In Love and Law

by Drake Koefoed

  “Poquita likes the cichlids, I think.”

  They went out to reception. Poquita wanted the cichlids.

  Will slapped the bookcases full of ancient law books. “We sell these on eBay.” Your 400 goes right here.

  Chapter 11 A Little Cat Fight, and Life Goes On. Musical Theme; Superstar by Sheryl Crow According to the news, our little sweetheart had gone to Sicily, and shared her considerable charms with a gentleman who had another to whom he had promised the various things one promises. That gentleman’s wife had whacked the heck out of poor misunderstood Marcie with, fortunately for the fashion industry, a light saucepan, rather than something like the cast iron or edged implements which had been present, and ever so beloved to the Sicilian soul, kind and wonderful people that they are. The doctors opined that a little makeup would cover it for now, and The Most Beautiful Woman in the World would look just as good as ever in a few weeks. Marcie apologized for the ‘misunderstanding’, gave tremendous amounts of money to charity, and an enormous collection of shoes to the offended lady.

  There was no need for Will to explain to her that one does not do that sort of thing in Sicily. Apparently, Marcie even knew not to poke polar bears with sticks, but one could not be sure. What went on in her mind was a mystery to the rest of humanity, and perhaps part of her charm.

  Will and Chrissie met up with her in Corsica, another place where she would be well advised to be on her best behavior, the Corsican concept of dishonor or disrespect being closely linked with violence.

  Will might have tried to explain such concepts to Marcie, but it seemed more or less useless. He merely hoped the next time it was in Paris, Amsterdam, or if it was with another woman, perhaps San Francisco.

  Luckily she had done it in Sicily where you might get killed for something like this, rather than South Central Los Angeles, where you would get blown away, no problem, no questions asked, nobody saw anything.

  Pauli Nathan Phillipa, having an assured supply of product, wanted to turn up the heat while the fire was going well. He chartered a 178 foot yacht, and sent Marcie to the Greek islands. They went all over the Aegean, and made ports of call in Turkey and Crete. They went through the Dardanelles and up to Istanbul. Once there, why not the Bosporus and visit the East Coast of Bulgaria and Romania? The Black sea was “Really pretty.” Odessa was “One of the most beautiful cities I have ever seen.” She visited Sardinia, and then the South of France, where she was so popular that the police were terrified about riots. She continued counting catalogs by the pallet. In Marseille, trucks dropped pallets of catalogs on the street, and they were stripped clean. In Paris, they went crazy. There was no question of catalogs. There were none. Phillipa shoes were close to unobtainable. They went by the railcar out of Minnesota, and they were gone. Pauli looked at the exhaustion of his point model and photographer, and called them home. The sensation was slowing to a plateau with Phillipa at an enviable spot in the women’s shoes market. They met at the corporate headquarters in Milano. “You have done it, my angels. If you work any harder, you will die from it. We have been to the peak, and it’s time to stop. If I let my workers keep pushing, I will see industrial sewing machines putting needles through people’s hands. And things even worse. I will not. I answer to my stockholders, but I also answer to God. Phillipa will go on, and my workers will send their children to my office asking for jobs that will be there for them. Phillipa owes the printers for catalogs, the tanneries, and everyone who has supplied us and worked for us. We will have the money to pay everyone in full, and much more. We will be fine.

  “Like Will, I am partly a socialist. We believe in one thing but we do another. We have made a tremendous amount of money, and I intend to share it. Phillipa is and will continue to be a kind company that treats people with the respect a human being should have. I do not take pride in that because that is what I should do. I give nothing away when I do right.” “Nor do we.” “I’ve put the posters on the Gulfstream. Go home, Will. Sign the

  posters but don’t wreck your wrist, Marcie. That container that has Phillipa painted on the side of it at your niece’s lot…We’re charging a dollar a year for the next 50 years, and that is non-negotiable.”

  * * * They came back to Oregon, and the ice was gone. They went to dinner with Hank, Carol, Chrissie, Alan and Marie. After dinner, a car came and took Marcie to the airport, and the Gulfstream took her to Louisiana.

  Chrissie watched the Gulfstream jump into the air. “I wonder what it would be like to be Marcie.”

  “I wouldn’t be Marcie for all the pigs in Kansas, Chrissie.”

  “I wouldn’t either, Will.”

  Chapter 12; Back to the law Musical Theme; Fortunate one by Credence In the morning, Will went back to the DA office. Everyone wanted to ask him about something. For the most part, he found out what they wanted to do and affirmed their decisions. He went to his office, and found the fish tanks were all done. He watched the black mollies for a while. The discs were cruising around looking happy. He had very little paperwork, because he had delegated everything. He went up front and sat on Poquita’s guest chair. She was wearing a maroon satin pantsuit with black pumps. “Nice outfit.” “Thanks. I love my cichlids.” They looked at the 400 gallon tank. The little fishes came out from the holes in between the rocks warily. “They get a little excited when they get the tubifex worms. Quint says you’re right not to worry if they get in the gravel. They get in, they eat some detritus, and then the fishes eat them. He says we can’t really have a balanced ecosystem because we want too many fishes to look at for that.” “I think that’s right.” “Come back, let’s look at the other tanks.” She hit a key. “Helen, you have incoming calls.” “OK, Poquita.” They went back to Will’s office. “Your severums have grown.”

  “They will be six inches long at maturity.” “What will you feed them then?” “They like lettuce and night crawlers.” “Lettuce?” “Get a clean leaf and cut it in bits some time and try them.” “The Discus are very dignified. They might have been the best thing

  to put in the front office.” “The Malawi cichlids are furtive and paranoid. Maybe that’s more

  appropriate.” “Quint says these are a plecostomus catfish and a spiny eel. I don’t

  know what the new fish is.” “He’s an Oscar. We might get an Arowana. Someone talked about

  trading it in. Looks like an eel with catfish whiskers. They jump, so you

  must keep the tank covered if we get him. We don’t want to come in and

  find him dead on the carpet.” Steve came in. “Will, the senior prosecutors want a conference.” “OK” Will went to the conference room, and they were all there. Steve the Mouse, of course Leslie Barens, a battered looking brunette of about 45 who ran sex

  crimes. Todd Lauren, a blonde man of about 40 with a no nonsense look. He

  ran crimes against persons, and tried cases about 4 days a week on top of

  his supervisory duties. Jessie Holt, a petite blonde who ran homicides, and had put more

  people on death row than any living lawyer in Oregon. Mick Stone, a short pudgy man with black hair who ran property

  crimes. Herb Katz, a tall thin man with curly black hair, who was as Jewish as

  his name, who did robbery and major felonies Aaron Mason, a rather ordinary looking man with brown hair who ran

  misdemeanors and miscellaneous crimes, known for his motions. Will took a seat. “I guess I’m in trouble.” Jessie opened. “You’re not providing enough direction.” “You need me to tell you how to try cases?” “No. I want you to discuss them with me. I want to know that you

  think I’m right to ask for death or not to.” Herb said “I don’t need you to tell me how to try a case either, but

  you have to plot the course our ship is going to take. What is our policy?” “To seek justice. To incapacitate the truly evil. To give those who

  simply acted foolishly a little slack. To take out the super bad guys.” Aaron asked “What is a supe
r bad property crime? When can I meet

  with you and see what you think of a specific case? Should we pursue the

  car thieves?” “OK guys, I understand this problem, and I will address it by going to

  your offices and letting you yell at me, vent, ask, whatever you need. Is

  there another issue?” Todd spoke up. “We need our front man. You need to announce and

  explain office policy. You say you will take the heat, but you have to

  announce the policy, and then when we do what you told us to do, we say

  ‘he said to’, then you will really be taking the heat.” “This is generally perceived as a problem?” They nodded. “OK, so I need to get out in front and show the colors.” Leslie said “Will, crimes against women begin with attitudes. Yours

  is that women must be protected. That’s real sweet. But you have to take that to the public, that we are doing just that. In this room, we all know you would take the child molesters, pimps and rapists and throw them in a wood chipper. We also know you can’t state it quite that bluntly on Channel 2,

  but we do see how you can talk. Talk for us.” Herb spoke. “We need to get across that innocent people die in

  robberies. This isn’t a movie where the guys who do a heist are not so bad.

  They are very bad. Tell people about it. You’re the preacher. You don’t

  need to tell us, you need to tell them.” Mick said. “You are perceived as the DA who went to take pictures of

  Marcie Della. We don’t mind that but we don’t want our office to be

  perceived as dilettantes and piddlers. Get out in front and roar a little. Remind everyone that you’re not some wimp with a camera. Don’t get me

  wrong; if I could make a camera do what you can, you would need someone

  else to do property crimes. But we need the image of a tough, no nonsense

  DA office or we will not get much done.” Will made the rounds of the office and discussed cases with every

  ADA who was in the office. He said a lot of ‘right’ ‘I think so’ ‘Sounds

  good to me’ and such phrases. He made a few suggestions, and poured in a

  lot of ‘I have confidence in you’ ‘your judgment won’t be questioned’ ‘It’s

  up to you’ ‘you know the facts, you decide’ ‘it’s your call’ ‘try your case

  your way’. On some serious cases, he shook out the prosecutor’s thinking, and

  made them explain their severity or leniency. His criticism was as mild as a

  June southerly. In the early afternoon, he got a chance to correct his second

  deficiency. Someone robbed a convenience store and shot the clerk. The

  media descended, and Will came out. “Mr. District Attorney, will this suspect be charged with capital

  murder?” “He might be. I will assign the case to a DA who knows about this

  area, and he or she will evaluate the case, and decide whether or not to seek

  it. I will review the decision but it is unlikely I will change it.” “So you don’t tell your assistants what to do?” “These are professional prosecutors. Lawyers with doctorate degrees. Not a janitorial crew. The ability to think and make important decisions is

  part of their job description. If I confer with a DA and consider his decision

  to be completely wrong, I will change it. But I do not micromanage. I tell

  my assistants to do justice, and to conduct themselves with dignity and

  honor. Yes, I tell them what to do. I’m responsible to the People for what

  they do. They are doing what I told them to.” “Will, do we have a violent crime problem?” “Since a guy named Cain got out of hand, we have had.” “What’s going to be done about it?” “About what has been. It sort of works. With a little more freedom

  of action for my ADAs, constructive criticism, and a little help, I hope to

  make this office more effective in doing our part.” “Are the police doing their part?” “Oh, yes. They bring us more than we can prosecute or jail. They

  should have increases in uniforms and detectives both, but who wants to

  pay for it? I would suggest we will pay more in losses to crime than a few

  more cops would cost, but nobody will listen. We could put pressure on the

  politicians to stop using the police to sit by the side of the road looking to

  write speeding tickets just for the money.” “Have you ever driven faster than the speed limit, Will?” “Roll up a newspaper. I’ve been a bad kitty.” “Will, do you have a comment about Marcie Della and her latest

  indiscretions?” What that referred to, Will did not want to know. “I have already

  said what I have to say about her on her web site.” “There is almost nothing from you on there.” “What I had to say about Marcie, I said with the camera. I probably

  better get back to work.” He went back in, and having seen the seniors already, he decided to

  do the juniors from the newest up. He went to the office of Rachel

  Solomon. Rachel was a small girl with a nice figure and long black slightly

  curly hair. She wore a print dress in black with orchids all over, black

  stockings and pumps. “Rachel, do you have time to talk, or you need to get stuff done?” “Both. Come on in, Will.” She stood up to shake hands. He sat in her guest chair. “So, are you getting the help you need?” “Sure. Lots of guys are helping me with things.” “Advantages of being a pretty girl. Am I doing what you need?” “I don’t know what you do. Aaron waits until I ask, but he always

  helps. He told me when I started that we didn’t have jail space for all these

  morons, so I should try cases when I want to, and if I lose a shoplift, it

  doesn’t really matter.” “Right. We got lots of them. I want you trying felonies in six

  months, if you can do it. I need prosecutors who can take out the real bad

  guys. What you’re doing now is trying to quickly resolve a lot of

  unimportant cases. We can’t stop prosecuting people for stealing candy

  bars. Merchants won’t put them on the shelf if someone can take them and

  nothing happens. So you make good offers, and if they refuse, you try it like a real case. Nothing wrong with you trying a case every day. You return calls at lunch with a sandwich at your desk, and you get rid of 10 cases with probation, whatever. I’ll see that you get enough cases to get in high gear and stay there, and not so many that you can’t go dancing on

  Saturday night.” “I’m definitely in high gear, but it’s hard to keep up with this. And I

  don’t have anyone asking me to go dancing anyway.” “How many open cases?” They rough counted them. About 250. “If you’re getting this much,

  we’re buried deeper than I thought. May I deal some cases for you?” He turned on the speakerphone. He dialed the defense lawyer’s

  number. “Girard Hawkins law office.” “William Ames for Girard.” “Girard. How are you Will?” “Good. Busy. Want to talk about Jon Erikson.” “What happened to Rachel Solomon?” “She’s right here. I’m just helping out. Make an offer, you don’t

  want it, take it off the chalkboard. He’s in on a shoplift. 5 days already.

  Time served, considered served, Deferred adjudication six months standard

  terms.” “I’ll have to ask my client, but I think that is a go. He’d be silly to

  turn it down.”

  “Calendar for the 18th, 21st or 23rd. Rachel has notes. She’ll see you in the morning you pick. Got anything else with her?”

  “Randolph, Carl Jr.”

  “Possession of marijuana by influence? No NCIC. Infraction treatment $200. Does he have the $200?”

  “Sure. I also have Paul Lane, possession with intent to sell.”

  Will looked at the file. Just enough cocaine to assume he was going to sell it and convict him of something he may never have don
e or intended to do.

  “Simple possession. A week of road crew 12 months probation. We want standard conditions, but not the drug tests.”

  “Great. I’ll ask, but he is going to have to take that. That’s it for clients.”

  “Hold, please.”

  Will put the call on hold. “Would you go dancing with him?”

  “Office policy…”

  “Is that you can, but no handing over inside information. Talk about the meaning of the universe, not the office’s business.”

  “In that case yes.” “Girard, do you want to ask this girl out for Saturday night?” “I’m asking.” “8 pm good for you, Girard?” “How about 6 so we can go to dinner first?” “You’re on.” She gave him her home address and phone. “Will has a lot to do, I imagine.” “I bet. See you Saturday.” They hung up.

  “So now you do some more of the same, Rachel. Clear out the cases you don’t need much for. Get the in custody guys who have done too much time out of there. Save the space for bad guys. Talk to Aaron if you don’t know what to offer. You’re good. Girard is probably not very handsome by comparison to what you could get, so he’d better treat you like a princess.”

  She blushed, and Will left. He went through the rest of the new kids with similar help, and then to Aaron.

  “Come in, Will.”

  “Aaron, Rachel has 250 pending cases. She’s been here a month.”

  He closed the door and sat down.

  ‘We’re buried, Will. One of the things they shyly didn’t explain at the meeting. We need you to do something about this caseload.”

  “Let me see what the Chief of Police can do.” He dialed. “Roger Warrington.”

  “Will Ames.”

  “Long time no hear. You were in Europe and now you’re here.”

  “Reason I take up your valuable time, Chief, the office is buried in cases. I’ve got an ADA with one month experience and 250 open files.”

  “That strikes me as a little much.”

  “We would work her to death, and she would quit so she could get some sleep, and there goes all our training effort.”

  “I let a detective start working 80 hours a week, and the quality goes down, he burns out, and next thing I know, he’s gone.”