Her Kind of Case

by Jeanne Winer

  Lee wrote the name on her yellow pad.

  “And how does that go?”

  “Not like he’d hoped. As he reaches for her waist, he slips on some water and falls, hitting his face on the edge of the table.”

  “Which accounts for the shiner,” Lee said, referring to his huge black eye. “I was going to ask you about that eventually.”

  Phil patted his face and sighed.

  “Well, it was kind of you to wait.”

  “Not at all. Speaking of injuries, though, can I ask about your arm?” She pointed to his left arm, which was encased in a bright purple cast. “Nice color, by the way.”

  “I almost chose red, but I’m glad I didn’t.”

  “So how did you break it?”

  “Well, let’s see, after hitting my head, Bob came out and then he and Judith escorted me to the front door and then pushed me through it. On my way down the stairs, I pulled the railing loose and then stumbled. I think that’s when I broke it. But it might have been while I was jumping up and down on the Land Rover.”

  “Ah. Well I’m guessing the Rover damage is a felony.”

  Phil barely nodded. He was staring out her window at the foothills, which looked brown and parched. In a month, if it snowed again, everything would be green and lush. Maybe it would rain in May, as it used to, and they’d have a proper spring. But probably it wouldn’t and the spring would last barely a month before the hot weather came.

  “So, will you represent me?” Phil asked, still looking out her window.

  “Of course.”

  “Do you think I’ll get disbarred?” For most lawyers charged with a crime, it was the crucial question.

  “Not if I can help it. But you might get suspended for a couple of months.”

  “That’s what I figured,” he said, turning back to face her. “As soon as I got out of jail yesterday, I went to my boss and told him what happened. We agreed that I would take a leave of absence. I can probably keep my job if I return by the beginning of August.”

  “That was very smart. I’ll try to make any bar suspension run concurrent with your self-imposed leave of absence. What will you do in the meantime?”

  “It depends.” He was studying her face. “I have a proposition.”

  “I’m not condoning this, you know.”

  “Why would you?”

  “You scared your wife.”

  “I know.” He rubbed his eye and winced. “I wish I hadn’t, but I think I wanted to make sure she never changed her mind again. Or something like that.”

  “The DA will want you in therapy.”

  “I’m already on it. I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Great. I love representing criminal defense attorneys.” She glanced at her notes, reread the part about the cell phone, and said, “Accidentally falls into the pot.”

  At that moment, someone knocked on the door.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” Phil asked.

  “Carla?” Lee called.

  “Are you busy?” Carla answered.

  Phil walked over to the door and opened it. When she saw him, Carla put a hand to her mouth.

  “Oh my God, Phil! Does the other guy look worse?”

  “Fortunately not,” Lee said.

  “You poor boy.” Carla reached out and touched Phil’s cheek. “Does it hurt?”

  Phil made a show of looking brave.

  “Only my heart.”

  “I heard about it this morning,” Carla admitted. “It’s all over the courthouse.” She turned to Lee. “Are you going to represent him?”

  “I am.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” She patted Phil’s cast.

  “Oh, I just remembered,” Phil said, looking embarrassed. “How much will you need as a retainer? I’ve been a public defender too long.”

  Lee considered the question.

  “Well, you won’t be working and the restitution will be considerable. Repairing just the Land Rover will cost thousands. How about I do it pro bono?”

  “Okay,” he said, sitting down again. “So I was hoping you might say that. Here’s my proposition: How about I work for you until I get my job back? For free, of course. You’d be doing me a huge favor. If I have to sit around with nothing to do, I’ll become a true alcoholic and kill myself. Or Bob.” He leaned forward, cradling his cast with his good arm. He was obviously still in pain. “When’s the pre-trial motions hearing on the Matthews case?”

  Lee flipped through the calendar on her desk and said, “April 17th.”

  “I’ll do all your legal research. I’ll do anything you want.” He gave her his best, most winsome smile. “What do you say, babe?”

  “Babe?”

  “Yeah, no, that was a mistake.”

  “You can start next Monday. Go home and take some Advil.”

  “Thanks, boss.” He stood up to go.

  Lee was staring at her calendar, which looked impossibly busy. There were hearings set almost every day until the end of the month.

  “Wait a minute,” she said, raising her hand. “Are you free on Friday night?”

  “Um, sure. You’re not asking me out on a date, are you?”

  Lee glanced at Carla, who nodded. After five weeks, they still hadn’t found a witness who’d seen Jeremy and Sam together. But they were determined.

  “Not with me,” Lee told him. “With Carla. Ten o’clock at the pavilion in Cheesman Park.”

  “Be there or be square,” Carla added.

  It was almost eight o’clock when Lee finally left the office. Phil and Carla ended up staying till seven discussing the Matthews case. Before leaving, Carla promised to copy her entire file and get it to Phil by Sunday. He had a lot of catching up to do.

  Outside, it was dark and cool, no hints of spring, but in Colorado there almost never were. The seasons changed overnight. When Lee reached the corner of Ninth and Canyon, she was aware that someone was following her. A figure in a raincoat wearing sunglasses and a red kerchief was darting in and out of the shadows, staying about a hundred yards behind her. When the traffic light changed, Lee remained where she was, trying not to laugh. A couple of minutes went by. Finally, the figure approached her. It was Peggy.

  “You look like a courier in a World War Two spy movie,” Lee told her.

  “Busted. Please don’t call the Nazis.” She surveyed the intersection. “Can we move to a darker place?”

  “What’s going on?”

  Peggy retied the knot on her kerchief and said, “A strange, seedy-looking policeman came to my house a few hours ago. He might have waited till I left and then followed me. I’m guessing it has to do with Jeremy’s case.”

  “Are you sure he was a policeman?”

  “Well, he acted like one.” She reached into her pocket, pulled out a card, and handed it to Lee. “He left this under my door. It says I have to call him immediately, but I didn’t.”

  Lee examined the card, which was from the Boulder District Attorney’s Office.

  “Okay, so it was Jason Tyler, a retired cop who now works for the DA. Did he have any paper in his hand?”

  “I think so. I saw him coming up the stairs and pretended I wasn’t home. He shouted my name and even jiggled the doorknob. I’m guessing he would have come inside if the door hadn’t been locked. I was really scared. Finally, he slid the card under my door and yelled he was leaving, as if he knew I was there. I could use some advice.”

  “Right.” Lee ran a hand through her hair. “Walk with me while I think. I’m heading up Ninth.”

  “Fine with me.”

  They crossed Canyon and began walking up Ninth toward Mapleton. Lee glanced over at Peggy.

  “It’s pretty dark out. Can you see well enough with those sunglasses?”

  “Not really.” She took them off. “I tripped and almost fell near your office.”

  “I saw that.”

  They walked for a couple of blocks while Lee considered her options. Finally, she was ready.

&n
bsp; “So here’s what I can say: In a criminal prosecution, a witness is not legally obligated to submit to an interview with anyone. Ethically, neither side can encourage or advise any witness not to cooperate with their opponent.” Lee shrugged and waited.

  “Okay,” Peggy said carefully. “I think I understand.”

  “Good.”

  “So all I want is some information. Is that all right?”

  “I don’t see why not. What do you want to know?”

  Peggy put a hand on Lee’s arm.

  “First of all, could we walk a little slower?” She was panting a little.

  “Sorry,” Lee said, slowing down. “I usually walk by myself.”

  “Okay, so I think the main issue at the next hearing is whether my nephew was emancipated. If he was, then the judge won’t suppress his confession.”

  “Correct.”

  “So is there anything I could say that would affect the issue one way or the other?”

  “Well,” Lee said, looking straight ahead, “you could testify that your nephew came to see you after his parents threw him out, and that you offered him money and a place to live. You could testify that Jeremy turned down your offer, choosing to live on his own. That would be some evidence, I suppose, that he was in fact emancipated.”

  “But he was too ashamed to stay with me! He wasn’t thinking straight. He was a mess.”

  “Well, that’s what I would argue.”

  Peggy was silent for a while, thinking.

  “Okay, thanks for answering my question. Do you think Mr. Tyler was going to subpoena me for the hearing?”

  “Probably. At the very least, he wants to talk to you.”

  Peggy took off her kerchief and stuffed it in her pocket.

  “Could they subpoena me if I were in, let’s say, Bismarck, North Dakota? My best friend from college lives there.”

  They’d reached the corner of Ninth and Maxwell. Lee’s house was just down the street.

  “They could,” Lee said, “but it wouldn’t be easy.” She made herself look serious. “I’m in no way suggesting, however, that you skip town to avoid a subpoena.”

  “I understand. It’s just that I’ve been planning to see my friend, and there never seems to be a good time. I’m thinking I might just go … tomorrow.”

  “I see. Well, nobody can make you stick around if you don’t want to.”

  “Right. Besides, Bismarck in April, how fabulous is that?” She grimaced a little.

  “You’re a good aunt,” Lee said, smiling.

  “Well, he was a great kid until his parents threw him out. I want to do whatever I can to help.”

  “Including paying for his therapy,” Lee reminded her. “Which is probably quite expensive.” After Jeremy’s suicide attempt, she’d asked if Peggy would be willing to hire a therapist who could visit him at the detention center. A week later, Peggy had arranged it.

  Peggy checked her watch.

  “Oops, it’s getting late. I have a lot to do if I’m leaving. Where is Bismarck anyway? Actually, where the hell is North Dakota?”

  “Right above South Dakota?”

  Peggy nodded and began heading back the way they’d come.

  “Good luck on the 17th,” she called.

  “Thank you.”

  Lee turned west in the direction of the foothills. When she reached her house, she stopped in front to admire it. Paul had wanted to paint it yellow, but she’d insisted on blue and white, which he thought would be boring. A good lawyer knows the limits of rational persuasion. “I just can’t see myself living in a yellow house,” she told him. “That’s your irrefutable argument?” he asked, incredulous. She said it was. A month later, her beloved home was painted blue and white.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When Lee was twenty-five and had been a public defender for all of twelve months, she was assigned her first felony, not because she was ready, but because no one in the office would take it. Everyone was drowning under the weight of too many cases.

  Ellen Lang, one of the office’s most experienced attorneys, had just been ordered to spend the rest of her pregnancy in bed or risk losing her child. Suddenly, a caseload of ninety active felonies had to be divided among six lawyers who could barely handle what they already had. So Lee, the virgin newbie, was being tossed into the fire. If she emerged unscathed, it meant they had been right to hire her.

  When she’d shown up for work, Lee’s supervisor had ordered her to accompany Ellen, who was leaving for court in five minutes. This would be Ellen’s last hearing and her last interaction with the client. From what Lee could gather, the hearing was to suppress a critical search. If Ellen lost the motion, which was likely, then Lee would take over the case and try it.

  “Why won’t any of the others take it?” Lee asked, grabbing her briefcase and buttoning her coat. It was snowing hard outside.

  Her supervisor tossed his paper cup into a wastebasket across the room.

  “The case is a piece of shit and the client won’t deal. You’re going to lose the trial and then he’s going to grieve you.”

  “My first felony,” Lee groaned. “And my first grievance.”

  “Welcome to the practice of law.” Her supervisor patted her on the shoulder and then escorted her to the door. “The guy’s name is Felix Garcia. He thinks all white lawyers are prejudiced. Good luck.”

  On the way to the courthouse, Lee hurried behind Ellen, who was carrying a huge heavy box overflowing with paper. As they approached the courthouse, Ellen grunted a few times and held her stomach. Lee watched in silence, terrified she might have to take over even sooner than expected.

  “I’m okay,” Ellen reassured her, chuckling. “When we get inside, just follow my lead. You’ll be fine.” Ellen pushed back a lock of curly brown hair that fell across her face. She was maybe four years older than Lee but was clearly an adult, whereas Lee was still in the wings, practicing.

  After passing through security, they took the elevator to the second floor. Until then, Lee had never been in district court. The room was almost twice as large as the county courtrooms downstairs and much quieter. The stakes were obviously higher here. In county court, which heard the misdemeanors and petty offenses, first-time offenders were looking at a fine and a lecture or maybe probation; only persistent offenders, usually those with drug and alcohol problems or the mentally ill, actually got sent to the local jail. In District Court, where the felonies were handled, defendants had already been warned and slapped, and clearly that hadn’t worked. Now, they were looking at years in the penitentiary, maybe for the rest of their lives. Rehabilitation was still a possibility, but punishment was the overriding objective. In county court, it was nice to have a competent attorney, but in district court it was crucial.

  When Lee and Ellen first entered the courtroom, it was empty. Lee’s heart was racing as she followed Ellen to one of the two large wooden tables facing the judge’s dais. Lee set the box down and waited while Ellen pulled out various stacks of paper and arranged them in the order she expected to use them. The amount of legal research was impressive. Lee had no idea how much time the defendant was facing, but guessed it was a lot.

  “What exactly is our client charged with?” Lee asked.

  Ellen surveyed the table, moving two piles of paper forward and one pile back.

  “I think that’s good,” she murmured, and then turned to Lee. “Okay, let’s see.” She thumbed through a thick folder. “Right. At this point, it’s down to three counts first-degree burglary, three counts second-degree burglary, three counts first-degree criminal trespass, two counts theft by receiving, two counts possession of a weapon by a previous offender, one count false information to a pawn broker, one count criminal impersonation, plus two counts of being an habitual offender. Yeah, so that’s it.”

  Lee nodded, trying to stay calm.

  “What’s an habitual offender?”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Lee felt her face grow hot.

/>   “Is it some kind of sentence enhancer?”

  “Um, yeah.” Ellen shook her head. “I can’t believe they gave you the case.” She was about to say more but then stopped. “Okay, so we’ll just have to make the best of it. I have a ton of research in my office, which should be helpful, although it’s complicated. But you can call me.”

  “Thanks,” Lee said, wishing she could disappear through a hole in the floor.

  Just then, two guards escorting a middle-aged, handcuffed Hispanic man entered through a side door. The defendant was short and husky with muscular arms covered in black and green tattoos. He looked around, spotted Ellen, and nodded. As he approached the table, Lee could see that his face was pitted with acne scars.

  Ellen smiled at her client as the guards removed his handcuffs.

  “Felix, this is Lee Isaacs. She’ll be taking over your case after the hearing. I’m sorry but I have to take a sabbatical. Doctor’s orders.” She patted her protruding stomach.

  Felix stared at Lee and then snorted.

  “Are you shitting me? She looks fifteen.”

  Ellen put her hand on Felix’s arm and said, “She’s older than she looks and very well qualified. Give her a chance.”

  “But I want you to be my lawyer.”

  “Sorry, Felix. I would if I could. Give her a chance. I think you’ll like her.” Suddenly, she grunted and clutched her stomach. Sweat broke out on her forehead.

  Both Lee and Felix watched anxiously until she started to relax.

  “Okay, false alarm. I think I’ll hit the ladies’ room before the hearing starts. Give you a chance to get acquainted.”

  After Ellen left, Felix looked glum.

  “When does her sabbatical start?”

  “At the end of today,” Lee said, attempting to sound casual.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered. “And you’re really going to be my lawyer?”

  “I am, yes.”

  “Man oh man, am I fucked.” Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. “How many bitch cases have you handled?”

  Lee guessed he was talking about the habitual offender counts, but wasn’t sure. In any event, she knew better than to admit the truth.