Without eyewitnesses her closing bombs. All she can do is repeat Roberto’s mom and his teachers testimony that he’s non-violent and argue reasonable doubt.
Jill isn’t a bitch. She’s doing her job. Lourdes would’ve done the same in her place. If the other side makes a mistake, seize on it. Now she’ll have to change her attitude. She’s not a defense attorney fighting for the accused. No more trashing the CA. When she puts on the robe will she change into someone unbiased and wise?
“We the jury duly empaneled and sworn do find the defendant, Roberto Borquez, guilty of armed robbery. We find the crime was of a dangerous nature.”
The words swirl in her head. This isn’t how she wanted her last trial to end. She doesn’t want to go home. She calls Carlos. No answer.
She decides to stop at her parents for a little TLC. They’d finished dinner. Her mom is washing dishes, but in a few minutes, there’s a plate of pork chops, mashed potatoes and calabacitas in front of her. Lourdes doesn’t think she’s hungry, but when she smells the food, she’s ravenous. No surprise. She’s hardly eaten in the last two days. She scarfs down her dinner, and eats seconds. Then apple pie and butter pecan ice cream. Her mom always keeps her favorite ice cream in the fridge.
“Delicioso, Mom.” Hers is the kind of family that appreciates food and has no problem when you silently enjoy it. Finished eating, the interrogation begins.
“You look tired.”
“I just finished a trial. I never get much sleep.”
“I gather it didn’t end well?”
“I guess it’s obvious. I lost and my client’s going down for a long time.”
“What was he charged with?” her father asks.
“Armed robbery.”
“Was he guilty?”
“Yes, and no.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means yes and no.”
“Tell us about the case,” her mom interjects.
“Roberto, my client, wanted some beer and didn’t have enough money. He went to the neighborhood market, took a twelve-pack to the counter, and told the clerk he wanted to buy it on credit. Even left three dollars.”
“Did he have a gun?” her dad asks.
“No, a pocket knife. The clerk said he threatened him with it. Two witnesses, brothers, said he was just fiddling around with it and never threatened anyone.”
“Didn’t the jurors believe your witnesses?”
“That’s the thing. They didn’t show. I think they were undocumented and afraid.”
“That’s not your fault, honey.”
“I waited too long to try and find them. It is my fault.” Lourdes tries to hold back tears, but in a moment she’s sobbing.
Her mom comes over and hugs her.
When her sobs subside her mom asks, “Where’s Carlos?” Lourdes doesn’t know what to say. She doesn’t want to lie, but she can’t tell the truth. As a child she thought her parents had a perfect marriage. Now that she’s older she knows sometimes they disagree, even argue, but never has her dad treated her mom badly. She’d bet her life on that.
“He’s out with some friends from his unit. He knew I’d be late tonight.” Lourdes knows her parents are skeptical. He used to wait for her after a verdict.
“I need to go home.” She’s so very tired. She wants to go to sleep and wake up before the trial, before she applied to be a judge, before Carlos changed.
SEVEN
The past week had been a mixture of confusion, apprehension and excitement. She’d finished writing memos on all her cases and started to clean out her office. The last eight years had been the best in her life. She hopes the next eight years will be as good, maybe better.
Looking to the future she interviews secretaries, picks out her robe and arranges her swearing in. She doesn’t choose to have a fancy party with a large guest list and lots of food and drink which most new judges do. She asks Judge Jacobs to swear her in, in his chambers in front of Carlos, her parents and Molly. She doesn’t feel like a celebration when she and Carlos are on the outs.
Lourdes can hardly believe she’s been with Carlos almost 18 years. In high school they’d broken up a time or two for no more than a few days. Once in college they stayed apart almost six weeks. When they got back together they got engaged. Except for his stint in the army, they had never spent a night apart after their wedding. Until last week. She and Carlos had rarely even argued until a few months after Carlos finished his service. Carlos has been moody, uncommunicative. He has nightmares. Wakes up screaming.
“Honey, tell me what’s bothering you?” She asks time and time again.
“Nothing.”
She did some research on PTSD. The symptoms sound like Carlos.
She knows he’s worried about finding a job, and if he’ll win his ‘bad paper’ appeal. Lourdes thought he had a chance. In 2014 the Secretary of Defense had issued an order favorable to people with PTSD. If a soldier has PTSD his or her appeal should be ‘liberally considered.’ Whatever that means. The order being relatively new there wasn’t a lot of case law explaining the directive. Carlos won’t admit he has PTSD which makes the appeal harder. He won’t go to a counselor or psychologist who could document his condition. Lourdes is limited to documenting his symptoms. She had worried he wouldn’t even sign the appeal, but he did without reading it.
While researching his appeal, Lourdes learned that since 2000, around 172,000 veterans had wound up with less than honorable discharges. Bad paper. Seemed like a high number. Was it fair to do this to men and women who had volunteered to serve?
Last night Lourdes made Carlos one of his favorite dinners — sour cream enchiladas followed by apple pie and chocolate ice cream. He ate heartily, but barely said a word. She’d hoped the food would soften him up.
While she cleans up, he mixes himself a margarita. “Want one?” he asks.
“No thanks.”
“Suit yourself.”
Carlos goes into the family room and turns on the TV. She hears him channel surf and finally stop on a baseball game.
She joins him and watches a few innings. Lourdes likes baseball, but she wants to talk to him about their relationship not watch sports. By the 6th, the Diamondbacks are losing 6-1. When the commercials begin, Lourdes says, “Can you please turn it down?”
Carlos rolls his eyes. “What do you want?”
“I think we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“About what’s bothering you.”
“I told you nothing.”
“You don’t act like nothing.”
“I want to watch the game.” He turns up the sound on a flooring ad. “Express Flooring is the best.” Lourdes finds that ad irritating. The woman has a harsh voice and shouldn’t sing.
For the first time Lourdes understands the expression seeing red. She feels like grabbing Carlos and shaking him. She gets up from her chair and grabs for the remote.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Carlos asks as he reaches for the remote. They struggle for a moment until Carlos pulls it away from her. He grabs her wrist squeezing tight.
“You’re hurting me.” She begins to cry.
“That’s what you get for telling me what to do.”
Lourdes runs to the bedroom. Slams the door. Later, she can’t sleep. She keeps waiting for Carlos to come to bed, apologize.
She must have drifted off. The next thing she knows the clock reads 1:25 a.m. Carlos isn’t in bed. She tosses and turns till dawn when she falls asleep. She wakes up at 8:20 a.m., realizes she’ll be late to meet Molly. She considers canceling, but wants to see her. She needs a friend.
Lourdes walks out of the bedroom to see if Carlos is in the house. Finds him asleep in the TV room. She tiptoes back to the bedroom where she dresses quickly and takes off. She doesn’t want to talk to him.
/> Another Saturday morning at Raging Sage. This time Molly anxiously awaits Lourdes. Lourdes had canceled last Saturday with a vague excuse. Now that Lourdes has moved into her chambers she rarely sees Molly, misses their daily chats.
Molly has brought along Toby, a black lab-pit bull mix she rescued. The vet thinks Toby’s about four. She was underweight when Molly got her, a month ago, but she’s already started to gain. She eats anything and everything. Molly never had a dog before. Her mother was to ‘house proud’ for something that shed. Molly promised herself when she was six months clean she’d get one. Maybe Toby will help her stay clean. One day at a time.
Just when Molly thinks she isn’t going to show, Lourdes walks in wearing jeans, a long sleeved green tee and sandals. While there’s nothing wrong with her choice of clothes, in fact Molly’s similarly dressed, Molly’s surprised. Lourdes considers casual attire to be slacks and a dressy shirt, or a dress when the weather’s warm. Jeans are when you’re home. She’s old-fashioned that way.
Lourdes has not met Toby. Love at first sight. After Lourdes finishes petting and cooing at Toby, she goes to the counter and returns with two lattes and two cranberry-orange scones. Both love to eat and are lucky to stay slim. They are not the salad and low-fat dressing type. Their friends are envious.
Toby is chewing on a bone, tail wagging. Molly smiles and looks more content than Lourdes has seen her for a long time. Maybe Toby is what she needed. Dogs are more loyal, more comforting, than men.
For a few minutes all three chew and drink. “Lourdes, you look tired. I thought being a judge would be easy compared to being a PD. Especially since you haven’t started hearing cases yet.”
“I’m still upset about the trial I lost.”
“Armed robbery or something? Your client thought he could buy the beer on credit?”
“Good memory. Yeah that one.”
“We all lose. As long as you gave it your best.”
“That’s the point. I messed up. I didn’t subpoena my witnesses in time and they disappeared.”
“Didn’t they want to testify?”
“I think they were undocumented and scared to come to court.”
“I doubt if a subpoena would have made a difference if they’re illegal and scared. Probably if they saw a court document they would have split.”
Lourdes gives Molly a half smile. “You’re a good friend.”
“So when do you start hearing cases?”
“Tuesday, I think, but I’ve got another problem. I have to learn a whole new specialty.”
“What do you mean?”
“My first trial’s going to be a family law case.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I wish. I got a call from Walter Ford, can you believe he’s the new Presiding Judge?”
“I’d believe anything when it comes to judges.” Molly grimaces. “I didn’t mean you. He’s a lightweight.”
“Said he needed to talk to me and to come to his chambers.”
“When I got there he motioned for me to sit on the couch. He sat down as close as he could without touching me. It was really creepy. He asked me if I knew Judge Fischer. I’ve never met him, but I know he’s on the bench in Cochise County. Apparently he’s involved in a custody case that every other judge recused themselves from.”
“That’s insane. You’ve never done family law.”
“I know. I told him that. He looked at me and said, ‘A judge should be prepared for any assignment.’”
“What a jerk.”
“That’s an understatement. The whole time he stared at my chest. Not that I have much to stare it.”
“That’s more than creepy.”
“I told Bev, about it.”
“Who’s Bev?”
“I’m sure I told you about her. Judge Beverly Arnold. I met her at judges school. We’re kinda friends.”
“I’ve been in front of her. She’s smart, but tough. Isn’t she pretty old?”
“Yeah, but she’s easy to talk to.” Lourdes waits for Molly to say something else, but she doesn’t. “Bev says there are rumors about him engaging in inappropriate behavior with women judges, and law clerks, but it’s all very vague.”
“Another male asshole. You’d think a judge would know better.” They both look at each other and laugh. “You are going to be assigned to the criminal bench aren’t you?”
“Yeah, also presiding over drug court.”
“You’ll be great at that.” Molly says.
Lourdes reaches down to pet Toby who seems to want attention. “Lourdes, what the hell happened to your wrist? It’s all bruised.”
Lourdes pulls her sleeve down. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like someone grabbed you too tight.”
Lourdes wonders if she can confide in Molly, but only for a moment. She’d never understand. “Don’t be silly. It’s just a bruise. When I visited my parents over the weekend a bunch of my young cousins were there. I was roughhousing with them and one of them must have grabbed my hand.”
Lourdes knows Molly doesn’t believe her, but uses her tone of voice to signal there will be no more discussion.
“How’s your new nephew?” Lourdes asks.
“He’s going to be the most spoiled boy in Tucson. The first grandchild on both sides of the family. All everyone does is argue who gets to babysit him. He’s all my sister talks about.”
“I’m the only female in my family who’s over twenty-one and doesn’t have a kid. And I hear about it constantly.”
“I wish our families, our mothers, at least would get there’s more to life than having kids.”
Lourdes has taken out her phone several times to check the time. This time, she says, “Molly, I better go. I’ve got to go grocery shopping and I still have lots of research for the trial.” They say their good byes and walk to their cars. Lourdes watches Molly put Toby in the back seat and is glad Molly decided to get a dog. It’s good for her.
Just before Molly is about to leave she walks back to Lourdes and gives her a long hug. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
EIGHT
Lourdes walks into the house not sure what to expect. Carlos is seated at the kitchen table. His wet hair is a giveaway, he recently showered. His eyes are red. The house has been cleaned and a bouquet of purple lilies sits on the kitchen table.
“I’m so sorry, Lourdes. I don’t even know what to say.”
Lourdes feels her eyes tear. She wanted an apology. Expected one. Deserved one. But an apology isn’t enough. Nor is some minor house cleaning or flowers. Carlos gets up and stands in front of her. He rolls up her sleeve and kisses the bruise that has now turned purple. To match the flowers. She’s glad there’s no alcohol on his breath. When had she started to notice?
“I’m so embarrassed. I never thought I could hurt you.”
I feel so useless. You’re a judge and I can’t even get a job that pays more than minimum wage.”
Lourdes feels confused. She loves Carlos, but he’s the one who wanted her to be a judge. Now he’s using it against her. “You’re smart and talented. I know it’s hard. But we have enough money. You can take your time,” says Lourdes.
Carlos smiles. “The whole time I was deployed, I couldn’t wait to come home and now that I’m here, I’ve fuc—, messed it up.”
She says nothing.
“Do you like the flowers?”
“They’re beautiful. But that’s not the point.” She pauses, looks at him carefully. “I never worried about you hurting me. I can’t believe you did.”
“It’s not like I hit you.”
“You grabbed my arm and hurt me.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” Lourdes says nothing. He opens his arms, but she stays where she is.
“I promise it will never happen again.”
Lourdes had represented too many clients who told their girlfriends, fiancees or wives, “It will never happen again.” Until the next time.
She remembers her first client charged with domestic violence, Harold Watson. Watson had taken a bread knife to his girlfriend and narrowly missed her eye. At the bail hearing, the judge asked his girlfriend if he was welcome to go back home. “ No he’s not. I hate him. I never want to see him again. He can rot in jail for all I care.”
Twenty-four hours later, the woman was in her office begging for his release. “I love him. He didn’t mean it.” Lourdes filed a motion for Watson’s release and the judge granted it. Less than six months later Watson was re-arrested for assault. His girlfriend, now wife, hadn’t learned a thing. For a few days she never wants to see him again. Then begs Lourdes to get him released. The third time Watson was arrested Lourdes’ caseload was too high. She was thrilled when a different lawyer was assigned. She’d heard his wife had a broken arm and a concussion.
Over the years the same scenario repeated itself too many times. It’s the rare case when the victim doesn’t want to get back with her man.
“I can’t live without him.”
“I know he really loves me.”
“He’s a good dad.”
“It will never happen again.” Not to mention most need money.
Lourdes had no problem representing these men. Like anyone else they have a right to trial. Her problem came in how to advise the women who wanted to dismiss the charges when she was concerned for their safety. She didn’t want to get their guys released and put them in harm’s way. She wanted to tell them to prosecute. The County Attorney could prosecute with or without their cooperation, but it was easier with. Her duty as a lawyer was to her client, not their victims. But as a woman she cared about the women’s safety.
Behind the Robe Page 4
