’d applied and hadn’t solicited their support. Especially Larkin. He’d always been a good boss. She could hear him, “I’d hate to lose you Lourdes, you’re a great attorney, but I could have helped. I have clout in the legal world.”
She dials Molly’s office.
“Molly O’Rourke.”
“Molly, it’s me. Come to my office. I need to talk. Now.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Molly is tall, model-thin with long thick red hair. She’s wearing an emerald green dress with a matching scarf and green eye make-up. She looks perfectly put together. Only the hollows under her eyes are evidence of her personal battle.
“Anything the matter, Lourdes? Something happen with Carlos?”
“No, nothing like that. You’re not going to believe it. The Governor just called. He picked me.”
“Wow. Our asshole conservative Republican Governor picked you?”
“I can’t believe it either. I thought Atkins was a shoo-in.”
“Get sworn in immediately in case he changes his mind.”
They both laugh. “I’m not sure I want to be a judge.”
“It’s too late for that. You’ll be great. The bench needs people who care about fairness. And who aren’t pro prosecution.” Molly smiles at Lourdes. “I’m going to miss you. The who
le office will. When are you leaving?”
“Whoa, Molly. I’m still in shock. You know I only applied because Carlos pushed me into it. I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it.”
“Of course you will. You’re passionate and smart. Half the judges are lazy morons. The rest are stupid except Jacobs.”
Melissa, Lourdes’ secretary buzzes again. Was Molly right? The Governor’s calling to change his mind, tell her he’d made a mistake.
“A David Atkins, line 1.”
What did he want? “This is Lourdes.”
“Hi, Lourdes, David Atkins. The governor’s office just called. Congratulations. I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you. All good. I hope we get a chance to meet sometime.”
“I’d like that,” Lourdes says.
“Was that Atkins?”
“Can you believe it? He called to congratulate me. He’s the one who should have gotten it.”
“Rumor has it he’s very fair. I gotta go. I’m meeting a client at probation. You’ll be great. We’ll talk later.”
Lourdes is stunned. She still can’t believe the man she beat out would call to congratulate her.
A knock on her door. It’s Melissa.
“Lourdes, what’s wrong with you? You have a hearing on Crawford at 10:00. It’s 9:55. You had better move it.”
“You’re right. I’m on my way.” She grabs the Crawford file and heads for the elevator. She’d filed a motion to continue Crawford’s trial. Poor man’s in the hospital. Pneumonia, probably from living on the streets. Another veteran casualty.
She hurries to the courthouse but she’s late. Judge Jacobs has taken the bench and is hearing another matter. A favorite with most public defenders, he’s fair, listens, and treats lawyers with respect. He rarely yells at people for being late. Only if it’s habitual. Lourdes makes a note of these traits.
She takes a seat in the gallery. “Congratulations, Lourdes.” She turns and sees Clark Thompson, the other lawyer the governor didn’t appoint.
“What are you doing in criminal court? I didn’t think your firm did anything but civil?”
“We usually don’t, but a client’s son got a DUI. We’ll probably find someone else to handle it after this hearing.” Lourdes looks at Jacobs hoping he’ll call either her case or Thompson’s. Thompson makes her nervous. She doesn’t want to talk to him. She could move to another seat, but doesn’t want to seem rude under the circumstances.
Finally Thompson gets up, whispers loud enough so half the courtroom can hear, “You realize the governor only picked you because you’re a Mexican.”
That hurts. There it is again. Anytime a minority does well some Anglo will smirk, ‘It’s because of affirmative action.’ She remembers first year in law school overhearing two white guys talking, “That Anthony only got in because he’s black.” Lourdes went to high school with Anthony. He’s one of the smartest people she’s ever met. She’s thrilled when one of the two guys flunked out, and the other watched Anthony receive numerous awards at graduation.
Lourdes looks at him, says nothing. Everything she can think of to say would come back to bite her. She’s saved when she hears the judge call State v. Crawford.
“Lourdes, I mean Judge Velasquez, congratulations. You’ll be a great addition to the bench.”
Before Lourdes can argue for a continuance, the prosecutor stands, “Your Honor, the state doesn’t oppose Ms. Velasquez’s motion. And let me add my congratulations,” says Rick Wilford appearing for the State. She smiles to herself. He’s never treated her with respect before.
Lourdes looks back at Thompson and smiles, glad she didn’t respond.
The job already has some perks.
TWO
Lourdes leaves the office at 5 p.m., a rarity. When she arrives home Carlos is sprawled in front of the TV watching Sports Center. A quick glance around the house, same condition she’d left it this morning. A little worse, perhaps.
“You’re home early. What’s the occasion?”
“Well, I have some news.” Carlos looks at her, but doesn’t say a word.
“I’m a judge.”
He jumps up and gives her a big hug. “I told you you’d get it. That’s wonderful. We can start a family now.”
“I just got a big time position. I can’t ask for maternity leave in a month or two.”
“You’ve always told me how easy judges have it, how they work about four hours a day and take vacations all the time.” Public defenders’ favorite pastime is trashing judges and prosecutors. Judges are lazy, have robe fever; prosecutors are cruel, unfair and don’t know which defendants deserve compassion. “When did you find out?”
“The Governor called this morning.”
“Why didn’t you call me right away?”
“I’m still in shock. I haven’t told my boss, my secretary, even Mom and Dad.”
“You’ve told Molly?”
“Yes.”
“Figures.”
“Come on, Carlos, let’s not fight. You wanted me to get this job. Let’s go out and celebrate.”
“I’ve gotta take a shower. Call your parents and let them know.”
Her mom’s thrilled. Can’t wait to call every extended family member including third cousins she hasn’t talked to in years, high school friends, and folks she’s been feuding with longer than Lourdes has been alive.
Her dad’s reaction is mixed. He’s proud, but concerned it’ll be hard to have a family with such a tough job. He also distrusts the judicial system after what happened to his brother. Remember mija, family first. Right dad. You and Carlos.
Lourdes hears another voice and realizes her younger brother must be home. “Let me talk to Stephen.”
“Hey, kiddo what are you doing home? You flunk out?”
“Course not. I just don’t study 24/7 like you. I’m going to Flagstaff to snowboard with some friends. Came home to get my board. Mom is so excited. Do I have to call you ‘Your Honor’?”
“No, but I expect you to stand when I enter the room.” They laugh. Talk a bit more. Lourdes says her goodbyes and hangs up.
On special occasions, Lourdes and Carlos eat at El Charro. Both have fond memories of family celebrations held there when they were children. Birthdays, Mother’s Day. The day her dad got promoted to foreman. Lourdes remembers her first taste of the rich, creamy Mexican hot chocolate, one of the restaurant’s specialties.
When Lourdes and Carlos started dating they carried on the tradition. The first time Carlos met her family they ate here. The first time Lourdes met his. Even though it’s a weekday, the restaurant’s crowded. As the hostess leads them to a center table, Carlos complains, “Not this one.” He points to a table in the back. No one is seated there, but it hasn’t been cleaned. After some conversation Lourdes can’t hear, the woman takes them to the table Carlos wants. She leaves menus, but neither needs them. Lourdes orders green corn tamales, her favorite. Carlos always has a carne seca burro. Tonight he also orders a cheese crisp appetizer.
“Want a margarita?” Carlos asks.
“Okay,” Lourdes agrees though tomorrow’s a work day. Drinking has never been an integral part of their relationship. Once in a while he’d have a beer after work or a margarita if they went out. She’d have a glass of wine. That changed after Carlos’ deployment. Since then drinking is part of his life. Too much a part. At least he doesn’t use drugs like some of the guys.
She watched her best friend abuse alcohol. She recognizes the signs. Lying. Denial. Molly has quit drinking. It hasn’t been easy. She’d had help, a lot of help. AA, Jack, and her sponsor. Still, she’d fallen off the wagon. Many times. Whenever Lourdes brings up Carlos’ drinking, he blows up. She hopes he’ll stay reasonably sober tonight. They haven’t been
out to celebrate in a long time.
“I’m not sure about this judge thing.”
“What do you mean you’re not sure?”
“I never planned on being a judge. I don’t know if I can be unbiased if a PD’s in front of me.”
“I’m sure you can learn. You did well in law school, at the public defender’s office. You’ve done well at everything you’ve tried.”
I’m not sure he’d give me a good grade in being a wife. “My dream was to be a public defender. I wanted to help people, especially people like us.”
“Another,” Carlos waves his glass at the waitress as she places the cheese crisp on the metal platter.
“I wanted to make sure that we got fair representation. You know what happened to Tio Andres. I don’t want that to happen to anyone else.”
“You can do more as a judge. You always said minorities get tougher sentences. Make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I ran into this guy, Thompson, one of the lawyers who made the top three. He said I got the job because I’m Mexican. Even the governor mentioned making the bench more diverse.”
“Who the hell cares? Anglos have gotten everything for hundreds of years.”
“I care. I want the job because I deserve it, not because my parents were born across the line. You think I got the job because I’m Mexican?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m the one who persuaded you to apply.”
The waitress brings their dinner. “I’ll have another.” Carlos holds up his glass.
“Maybe you’ve had enough. If you want me to get pregnant, you’ll have to stop drinking.”
“A couple hours ago a baby was out of the question. When I’m going to be a dad, if I’m going to be a dad, I’ll stop.” Sure. She remembers Molly, “I’ll stop when I have a trial, a murder trial, an innocent client.”
Lourdes has no intention of getting pregnant any time soon. A younger version of herself wanted nothing more than kids. But that was with a younger version of Carlos. The two of them have been together since high school. She’d barely dated anyone else. Both sets of parents and all their friends had expected them to get married.
Behind the Robe Page 1
