John Stone Law

by Dave Derin

“I’m on it,” the cowboy lawyer said with a nod, then put on his hat and adjusted the white button-down shirt that was tucked into dark-wash jeans held up by his shiny Texas belt buckle. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find her.”

  Skip walked out of the back door, and his truck engine revved loudly as he pulled out of the parking lot. I paced around the office and mentally reviewed the pertinent details of the case. When Susanna arrived for her two o’clock appointment, I’d had way too much caffeine and plenty of time to think, so I was wired and ready to go. She wore a jean skirt that fell halfway down her toned thighs and a forest-green top that made her emerald eyes appear darker green.

  “Hey, Susanna,” I greeted her as she walked up the stairs in strappy sandals that exposed her manicured red toenails.

  “Hi,” she squeaked, then let out a tittering laugh. “Sorry, y’all. I’m so anxious right now I feel like I might pass out on y’all.”

  “Here, sit down,” I took her arm and guided her toward Skip’s office chair, then helped her sit down. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Yes,” Destinee jumped into action. “We have coffee, water, or soda. What can I get for you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine, I feel better now that I’m sitting down in the air conditioning,” the redhead fanned her flushed face with her hand. “On second thought, let me get a bottle of water, please.”

  My smartly dressed assistant retrieved a bottle of water from the new mini-fridge and handed it to Susanna, who opened it and took a large swig.

  “Feeling better?” I grinned at her as she gulped down another sip of icy water and Destinee fanned her glowing face with a stack of copy paper.

  “Much better, thank you,” she nodded and tossed her thick red curls over her shoulder. “Whew, okay let’s get goin’.”

  “Okay,” I began, then rolled my chair in front of Skip’s desk and sat down in front of her. “So, let’s review what’s going to happen in court tomorrow.”

  “Wait,” the redhead looked around the office. “Where’s Skip?”

  “He’s on a little mission for me right now,” I said flippantly, then leaned back in my chair and tried to control my breathing and appear calm. Even though I was confident that Skip would deliver our witness, my heart raced with the worry of the unknown.

  “Oh, okay,” my client nodded as if my answer fully satisfied her, then looked up at me with her gorgeous green eyes. “So, still no word from the prosecutor?”

  “Not yet,” I shook my head slowly and instinctively felt my pocket for my phone. “Don’t dwell on that, though. They might be pushing for a trial, or they might not, but right now we only need to worry about convincing Judge Williamson to believe our version of events so it doesn’t get to that point.”

  “You mean the truth,” Susanna crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Yes,” I smiled and let out a chuckle. “I meant the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

  “So help me God,” the porcelain doll whispered as she looked at her lap then closed her eyes.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I stood up and fished out my phone. Benji Price’s name appeared on the screen, and I smiled when I saw it then turned the phone to Susanna so she understood why I was excited.

  “Speak of the devil,” I whispered to Susanna.

  “Answer it, answer it,” Susanna squealed and wiggled her slender finger at my phone.

  “John Stone,” I said calmly and held up a hand to quiet my hyperactive client who giggled quietly and bounced in her chair. I’d explained my theory that if the prosecutor offered a settlement before the preliminary hearing, they usually didn’t want to take it to trial, so depending on what Mr. Price had to say would determine our approach in court tomorrow.

  “Hey John, it’s Benji,” a thin voice replied. “How ya’ doin?”

  “Hanging in there,” I responded jovially. “You alright, Benji? You sound tired. I mean, no offense or anything, I know you’re an incredibly busy man.”

  “No, it’s fine, John,” he said and sighed. “I am exhausted. It’s just been a long couple of weeks.”

  “I completely understand,” I replied. “So, what’s up?”

  “Well, we’d like to offer a settlement deal for your client, Susanna Jenkins,” he answered, and his throat sounded tight.

  “We’d entertain the idea, depending on what you have to offer,” I winked at Susanna who watched me intently with round eyes.

  “Twenty years in federal prison,” Benji murmured. “Followed by ten years of supervised release and all the standard parole protocol, no drugs, no alcohol, no association with known troublesome parties, can’t leave the state, you know, the usual.”

  A laugh erupted from my mouth before I could stop it, and I slapped my hand over my mouth and held the phone away from my face while I took a deep breath and composed myself.

  “Mr. Price,” I said after I’d released a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but that is quite literally a laughable offer.”

  “Now remember, Mr. Stone,” the prosecutor’s voice became stern. “Your client is facing a series of crimes punishable by death, or at least life in prison. I highly suggest you at least speak with your client about our generous offer and consider it before we get in too deep.”

  “You have nothing but weak circumstantial evidence against my client,” I replied with matched intensity. “How about we prepare a joint motion to dismiss all charges against Miss Jenkins and present it to Williamson tomorrow?”

  “You know I can’t do that, John,” Benji responded wearily.

  “Can’t, or won’t?” I asked firmly.

  “We have her fingerprint, John,” the prosecutor muttered. “It’s solid evidence.”

  “Benji, you now have no chemical evidence whatsoever, my client has definitive proof that she was on a cruise ship in the Bahamas when you allege she purchased that laptop, and even her ex-boyfriend has agreed to testify that he knows she couldn’t be involved,” I recited the inconsistencies in their allegations and waited for his response.

  “That is correct,” he said quietly after a moment of pure silence.

  “What is going on, Benji?” I asked softly.

  “Listen, John,” he sighed after a short pause. “We’re getting a lot of pressure from higher-ups to take this case as far as it will go. I’m sorry, but the decision is not up to me this time. That’s the final offer.”

  “In that case, the settlement offer is denied. We’ll see you in court tomorrow,” I affirmed, then hung up the phone and looked up to Susanna’s cat-like eyes trained on my phone.

  “What just happened?” She asked, then raised a finger to her mouth and chewed it nervously.

  “They offered a terrible deal, twenty years in prison,” I started to explain.

  “Twenty years?” Susanna shrieked as tears welled in her eyes then streamed down her flushed face.

  “We aren’t going to accept it,” I assured her. “We’ve got some solid evidence to debunk theirs. This is just all part of the process.”

  “It really is,” Destinee added with a smile. “The prosecution will usually offer some outrageous plea deal, but we aren’t going to take it, so don’t even worry about it.”

  “Whew, okay,” the beautiful redhead wiped her face with her hands, then fluffed her voluminous curls.

  “According to the memo the judge’s clerk sent out yesterday,” I said as I picked up the unfolded letter from my desk. “She wants the prosecution’s witnesses to testify first, then I’ll cross examine, then we’ll call our witness, okay?”

  “Right,” Susanna nodded, and her golden-red curls shook and glistened under the light from the Mordatelli fixture on the ceiling.

  “If we still have time, then she wants to move on to the presentation of evidence,” I continued to explain. “If not, usually they’ll call a break, or what’s called a recess, until the judge wishes to resume the hearing.”

  My client nodded silently and gnawed on her fingernails that we
re now decorated with chipped red paint. I spent some time and explained where she should park and enter the building, what was not allowed inside the courtroom, and expressed the importance of her remaining silent while I did all of the talking during the hearing. We parted ways at 5:00 p.m. that evening, and I went straight home, ordered a meat-lovers pizza for delivery, grabbed a Yuengling from the fridge, and allowed myself to relax until the doorbell rang. While I chilled out on the couch, I received a text from Skip that let me know he’d located Myrtle, set her up in a hotel in Dallas, and was going to keep an eye on her until the hearing. According to his message, she was a slippery old fish. I enjoyed my deep-dish pizza and beer on the eve of my first federal preliminary hearing and went to bed surprisingly at peace that night.

  I woke up to my alarm the next morning and jumped out of bed to get ready for the most important hearing of my solo career thus far. I quickly showered, shaved, and combed my thick, dark hair, then wrapped my towel around my waist and stood in front of my closet. I selected my best solid black suit and paired it with a light-blue shirt and silver pinstripe tie. After I’d checked my reflection in the mirror, I made a cup of coffee in a travel mug, then headed toward the elevator.

  The doors slid open and revealed the charming Katerina Volkov dressed in black spandex gym attire. Her short, jet-black hair was held back by a white headband which revealed bright pink earbuds in her delicate ears. She stared intently at the screen and didn’t notice me as she scrolled through her phone, so I slipped in the elevator and pressed the button for the parking garage. I stood silently and studied her perfectly sculpted arms, then followed the divet down her back to her perky bottom. When I glanced back up at her, her eyes were still glued to her phone.

  “Good morning, Miss Volkov,” I said loudly so she could hear me over her headphones.

  “Oh,” the petite beauty jumped and turned to face me with wide eyes, then smiled when she realized it was me and playfully slapped my arm. “John, you scared me.”

  “That was not my intention,” I grinned, then rocked back on my heels. “But I am still curious about why you cancelled our date the other weekend.”

  “I told you,” she raised an eyebrow at me, then crossed her athletic arms under her breasts. “Something came up.”

  “Ah,” I nodded and cleared my throat. “The old something-came-up routine, I see. Are you sure you weren’t washing your hair?”

  She stared at me with dark doe eyes, then huffed and replied, “Fine. Tonight then. We’ll do dinner tonight.”

  “Oh,” I made an exaggerated frown. “I’m sorry, but I actually can’t tonight. I’m heading into a pretty important federal hearing and am not sure where today will lead yet.”

  The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby level, and Katerina sauntered out of the elevator, then turned, gave me a wink, and said, “Another time, perhaps.”

  The doors slid closed, and I leaned against the back wall of the elevator and sighed. As I cruised toward the federal courthouse downtown, I called Skip and confirmed he and Myrtle were ready.

  “Well,” he grumbled. “She’s awake and getting dressed, but we might be a few minutes late. I’ll get her there, don’t worry.”

  I pulled into the courthouse parking lot at 7:20 a.m., which gave me an hour and forty minutes to meet up with Susanna and Skip before the 9 a.m. hearing. I grabbed my briefcase, made my way through security, and trudged toward the large double doors to the courtroom.

  “Mr. Stone,” a timid voice rang out in the silent hall. I looked over and saw Susanna dressed in a well-tailored cream business suit with a green silk shirt that made her gorgeous green eyes even more mesmerizing. She sat on one of the wooden benches that lined the marble-floored hallway outside of the courtroom.

  “Hey, Susanna,” I swiftly strode to meet her, and she stood to shake my hand. “Feeling alright this morning?”

  “Kinda feel like I’m going to vomit,” she said with a weak smile. “But I’m hangin’ in there.”

  “Skip is bringing one of our witnesses over shortly,” I explained. “And Roland will be here a little before 9 a.m.”

  She nodded at me, then we sat and made small talk until a security guard in a khaki uniform unlocked the double doors at 8 a.m. and we were allowed to be seated. My phone buzzed, so I glanced down and saw a text from Skip.

  “On the way. I should get hazard pay for this shit.”

  I chuckled at Skip’s half-joke, then turned to Susanna and relayed, “Skip and Ms. Jones are on their way now.”

  I heard chatter behind us, so I turned and saw the prosecution team enter the room and idle around their table. Benjamin Price was the only attorney on their team who sat down immediately, and I noticed he looked haggard and had dark circles under his eyes that hadn’t been there at the arraignment. Roland and his wife were the next people to enter the courtroom, and as soon as Susanna saw him she turned around in her seat and stared down at her lap. I stood up and walked over to my college buddy and his tolerant wife.

  “Hey, Ro,” I shook his hand, then leaned over and gave his wife a one-armed hug. “Good to see you again, sweetie.”

  She nodded at me as her eyes bored a hole in the back of Susanna’s head, then she turned and glared at her husband.

  “Why don’t you two sit on the first row, behind me,” I suggested and pointed to the seats farthest away from Susanna on the witness row.

  “Sounds good, man,” my blonde friend replied, then he and his wife sat down and stared straight ahead in silence.

  I unpacked my briefcase and arranged my stacks of legal pads, discovery documents, and copies of filed motions on the table in front of me, then reviewed all of my talking points in my head. About fifteen minutes later, Skip strode through the open double doors with his black cowboy hat held against his chest. He wore a classic black suit, white collared shirt, and shiny black leather boots with a Western bolo tie hung around his neck. His face was clean shaven except for his thick mustache, and he ran his wrinkled hand over his white hair to smooth it as he walked toward our table.

  I stood up when I didn’t see Ms. Jones with him, then grinned when I realized it was because she was so short. The green-haired lady tottered behind him in a lime sundress and clutched a white purse to her breast. Skip whispered something to her and pointed at the front row, so she pushed her way past Roland and his wife and plopped down on the padded bench a few feet away from them.

  “Good morning, Ms. Myrtle,” I turned around in my chair and grinned at her. “How are you today?”

  “Old,” she huffed. “Same as yesterday.”

  “Ain’t she a peach?” Skip chuckled then sat down in the chair beside Susanna.

  “Mmhmm,” I pursed my lips and nodded, then turned back and surveyed my files. The courtroom hummed louder as more people and court staff entered and the space quickly filled. The court reporter entered the courtroom in a beige pantsuit and took her position at the station near the judge’s bench. My heart raced faster as the clock ticked closer and closer to 9:00 a.m., and I jumped when the bailiff entered the room and cleared his throat.

  “All rise for the Honorable Augusta Williamson.”

  Chapter 16

  Everyone in the courtroom stood to their feet, except for Myrtle Jones who grumbled something about her bad knees, as Judge Augusta Williamson entered through the wooden door behind the bench. Her short dark hair was rolled in curls on top of her head, and she wore silver-rimmed glasses with her floor-length black robe.

  “Good morning, everyone,” the stoic woman greeted the room as she dropped down in her black leather chair. “Please be seated.”

  We sat down, and Susanna touched my arm lightly with her left hand. “I’m so scared,” she whispered in my ear.

  “It’s going to be fine,” I assured her, and patted her small hand.

  “Ms. Brownlee, if you’d like to get us started, please,” the judge looked at the court reporter over her silver-rimmed glasses and nodded.

 
“At this time,” the tall blonde woman announced. “The Court calls United States versus Susanna Louise Jenkins, case number 18-101. Parties, please state your appearance for the record.”

  Benji stood up from the prosecution table and shuffled to the wooden podium, then leaned over the mic, “Good morning, Your Honor. My name is Benjamin Price, lead counsel with the Special Counsel’s Office that represents the United States. With me, I also have Samantha Myers and Travis Metts of the Special Counsel’s Office, as well as the lead FBI investigator on this case, Special Agent Meryl Lee Dodson.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Price,” Judge Williamson nodded at him, then switched her dark gaze to me.

  I walked deliberately to the podium, took a deep breath, and then stated, “Good morning, Your Honor. Defendant Susanna Jenkins appears today in person and is represented by John Stone Law. With me today I also have legal consultant Seymour Gallant.”

  The judge turned her head to peer over her glasses at the defense table, then burst out with a beautiful, white smile. “Well, Skip Gallant,” she said with a chuckle. “I haven’t seen you in years.”

  “It has been quite a while, Your Honor,” Skip stood before he replied to the respected judge, then gave her a sly smile. “It’s good to see you lookin’ so well, Miss Augusta.”

  “Oh, Skip,” Judge Williamson was flustered and shooed his attentions away with a wave of her hand. “Behave yourself.”

  “As you wish, Your Honor,” he slipped her a quick wink as he sat back down. “But it is nice to see you, all the same.”

  “You as well, Mr. Gallant,” the judge resumed her composure then nodded at me. “Thank you, Mr. Stone.”

  I returned to the table, then leaned over and gave Skip a questioning stare. He just grinned at me, and I shook my head and smiled.

  That man was full of surprises.

  “Alright,” Judge Williamson began and placed her elbows on the bench in front of her. “We’re here this morning to hear preliminary evidence to support the charges brought upon Miss Jenkins. Now, before we even get started, Mr. Price, is there something you’d like to propose?”