“Right.”
Sabin took over. “Let’s go back to the phone call. You’re absolutely sure it was Judge Palmer?”
“Yes.”
“It might have been someone who sounded like him, someone Mallow put up to calling. Did you think of that?”
“I know Palmer’s voice.”
“You were his clerk, correct, in the court of appeals?”
“No. I wasn’t assigned to him. But he did get me the job.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I think I impressed him. I was his student. He taught criminal law. Why I impressed him, I don’t know. Anyway, I was grateful for what he did for me.”
Sabin nodded. “You taught that course yourself as I understand?”
“I did. Judge Palmer got pneumonia. I taught the course for him.”
“For a few weeks?”
“For the entire year he was off. At the time, he was very ill.”
“Did you socialize with him?” Sabin asked.
“I was invited for dinner a few times. I saw him at law school functions. Other than that, no.”
“Have you ever argued any cases, besides McHugh, before panels upon which he served?”
“A number of times.”
“Win?” The word was spoken with an almost whispered suggestion, a nasty suggestion.
“I won a few. I lost a few. They were mostly criminal appeals. I was doing a lot of criminal work.”
“That was before you were disbarred?” the cop asked, but it was more like an accusation.
“I was never disbarred,” I said. “I was suspended from practice for a year. My license was never taken away.”
“But disbarment proceedings were brought, were they not?” Sabin asked.
“Yes.”
Sabin’s smile was icy. “Would it be fair to say, Charley, that you escaped disbarment by the skin of your teeth?”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“But you had friends who went to bat for you,” Sabin said.
“Yes. The root cause of my problems was alcohol, frankly. People who knew me knew that. The year suspension was to give me time to get a handle on my problem.”
“One of the people who spoke for you was Judge Palmer,” Sabin said.
“That’s right.”
“So did I,” Judge Bishop interjected. “A number of judges did. For all his difficulty, Charley was known as a good lawyer.”
“You went into a rehabilitation program.”
“A drunk tank. Yes. I’ve been in Alcoholics Anonymous since.”
“No drinking, not even one?” Sabin smiled.
“No.” There had been one time, but it hadn’t been voluntary, and I didn’t count it as a slip, the term AA people use when we fall off the wagon.
“You were in serious financial difficulty when you were suspended,” Sabin said.
“I had managed to drink away every penny I had.”
“Did you go bankrupt?”
“No. I paid my debts. It took a while, but I did it.”
“What did you do for that suspension year?”
“I sold shoes for a while, at a store in a mall. Then I sold real estate.”
“Make money?”
“I barely survived, frankly.”
“And now you’re back on your feet.”
“I’m getting there. Or I like to think I am. I support a daughter at college and run a one-man office. Sometimes it’s a squeak, but I manage to get by.”
“So, money is very important to you,” Sabin asked, not smiling.
“Sure is. Isn’t it for you, Harry? Or has the attorney general gotten open-handed with you people?”
Harry laughed, but didn’t answer.
“Mallow said he and Palmer needed money,” the cop said. “Did you believe him?”
“No reason not to,” I replied. “I told you what he said.”
“When it became apparent a bribe was being solicited, Charley, why didn’t you contact the police yourself?”
I hesitated for a moment. “It’s complicated. My primary duty is to my client. It’s up to me to do everything possible, and legal, to win for him. To be candid, I didn’t know exactly what to do.”
“So you thought about paying the bribe,” said Hagan.
“Maybe, not for long, though.”
“Why?” Captain Hagan’s eyes seemed even colder.
“The obvious answer is that to do so is a felony. But it goes beyond that. Maybe it’s the way I was raised, or maybe it’s how I think, but it’s something I can’t do. It may not be on the same level as being a child molester, but in my mind it comes close. Any judge or lawyer who does it is rotten. I think that way now, and I’ve always thought that way.
“Look, I’ve done favors and I’ve had favors done for me in courts and cases, but never for money. Corruption is like a disease. If you touch it, you got it. And, eventually, you’ll the of it.”
Sabin forced his mouth to do something that approximated a smile. “A pretty speech, Charley. But this isn’t a courtroom, is it? And there’s no jury present. So why did you contact Judge Bishop instead of us?”
“Frankly, I was trying to figure a way out so there would be no bribe and yet the case would not be lost.”
“What did you think Judge Bishop might be able to do?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping he might be able to do something.”
The smile had vanished entirely from Sabin’s face. “Like what? Call Palmer and tell him to back off, to pay the case?”
“I had no definite idea. I thought the judge might find a way to help.”
Judge Bishop’s face was a mask.
“And suppose he didn’t call us in?” Sabin asked. “Would you have?”
“You want an honest answer?”
“That’s what we’re here for.”
“I don’t know what I would have done, finally. Mallow said if I didn’t go through with the deal as they proposed, they would say I offered a bribe, to defend against anything I might say.”
“I presume then you contemplated contacting us, given those circumstances?”
“If there was no other way, yes.”
Captain Hagan stirred. “But you didn’t do it, did you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“How is this fifty thousand to be paid?” Sabin asked.
“I presume in cash. Mallow didn’t spell out the details.”
“Well, although you didn’t contact us yourself, Charley, we’re talking now, so that counts for something.” Sabin’s smile flickered off and on, this time it seemed a trifle more friendly.
“We’ll go on from here. You set up the details with Mallow. We’ll supply the money, marked of course. And at this next meeting you will wear a wire. I imagine they trust you now. Mallow won’t suspect a thing. Maybe you can work it so Palmer is there.”
“I’m not going to wear a wire.”
Sabin’s eyebrow raised slightly. “Oh? Why not?”
“For one thing, I’m not a cop. I’ve told you everything I know. I’ve reported what happened. You people can take it from here.”
“You’re in it pretty deep, Charley.”
“No, I’m not. I’ve refused their offer. I’m not a coconspirator. I’m not in this at all.”
“Without your cooperation, Charley, we don’t have a chance of making a case. You’re a lawyer, you know that.”
“If that’s the way it is, that’s the way it is.”
“We might consider this obstruction of justice, Charley. Have you thought of that?”
Judge Bishop shifted in his chair and studied me for a moment before speaking. “Why won’t you wear a wire, Charley?”
“Look, Judge Palmer has done a number of things for me in my life. He’s in a mess and I feel sorry for him. I’m not a Judas. They made a mistake when they approached me. Palmer should have known better. But I’m not about to give him the Judas kiss. It’s like giving a bribe, it’s corrupt, it’s some
thing criminals do when they want to make a deal. I won’t wear a wire. I find it abhorrent, and I will not do it.”
Sabin and Hagan exchanged glances, and then Sabin spoke. “I would urge you to rethink this, Charley. You’re in considerable danger if you don’t.”
“From you people?”
“It’s a possibility, isn’t it? But Palmer and Mallow are the ones who can hang you, and, without our helping you, they probably will.”
“It’s a risk I’ll have to take.”
Sabin pursed his lips. “You know we can’t just walk away from this, don’t you, Charley? We have to act on the information you’ve just given us. That means we have to talk to Palmer and to Mallow.”
A chill ran through me. I knew what was coming.
“What do you suppose Mallow will say? It’s just your word against his. He is the former chief judge of that court, isn’t he? He’ll say you proposed a bribe. He’ll say he didn’t report it because he felt sorry for you, a drunk, or former drunk. That’s what he’ll say, Charley, and you know it.”
There was a wistful look in Sabin’s eyes. “And Palmer. He’ll say he never heard anything. Nothing from you. Nothing from Mallow. He’ll point out that he helped you through a crisis once. He’ll be properly hurt that you would make such an accusation. Am I right?”
I said nothing. He was right.
“And then we’ll have to come after you, Charley.”
“Oh yeah? I told you what I know. Why the hell would I even bring something like this up? What would I possibly have to gain?”
The big cop stirred again. “You saw that secret memo that said you were going to lose the case,” he said.
“The one Mallow showed me and then destroyed.”
“We only have your word on that,” Hagan said. “You used to clerk at that court. It’s not impossible that you could have gotten a copy on your own. And this might be an elaborate setup to either force the court to go your way, or to get a new hearing.”
“That’s insane,” I said.
“You do have a reputation, Charley, for being a little devious now and then,” Sabin said. “Maybe this is one of those now and thens.”
“It isn’t.”
“Then wear the wire,” the cop snapped.
“No.”
Judge Bishop held up a hand and spoke in that soft voice of his. “They have a point, Charley. The case can’t be made without your cooperation. You’ve asked my advice, and this is it. Wear the wire. If Mallow and Palmer did what you say, they don’t deserve any consideration.”
“I’m sorry, Judge. I can’t. And I won’t.”
Sabin sighed. “Well, this puts a whole different light on it, doesn’t it? Charley, let me give you your rights now. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to be represented by an attorney, if—”
“Are you arresting me?” I asked Sabin.
He shook his head. “Not now.”
“Not yet,” Captain Hagan snapped. “I presume you have no pressing travel plans?”
“I’m going to Broken Axe next Tuesday or Wednesday. I represent a defendant there and examination is set for Thursday. I should be back Friday, at my office, if that answers your question.”
“Doctor Death,” Sabin said. “We know all about that.”
“It’s been page-one news. If you read, you should.” This time it was I who was doing the snapping.
“Charley,” Judge Bishop said. “Reconsider what these gentlemen ask. Otherwise . . .”
The word hung there like an unspoken jail sentence.
“I’m sorry, Judge, I can’t.”
I stood up. “I’m an officer of the court. I’ve received a solicitation for a bribe and I have reported it. Unless that’s a new crime and you plan to arrest me, I’m leaving.”
“That’s a stupid attitude, Charley,” Sabin said, “and you’re not a stupid man. Work with us. At this point we’re the only friends you have.”
“You’re dead meat, Sloan,” Captain Hagan said, his smile genuine for what seemed like the first time. It was the kind of smile an executioner gives his intended victim. “You won’t wear a wire because none of this happened. Whatever little scheme you cooked up has backfired.”
“Like they say in court, prove it.”
I left them there, went up the narrow stairs, and let myself out.
The tree-lined street was as peaceful as when I had gone in.
But I wasn’t.
23
I didn’t take the expressway back. Instead, I drove slowly along the shore of Lake St. Clair, passing the lit tle towns that hugged the rim of the big, shallow lake. I didn’t play a tape or listen to the radio. I wanted to think. But I found I couldn’t, not really, with the scene in The Bishop’s basement playing itself over and over again in my mind.
I knew they wouldn’t be able to understand my decision. For twenty years I had defended people who stood accused by sleazy “friends,” friends who were usually worse criminals than my clients but who were in the position to make a deal, “friends” who were anxious to wear a nifty little recording device so they could escape punishment themselves.
Informer. For me, it was a chilling word, a word that spelled evil.
I had committed no crime. I had done nothing except try to save my client’s case in an honorable way. I couldn’t bring myself to be Judge Palmer’s “friend,” to stand close enough so his voice could be picked up by what was strapped under my shirt, all the time looking into his eyes, knowing that the man who had helped me so often would be destroyed by what I was doing.
But what Sabin had said was true enough. My word against theirs was not good enough.
Obstruction of justice was a possible charge against me. Filing a false felony report was another. Conviction on either charge would result in instant and permanent disbarment.
The saloons along the way seemed to beckon. A few stiff bourbons would help ease my anxiety. I could drift off into another world, a happier place.
No cops.
No Palmers.
No future.
I put the pedal to the floor and tried not to think of using that as a way out.
By the time I got back to my office it was midafternoon, a Saturday. I sat and watched the river. The day was overcast but otherwise pleasant, and an army of small pleasure boats boiled the waters, ignoring the occasional passage of a huge ship. It looked like everyone was having a good time. Fishermen trolled, water-skiers bobbed behind speeding tow boats, and big-time yachts moved majestically along, most of them with people partying and enjoying the trip, drinking and taking in the view.
I envied them, they looked so carefree.
I watched in the way a prisoner might watch traffic passing below his cell. They were free, I was not.
The Bishop was right. Mallow and Palmer were crooks now, and what they might have been before was for feited. He said they deserved no consideration. They had crossed the line. I wondered at my own decision. I couldn’t blame anyone else for the trouble I was in. I had brought it on myself, yet honor demanded that I act the way I did.
Honor. It was a word, a sound, a symbol. I turned from the river and picked up my dictionary.
Honor: it ran down most of a page and had many meanings. It meant high rank or position of distinction, a title given to officials, such as judges. Like the Honorable Jeffrey Mallow, or His Honor, Franklin Palmer. In that use it implied respect.
Honor also meant a keen sense of right and wrong; adherence to action or principles considered right; integrity.
Well, my license was in jeopardy, but my honor was intact.
I thought of all the people in the past who were famous for their integrity. Saints, mostly, either butchered, burned, or buried alive.
It was not a consoling thought.
A trial lawyer tries to conjure up what might come up, how the opposition will proceed, what is likely to happen.
I thought now of how Harry Sabin would probably handle the situation. He
would wait until Monday morning to call Mallow. He would ask for an appointment. He and the state police captain would go to Mallow’s office. Harry was devious, he wouldn’t just blurt out what I had told him. He would work around to it gently, hoping to surprise Mallow with the accusation.
But Mallow would be ready for them. He was no fool. There would be only one reason that the head of the attorney general’s criminal division would want to see him.
Sabin was right. Mallow would say I tried to enlist him in a scheme to bribe the court. He would be generous, saying he knew of my personal problems. He would say that he had merely rebuffed me. He would say how sad he was that I had sunk to such a personal low.
I could almost write the script.
That would probably happen Monday afternoon. By that time, Mallow would have checked with Palmer, and the stories would be solid and in place.
Harry Sabin would approach Palmer the way any working attorney approached a sitting judge, like an explosive that might easily go off. Harry Sabin knew that in the future he would be arguing attorney general cases before Palmer. It would be almost a formality.
I figured that meeting might be Tuesday afternoon.
Both interviews would be taped. Harry was that kind of lawyer.
He would prepare a written report for the attorney general and request a conference. An accusation about court corruption was a serious matter, one that wouldn’t be put off for long.
My guess was that Harry and the cop would meet with their boss on Wednesday up in Lansing. The attorney general was an elected politician and would take no action before he had looked at everything from every possible angle.
He would call the chief justice of the state supreme court and the chief justice of the court of appeals and ask for a conference. That was his usual way of operating. Depending on their schedules, that might happen on Thursday, the day when I would be defending Miles Stewart at his examination in Broken Axe.
They would agree that my charge was unsubstantiated. Then they would decide to have the matter investigated by a panel. A panel that would find Palmer blameless. A panel that would recommend my disbarment.
They would do all this to avoid scandal and unfortunate publicity. The court’s integrity had been questioned. It would be found intact, and the accuser punished. Especially an accuser who had been punished once before, one who had had his license suspended.
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