by Carsen Taite
She was on her fourth file when the door to their office swung open. Camille stood framed in the doorway, her hands on her hips and a smile on her face. “Who’s hungry?”
West avoided the temptation to offer up a smart remark and looked at the time on her phone, surprised to see it was twelve thirty already. The afternoon docket started at two thirty, and Lloyd was only on his second file. “Is that a rhetorical question?”
“I’m starved,” Lloyd said.
“Let’s grab some lunch,” Camille said. “I’ve just discovered the cafeteria and performed reconnaissance. Word is the food is good and fast. We can talk about the memos you have done so far while we eat.”
Lloyd looked down at the files and back at Camille who shook her finger at him. “Come on. I’m not a big fan of skipping meals. Makes me grouchy. West?”
West closed the file in front of her. “Sure, I could eat.”
The Cafe on Six served simple food from short order burgers and fries to a few home-style specials that rotated throughout the week like chicken fried steak and meatloaf. West grabbed a bottle of Coke from the drink cooler and joined Camille and Lloyd at the counter.
“West Fallon, as I live and breathe!”
West cringed at the sound of her name, but then quickly plastered on what she hoped was a happy smile for the elderly man in an apron behind the counter. “Sam, good to see you. How have you been?”
“Can’t complain. My granddaughter just started college, and here you are all graduated from law school. Can you believe it?”
“Not even.” The first time West met Sam, she’d been a surly teenager. Hank had brought her to watch a trial, and at the lunch break, he’d taken her to the Cafe and told her she could order anything she wanted. Sam had made a show of telling her all about his special of the day, but she’d turned up her nose at everything and insisted on a grilled cheese sandwich. Every time she’d returned after that, he made her a grilled cheese without her even asking until it became a joke between them.
“I put your sandwich on the grill when I spotted you come in the door. What are your friends having?”
West avoided making eye contact with Camille, but she could sense her intense focus. Unable to put it off any longer, she looked directly into her eyes. “I’m betting the judge here would like a salad, but she might be convinced to have the special if you want to tell her all about it.” Her plan worked, and Camille was forced to refocus her attention on Sam as he rattled off details about the chicken fried chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans.
“Did you intern here during school?”
West turned to face Lloyd who was staring at her with a curious expression. “What?”
“I just wondered if you worked here before since this guy seems to know you so well.”
West started to answer, but Camille had finished ordering and had tuned in to their conversation. She settled on a flip reply. “Best grilled cheese in Dallas. Can you blame me for being a regular? What are you having?”
Lloyd squinted like he was trying to figure out her angle, but then he ordered a burger and dropped the questioning. Camille insisted on paying, and a few minutes later they were all settled at a table in the corner of the lunchroom. They were about halfway through their food, when Camille started asking questions. “West, Lloyd applied for this job because he has family here in Dallas. How about you?”
She chewed slower while she pondered an answer. Her first impulse was to ask if Camille was curious if she had family here in Dallas, but Camille was really trying to figure out her motivation for clerking. Personal obligation seemed too flip of an answer and too personal considering the circumstances. The bite of grilled cheese was long gone when she settled on a simple, “Just fulfilling a promise.”
Camille nodded like she understood, but her eyes reflected curiosity. Her questions would go unanswered, especially now that their roles were defined. Employer, employee. Judge, clerk. West couldn’t deny the simmer of attraction between them, but what had been a mild flirtation at their first couple of encounters would never have a chance to flourish. No personal conversation, no sharing of any kind beyond what was necessary to get through the work.
Too bad because Camille looked like she could use a fun time. From what West had read online, she’d been pilloried in the press for a poor, in retrospect, sentencing decision last year, and it had cost her the state bench she’d worked hard to win. She’d suffered a crushing loss in conservative Collin County, and it was actually pretty amazing she’d managed to get this appointment within a year of such a huge professional setback. West wanted to ask Camille about her roller coaster career ride, but feared doing so would leave her open to personal questions she had no desire to answer. Besides, what was the point? Nothing about their relationship had any chance of being anything other than professional, and it was best to keep their exchanges limited to conversations about case facts and the law.
She tuned back in to Lloyd using Camille’s reference to his family to tell her how important they were.
“Dad’s firm represented the CEO of Tasum Pharmaceuticals in their product liability case this past summer, you may have heard about the case. Judge Avery, I think your parents might have represented one of the parties. It was very complex litigation.”
West looked over at Camille, and she swore she rolled her eyes for just a second. She stifled a laugh and took another bite of her sandwich.
“It’s possible, Lloyd,” Camille said. “I don’t keep up with all of my parents’ clients, but they’re often involved in headline cases.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook. “So, tell me about this afternoon’s docket.”
Lloyd sucked in a breath. “I didn’t realize you were going to want to talk about the docket right now. I left my memos upstairs.”
Camille shot another look at West, and West caught the sparkle in her eyes. “I’m not looking for a treatise. Just give me a quick rundown.”
Lloyd scrambled until she couldn’t bear to witness his discomfort any longer and stepped in. “Nothing too hairy. Out of the seven cases, only two are substantive motion hearings, both motions to suppress, and the issues are well briefed. I imagine each side will probably call no more than a witness each. The rest of the cases are procedural matters, bond issues, change of plea, etc.”
Camille steepled her fingers. “I’ll take the procedural stuff first, so those folks don’t have to sit through the rest. West, do you mind ordering the docket for me? Simplest case first, etc. There’s one more case to add. The file’s on my desk. I’ll hear it last.”
“Sure. You’re going to be popular.”
“Not my goal, but I don’t mind doing what I can to make sure everyone has a good day.”
Smart, charming, and thoughtful. Damn, why did Camille have to be so likable? West shoved her now empty plate aside and stood. “Thanks. I’ll let the bailiff know the order. Lloyd, let’s head back up and order the cases.” She didn’t wait for him to answer before moving toward the door. Distance was the only way she was going to survive this gig.
* * *
Halfway through the docket, Camille wished she’d had the foresight to load up on caffeine. Several sets of lawyers arguing over procedural details like juror questionnaires and discovery requests made for a total snoozefest, made worse by their insistent and whiny voices in an oppressively quiet room unlike in state court where most hearings were conducted with the lawyers standing at the bench while the regular docket activity—negotiations, arguments, and routine scheduling—rolled on throughout the rest of the courtroom. Unable to bear the endless stream of one-upmanship, Camille finally asked counsel to step outside and work out an agreement or she would impose a compromise likely to make neither side happy.
The truth was she was eager to get to the last case, the one Stroud had angled to steal from her this morning. She’d skimmed through the entire file after he left this morning, fascinated with the issues. What she found even more interesting was th
at in the time between lunch and docket call, West had distilled a summary of the case worthy of someone with five times her experience.
Camille had heard of the case. Everyone in the Metroplex had. College co-ed goes missing. After a week of frantic searching, the worst scenario comes true when she’s found dead at a construction site two hours away. Cause of death: drug overdose. The local police, working with a federal task force, connected the girl to a known drug dealer in Dallas who had a reputation for selling to the local, affluent college crowd, and they determined he was the last person to see her alive. The indictment charged him with distributing drugs that resulted in her death, and Camille was interested in seeing exactly how the government planned to prove that at trial. Today’s hearing was a pretrial check-in that had been set by Stroud, presumably to see if there were looming issues before the final pretrial hearing set for a couple of weeks out.
Camille looked at the last attorneys in the courtroom and back at the names on the docket. She recognized the defense attorney. Sylvia Naylor hailed from a well-known firm in town that handled both state and federal cases, and she was accompanied by a young male associate from her firm. Seated next to them was a forty-something-year-old black male dressed in the orange jumpsuit that was standard pretrial attire for federal prisoners. The three young male AUSAs were strangers to her, an unusual role for them since AUSAs often became quite chummy with the judges whose courts they appeared in regularly. With a glance at West and Lloyd who were seated in the jury box, Camille called the case styled United States vs. Darryl Wilson.
“Counsel, I see we have a trial date set two weeks from today and a pretrial hearing the week before. Are you all on track to proceed as scheduled?”
One of the three AUSAs stood. “Your Honor, I’m Kyle Merrin and I’m appearing with co-counsel, Andrew Wallen and Noah Frankel.” He waved a hand at the two other attorneys seated at his table. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Niceties out of the way, he shuffled from one foot to the other before finally spitting out his question. “Are you planning on keeping this case?”
Camille admired his bluntness, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he had some ulterior motive for asking. “I believe I’ve been hired to handle all the cases that have been or will be assigned to this court. Is there any particular reason I shouldn’t start with this one?”
Merrin exchanged glances with his colleagues and then raised his shoulders slightly as if to say “oh well.” He pulled a sheaf of papers from the folder in front of him. “Absolutely not, Your Honor.” He held up the papers. “May I approach to submit some material to the court?”
Camille started to say yes, but had the distinct feeling she was being ambushed. She settled on an alternative. “I’d prefer if you just told me whatever it is you have to say. I don’t see any pending motions in the file, but if you have something you’d like me to review, you can give it to one of my clerks and they’ll be happy to provide me with a summary. West?”
West stood and walked over to Merrin and held out her hand. Camille watched, amused, as Merrin seemed to have difficulty releasing his precious documents to someone other than her. It was a hoop and she was making him jump through it for a reason. This guy would probably appear in her courtroom hundreds of times during their tenure here, and she needed to set the tone from the start. Respect for the bench, respect for opposing counsel, respect for the law. “I assume you also made a copy of whatever this is for Ms. Naylor?”
“I did.” Merrin took two steps to the side and set a stack of papers on the defense table. “We are in the process of compiling a motion, but because of the complexity of the issues, we wanted to go ahead and make the court aware of the nature of our request, and provide some initial research generated by our appellate division, represented here today by Mr. Frankel.” He gestured at the guy seated farthest from him. “We plan to have the motion filed by the end of the week, but since its disposition will affect several evidentiary matters, we didn’t want to surprise anyone with the substance.”
Camille looked over at the defense table where both attorneys had their heads down, poring over the stack of documents Merrin had presented, and then she looked at West who was doing the same. At that moment, West looked up and met her glance. For a second, it was like no one else was present and she was back at the first time they’d met, transfixed by this cocky, self-sure young woman who knew her way around the courthouse better than she did, but then West frowned slightly and shook her head. Taking the look as a caution about seeming too familiar with her clerk, Camille started to jerk her attention back to the attorneys before she realized West was sending her a message about what she’d read. “Let’s take five minutes. I’ll be right back.” She stepped down from the bench before the bailiff finished shouting “All rise,” and started back to her chambers, stopping only briefly to signal for West to join her.
Back in her office, she shrugged out of her robe while making a mental note to ask the bailiff if it was possible to adjust the temperature in the courtroom. She hung the robe on the hook by the door and walked toward her desk, spotting a tan interoffice mail envelope centered on her blotter. She sat down and unwound the string fastening the envelope and shook out the contents. One piece of white paper glided gently onto her desk, but the bold, black, block letters were glaring. QUIT NOW WHILE YOU CAN.
The deceptively simple phrase confused her, and she turned over the envelope searching for any clue about the identity of the sender. Nothing. These types of envelopes were usually filled with to/from entries until there was no space left and were retired, but this one was devoid of information. She would’ve expected Ester would go through her mail before she received it, but they hadn’t had a chance to go over procedures. For all she knew this message wasn’t even meant for her. Except it had been left in the center of her desk sometime in the last thirty minutes since she’d taken the bench.
She started to pick up the phone and call Ester but was interrupted by a rap on the partially open door. West, her eyes still scanning the documents, stood framed in the doorway with Lloyd towering behind her. Chiding herself for not specifically asking for just West, she set the envelope on top of the mysterious message, and invited them both in, determined not to raise alarms until she had more information.
“Any ideas what the government’s up to?” she asked.
West looked up from the papers in her hand. “Yes. They’re planning to try a rape case under the guise of a drug case.”
“What the hell?” Lloyd had the good sense to look sheepish. “Sorry, Judge.”
“It’s okay,” Camille said, although she couldn’t help but wonder what Stroud saw in this guy. “West, you mind explaining?”
West flipped to the middle of the stack of papers, walked over, and shoved them into her hand. For a second, Camille paused to enjoy the quick, light contact before pulling the papers closer. If Lloyd was out of the room, she was certain she’d try to prolong the touch. “What am I looking at?”
West’s hand appeared in her sightline, tracing a path along the words on the page until she settled on a paragraph in the middle of the page. “They’ve charged the defendant with distributing drugs that resulted in Silver’s death, but they want to establish that Wilson got close to Silver by introducing evidence he had sex with her, and they’re saying it was against her will by using testimony from other women who claimed he raped them. Here, read this.”
Camille stared at the words on the page, but they blurred in the face of her distraction. West hovered over her shoulder, making it difficult to focus on anything other than her solid, steady presence, especially in the face of the odd missive she’d just received. But West wasn’t here to give her peace of mind; she was here to offer advice. Summoning all her will, Camille forced her focus back to the page and scanned the paragraphs West had pointed out. As she read, her gut churned with the knowledge this case was about to morph into much more than a straightforward drug case. She flipped through the remaining pages,
thankful for a well-honed ability to quickly digest information. “If I read this correctly, the government wants a preliminary ruling on the admissibility of evidence?”
“Yes,” West said. “I guess their only redeeming grace is they didn’t try to surprise the defense with this evidence at trial. Although I suppose the defense had some notice. There’s a motion in the file from last spring about the admissibility of some videotapes, but it doesn’t go into the content, and the motion was never ruled on before…” She looked toward the ceiling like she was trying to recall a thought, and her face settled into a pained expression. “They were having the hearing the day that H—Judge Blair collapsed. Those videos might be some of the evidence the government’s talking about here.”
“What’s this evidence?” Lloyd asked.
Camille looked over at him, having almost forgotten he was still in the room. “Tell him.”
“In addition to the government having at least half a dozen women who will testify they believe they were raped by Mr. Wilson. They also have video of Wilson having sex with some of these women.”
“You’re kidding.”
“About which part?” West asked. “Basically, they want the jury to hear all of this because they think it’ll make it more likely they’ll believe he murdered her, you know, because he’s a big, black rapist.” She didn’t try to hide the sarcasm from her tone. “I’m willing to bet every one of these so-called witnesses is a rich, white college student.”
Camille had the exact same thought, but she was trying to keep an open mind. The defendant’s manner had seemed more gregarious than menacing, but it wouldn’t be the first time the government tried to play on jurors’ fears. While she wanted to echo West’s worry, she was walking a very fine line here, and it was crucial that she appear neutral, even when she wasn’t. She made a snap decision. “We’re going to go back out and set this for a hearing. I’ll want the defense response by the end of the week. In the meantime, I want a thorough memo from you on the applicable law. Plus, go ahead and pull anything you can find on the defendant’s history. Are charges pending related to any of these allegations or is this the first time they’ve come to light? Pull the pretrial officer’s report. Finally, what’s going on in the press? I’d be surprised if none of these allegations had seen the light of day.”
